Prodigy

it?”
    I rise a little from my crouch.
She’s making her move.
I know this instantly. Something tingles at the back of my mind, a sixth sense, warning me that whatever I’d planned to do to the Elector will shift depending on what June does next. “Why did she collapse?” I ask.
    “Don’t know. Scouts say it looks like she got dizzy or something.”
    “So she’s back on track now?”
    “Sounds like we’re still moving forward.”
    Still moving forward? Was June’s plan foiled? I get up, pace for a few steps, and then return to my crouch. Something’s not right about this scenario. If we’re going ahead with the plan, will I still see her come by in the same jeep as expected—and against her will? Are the Patriots going to know she tried to deviate? The bad feeling refuses to go away, no matter how hard I try to ignore it. Something’s
really
off.
    Two agonizing minutes pass. In my anxiety, I’ve chipped away a large chunk of paint from the hilt of my knife. My thumb’s covered in black flakes.
    Several streets away, the first grenade explodes. The ground trembles, the building shudders, and a cloud of dust rains down from the ceiling. The Elector’s jeeps must’ve made an appearance.
    I leave my vantage point at the windowsill, then head into the stairwell up to the roof. I keep low, careful to stay out of sight. From here, I get a better view of where smoke from the first explosion is rising, and I can hear the startled shouts of soldiers near it. They’re about three blocks away. I flatten myself onto the broken tiles of the roof as several guards come dashing down the street. They’re yelling something incomprehensible—I’m willing to bet they’re bringing reinforcements over to the bombing area. Too late. By the time they get there, the Elector’s jeep will have turned the corner that we wanted it to turn.
    I take out one of my grenades and hold it gingerly in my hand, reminding myself how it works, reminding myself that if I throw it on time, I’ll be going against June’s warning.
“It’s an impact grenade,”
Pascao had said.
“Blows the second it hits. Depress the strike lever. Pull the pin. Throw, and brace yourself.”
Off in the distance, another explosion rocks the streets and an accompanying cloud rises. Baxter was in charge of that one—now he’s somewhere on ground level over there, hiding in an alley.
    Two blocks away. The Elector is getting closer.
    A third explosion goes off. This one’s much closer—the jeep must only be a block away. I steady myself as the ground shakes from the impact. My turn’s coming up.
June,
I think.
Where are you?
If she makes a sudden move, what will
I
do? Over my earpiece, Pascao sounds urgent. “Steady,” he says.
    And then I see something that makes me forget everything I’ve promised to do for the Patriots. The door on the second jeep flies open, and out rolls a girl with a long dark ponytail. She tumbles a few times, then struggles to her feet. She looks up to the rooftops and waves her hands frantically in the air.
    It’s June. She’s here. And there’s no doubt now that she does not want me to separate the Elector from his guards.
    Pascao’s voice comes on again. “Stay the course,” he hisses. “Ignore June—stay the course, do you hear me?”
    I don’t know what comes over me—an electric shudder runs down my spine.
No—June, you can’t stop now,
a part of me says.
I
want
the Elector dead. I want to get Eden back.
    But then there’s June, waving her arms in the middle of a street full of danger, risking her life to raise the alarm for me. Whatever her reason, it must be good. It
must
be. What do I do?
Trust her,
something deep inside of me says. I squeeze my eyes shut and bow my head.
    Each second that ticks by now is a bridge between life and death.
    Trust her.
    Suddenly I jump up and run across the roof. Pascao shouts something angry at me over the earpiece. I ignore him. As the vehicles pass next to the building I’m on, I pull the pin from my grenade and throw it as far as I can down the block. Right in front of where the Patriots want them to go.
    “Day!” Pascao’s frantic voice. “No—what are you—!”
    The grenade hits the street. I cover my ears and am instantly thrown off my feet as a blast shakes the earth. The jeeps screech to a halt right in front of the explosion—the Elector’s jeep tries to swerve around the rubble, but one of its tires bursts and forces it to a stop. I’ve completely