Prodigy

When he gets close to her, June tenses up. I can feel the blood draining from my face. All the chatter and bustle around me fades into the distance. The Elector puts a hand under June’s chin and brings her face toward his own. He is taking something that I thought was just for me, and I feel a sudden, shattering sense of loss. I want to rip my eyes away, but even from the corner of my vision, I can still see him kissing her. It seems to last forever.
    I watch numbly as they finally pull away from each other and the Elector steps out of the room, leaving June alone, curled up on the bed. What’s going through her mind right now? I can’t watch any longer. I’m about to turn my back, ready to follow Pascao out of the crowd and away from this scene.
    But then something catches my eye. I look up at the monitor. And just in time, I see June hold up two fingers to her brow in our signal.
    * * *
    It’s past midnight when Pascao, me, and three other Runners paint wide black stripes across our eyes and suit ourselves up in dark warfront uniforms and military caps. Then we head out of the Patriots’ underground hideout for the first time since I arrived. A couple of soldiers wander by now and then, but we see more clusters of troops as we head farther out of our neighborhood and cross the train tracks. The sky’s still completely covered with clouds, and under the dim streetlights, I can see thin sheets of sleet falling. The pavement’s slick with drizzle and icy slush, and the air smells stale, like a mix of smoke and mold. I pull my stiff collar higher, swallow one of Tess’s blue pills, and actually wish I was back with her in Los Angeles’s humid slums. I tap the dust bomb hidden inside my jacket, double-checking that it’s dry. In the back of my mind, the scene between June and the Elector plays on repeat.
    June’s signal was for me. Which part of the plan does she want me to stop? Does she want me to forfeit the Patriots’ mission and escape? If I defect now, what will happen to her? The signal could’ve meant a million things. It could even mean she’s decided to stay with the Republic. I shake the thought furiously from my mind. No, she wouldn’t do that.
Not even if the Elector himself wanted her?
Would that make her stay?
    I also remember that the video footage of them didn’t have sound on it. Every other video we’ve seen has had crisp sound—Razor even insisted on making sure the volume was turned up. Had the Patriots stripped it from this one? Are they hiding something?
    Pascao stops us in the shadows of an alley not far from the train station. “Train arrives in fifteen minutes,” he says, his breath rising in clouds. “Baxter, Iris, you two come with me.” The girl named Iris—long and lean, with deep-set eyes that constantly dart around—smiles, but Baxter glowers and tightens his jaw. I ignore him and try not to think about whatever he’s trying to put in Tess’s mind about me. Pascao points to the third Runner, a petite girl with copper-colored braids who keeps sneaking glances at me. “Jordan, you’re going to pinpoint the right railcar for us.” She gives Pascao a thumbs-up.
    Pascao’s eyes shift to me. “Day,” he whispers. “You know your drill.”
    I tug the edge of my cap. “Got it, cousin.” Whatever June means, this is no time for me to leave the Patriots behind. Tess is still back there in the bunker, and I have no idea where Eden is. No way I’m going to put both of them in jeopardy.
    “Keep those soldiers busy, yeah? Make them hate you.”
    “That’s my specialty.” I gesture up at the slanted roofs and crumbling walls towering around us. To a Runner, those roofs are like giant slides made smooth by ice. I say a silent thanks to Tess—already the blue pill is warming me up from the inside out, as soothing as a bowl of hot soup on an icy evening.
    Pascao gives me a wide grin. “Well then. Let’s show them a good time.”
    I watch the others hurry away along the railroad tracks through the veil of sleet. Then I step farther into the shadows and study the buildings. Each one is old and pockmarked with footholds—and to make things even more fun, they all have rusted metal beams crisscrossing their walls. Some have top floors that are completely blown off and open to the night sky. Others have slanted, tiled roofs. In spite of everything, I can’t help feeling a twinge of anticipation. These buildings are a Runner’s paradise.
    I turn back down the