Prodigy

ache. Our crash landing must have given me head-to-toe bruises.
    We pause underneath one of the wrecked wings just as the first soldiers rush to the jet. Half of them form a makeshift barrier to keep civilians out, their backs turned to us. Other soldiers shine lights across the smoke and twisted metal, scanning for survivors. One of them must’ve spotted Kaede because he shouts something at the others and motions them over. “It’s a Colonies
jet,
” he shouts, sounding incredulous. “A jet made it past the Armor and right into Denver.” We’re temporarily hidden from view under this wing, but they’ll see us any second now. The makeshift soldier barricade separates us from the crowds.
    All around us and throughout the city are the sounds of breaking glass, roaring fires, screaming, chanting people—only those closest to our jet’s wreckage seem to realize that a Colonies jet crashed at all. I glance at where the Capitol Tower looms. Anden’s voice is ringing from every city block and from every speaker—a live feed of his image must be broadcasting to every JumboTron in the city . . . and in the nation. I look on as several furious rioters fling Molotov cocktails at the soldiers. The people have no idea that Congress is sitting back, waiting for their anger to spill enough to put Razor in Anden’s place. There’s no way Anden will be able to calm this crowd. I imagine the same protests sparking up across the country, in every street and city. If the Patriots had succeeded in publicly broadcasting the Elector’s death from the Capitol Tower’s speakers, there would already have been a revolution.
    “Now,” Day says.
    We rush out from under the wing, taking the soldier barricade completely off guard. Before any of them can grab or shoot at us, we’re through, ducking into the crowd and melting in with the people. Instantly Day lowers his head and pulls us through the thick pockets of arms and legs. His hand is clenched fiercely around mine. My breath comes out ragged and forced, but I refuse to slow us down now. I push on. People shout in surprise as we barrel through.
    Behind us, the soldiers raise the alarm. “There!” one yells. A few shots ring out. They’re after us.
    We barrel ahead through the crowd. Now and then I hear people exclaim,
“Is that Day?” “Did Day come back in a Colonies jet?”
When I glance behind us, I can tell that half the soldiers are heading the wrong way, unable to tell which direction we took. A couple of others are still hot on our trail. We’re only a block away from the Capitol Tower now, but to me it seems like miles. Occasionally, I get a glimpse of it through all the bodies pushing and shoving around. The JumboTrons show Anden standing on a balcony, a tiny, lone figure dressed in black and red, holding his hands out in a gesture of appeal.
    He needs Day’s help.
    Behind us, four soldiers are gradually catching up. The chase saps away the last of my strength. I’m panting, struggling to breathe. Day is already slowing down to keep pace with me, but I can tell we’ll never make it at this rate. I squeeze his hand and shake my head.
    “You have to go ahead,” I tell Day firmly.
    “You’re cracked.” He purses his lips and pulls us forward faster. “We’re almost there.”
    “No.”
I lean closer to him as we continue to make our way through the people. “This is our one shot. Neither of us will make it if I keep slowing us down.”
    Day hesitates, torn. We’ve already been separated once before—now he’s wondering if letting me go means he’ll never see me again. But we don’t have time for him to dwell on this. “I can’t run fast, but I can hide in the crowd. Trust me.”
    Without warning, he grabs my waist, pulls me into a tight embrace, and kisses me hard on the lips. They’re burning hot. I kiss him back fiercely and run my hands along his back. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he breathes. “Hide, stay safe. See you soon.” Then he squeezes my hand and vanishes. I suck in a breath of icy cold air.
Move it, June. No time to waste.
    I stop where I am, turn around, and crouch down right as the soldiers reach me. The first one doesn’t even see me coming. One second he’s running—the next I’ve tripped him and he’s flat on his back. I don’t dare stop to look—instead, I stagger back into the furious crowd, weaving my way through people with my head down until the soldiers have fallen far behind. I can’t believe