Prodigy

instant I step into the living room, I know something’s off. Mom lies asleep on the couch with Eden in her arms, the blanket pulled up to her shoulders. But Dad isn’t here. My eyes dart around the room. He just got back from the warfront last night, and he usually stays home for at least three or four days. It’s too soon for him to be gone.
    “Dad?” I whisper. Mom stirs a little and I fall silent again.
    Then I hear the faint sound of our screen door against wood. My eyes widen. I hurry over to the door and poke my head outside. A rush of cool air greets me. “Dad?” I whisper again.
    At first, no one’s there. Then I see his shape emerge from the shadows.
Dad.
    I start running—I don’t care if the dirt and pavement scratch me through the threadbare fabric of my socks. The figure in the shadows walks a few more steps, then hears me and turns around. Now I see my father’s light brown hair and narrow, honey-colored eyes, that faint scruff on his chin, his tall frame, his effortlessly graceful stance. Mom always said he looked like he stepped right out of some old Mongolian fable. I break into a sprint.
    “Dad,” I blurt out when I reach him in the shadows. He kneels down and scoops me into his arms. “You’re leaving already?”
    “I’m sorry, Daniel,” he whispers. He sounds tired. “I’ve been called back to the warfront.”
    My eyes well up with tears. “Already?”
    “You need to get back in the house right now. Don’t let the street police see you causing a scene.”
    “But you just got here,” I try to argue. “You—it’s my birthday today, and I—”
    My father puts a hand on each of my shoulders. His eyes are two warnings, full of everything he wishes he could say out loud.
I want to stay,
he’s trying to tell me.
But I have to go. You know the drill. Don’t talk about this.
Instead, he says, “Go back home, Daniel. Kiss your mother for me.”
    My voice starts to shake, but I tell myself to be brave. “When will we see you again?”
    “I’ll come back soon. I love you.” He puts a hand on my head. “Keep an eye out for when I come back, all right?”
    I nod. He lingers with me for a moment, then gets up and walks away. I go home.
    That was the last time I ever saw him.
    * * *
    A day’s passed. I’m sitting alone on my assigned Patriot bed in one of the bunk rooms, studying the pendant looped around my neck. My hair falls around my face, making me feel like I’m looking at the pendant through a bright veil. Before my shower earlier, Kaede had given me a bottle of gel that stripped the fake color from my hair.
For the next part of the plan,
she’d told me.
    Someone knocks on the door.
    “Day?” The voice sounds muffled from the other side of the wood. It takes me a second to reorient myself and recognize Tess. I’d woken up from a nightmare about my eighth birthday. I can still see everything like it happened yesterday, and my eyes feel red and swollen from crying. When I woke up, my mind started producing images of Eden strapped to a gurney, screaming as lab techs inject him with chemicals, and John standing blindfolded before a squad of soldiers. And Mom. I can’t stop all this goddy stuff from replaying in my head, and it pisses me off so much. If I find Eden, what then? How the hell do I take him from the Republic? I have to assume that Razor will be able to help me get him back. And in order to get him back, I’ve absolutely
got
to make sure Anden dies.
    My arms are sore from spending most of the morning under Kaede’s and Pascao’s supervision, learning how to shoot a gun. “Don’t worry if you miss the Elector,” Pascao said as we worked on my aim. He ran his hands along my arm enough to make me blush. “Won’t matter. There will be others with you who will finish the job, regardless. Razor just wants the
image
of you pointing a gun at the Elector. Isn’t it perfect? The Elector, at the warfront to give morale-boosting speeches to the soldiers, gunned down with hundreds of troops in the vicinity. Oh, the irony!” Pascao then gave me one of his signature grins. “The people’s hero kills the tyrant. What a story that will be.”
    Yeah—what a story, indeed.
    “Day?” Tess says from behind the door. “Are you in there? Razor wants to talk to you.” Oh, right. She’s still out there, calling for me.
    “Yeah, you can come in,” I reply.
    Tess pokes her head inside. “Hey,” she says. “How long have you been in here?”
    Be good to