Prodigy

sacrificed, surely we deserve a life—or
something
—together after this is all over? Escaping to the Colonies, or rebuilding the Republic? Anden wants Day’s help; we can all work together. How could I bear to turn away from that light at the end of the tunnel?
I need to get back to him. I need to tell Day everything.
    First things first. I try to formulate the best way to warn Anden now that we’re finally alone. There’s not much I can safely say. Tell him too much and he might do something that tips off the Patriots. Still, I decide to try my best. At the very least, I need him to trust me without question. I need him behind me when I sabotage the Patriots’ detour.
    “Do you believe in me?” This time I do brush his hand with my own.
    Anden stiffens, but doesn’t pull away. His eyes search my face, perhaps wondering what had gone through my mind when I closed my eyes. “Perhaps I should ask you the same question,” he replies, a hesitant smile on his lips.
    Both of us are speaking on two levels, referring to secrets shared. I nod at him, hoping he’ll take my words seriously. “Then do what I say when we get to Pierra. Promise? Everything I say.”
    He tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, then shrugs and nods yes. He seems to understand that I’m trying to tell him something without saying it aloud. When the time comes for the Patriots to act, I hope Anden remembers his promise.

ME, PASCAO, AND THE OTHER RUNNERS SPEND A full half day aboveground after the train job, huddled in alleys or on top of abandoned roofs, dodging the soldiers that comb the streets near the station. Not until the sun begins to set do we finally get a chance to return, one by one, to the Patriots’ underground quarters. Neither Pascao nor I bring up what happened by the train. Jordan, the shy Runner with the copper braids, asks me twice if I’m okay. I just shrug her off.
    Yeah, something’s wrong. Isn’t
that
the understatement of the year.
    By the time we make our way back, everyone is getting ready to leave for Pierra—some are destroying documents, while others are wiping the comps clean of data. Pascao’s voice is a welcome distraction.
    “Well done, Day,” he says. He’s sitting at a table against the shelter’s back wall. He opens the side of his jacket, where he’s stashed dozens of packed grenades stolen from the train. He carefully packs each one into a box stacked with empty egg crates. He gestures up at a monitor on the far right of the back wall. It’s showing footage from a large city square, where a group of people have crowded around something spray-painted against the side of a building. “Check it out.”
    I read what the people have painted on the wall.
Day lives!
is scrawled across the building at least three or four times. The onlookers are cheering—some are even holding handmade signs with the same phrase written on them.
    If my thoughts weren’t on Eden’s whereabouts or June’s cryptic signal or Tess, I would be excited to see what I’ve stirred up.
    “Thanks,” I reply, maybe a little too sharply. “Glad they liked our stunt.”
    Pascao hums cheerfully under his breath, oblivious to my tone. “Go see if you can help Jordan.”
    As I make my way to the hall, I pass Tess. Baxter is walking beside her—it takes me a second to realize that he’s trying to put an arm around her neck and murmur something in her ear. Tess brushes him away when she sees me. I’m about to say something to her when Baxter bumps me hard in the shoulder, hard enough to knock me back a couple of steps and send the cap flying off my head. My hair tumbles down.
    Baxter smirks at me, the black soldier stripe still obscuring most of his face. “Make some room,” he snaps. “Think you own this place?”
    I clench my teeth, but Tess’s wide eyes make me hold back.
He’s harmless,
I tell myself. “Just get the hell out of my way,” I reply stiffly, turning away.
    Behind me I hear Baxter mutter something under his breath. It’s enough to make me stop and face him again. My eyes narrow. “Say that again.”
    He grins, shoves his hands into his pockets, and lifts his chin. “I
said,
jealous that your girl’s whoring around with the Elector?”
    I’m almost able to swallow that. Almost. But at that moment, Tess breaks her silence and shoves Baxter with both hands. “Hey,” she says. “Leave him alone, all right? He’s had a rough night.”
    Baxter grunts something in irritation. Then