Prodigy

second and I blink rapidly to try to focus. Maybe I need more medicine. “I’m . . . sorry for forcing you into a tough spot. I’d tried to make the jeeps take a different route in Pierra, but it didn’t work out.”
    “That was the whole delay when you collapsed, right? I was afraid you might’ve gotten hurt.”
    I chew thoughtfully for a moment. Food should taste great right now, but I’m not hungry at all. I should tell him about Eden’s freedom right away, but Day’s tone—somehow like a thunderstorm on the horizon—holds me back. Had the Patriots been able to hear all of my conversations with Anden? If so, then Day might already know. “Razor’s lying to us about why he wants the Elector dead. I don’t know why yet—but the things he’s told us just don’t add up.” I pause, wondering if Razor has already been detained by Republic officials. If not now, then soon. The Republic should know by the end of today that Razor specifically instructed the jeep drivers to stay on course, leading Anden right into the trap.
    Day shrugs and concentrates on the food. “Who knows
what
he and the Patriots are doing now?”
    I wonder if he says this because he’s thinking about Tess. The way she’d looked at him before we escaped into the tunnel . . . I decide not to ask about what might have happened between them. Still, my imagination conjures up a vision of them on the couch together, so comfortable and relaxed like they’d been when we first met the Patriots in Vegas, Day resting his head in Tess’s lap. Tess leaning down to brush her lips over his. My stomach tightens in discomfort.
But she didn’t come,
I remind myself. What happened between them? I picture Tess arguing with Day about me.
    “So,” he says in a monotone. “Tell me what you found out about the Elector that made you decide that we should betray the Patriots.”
    He doesn’t know about Eden, after all. I put down my water and purse my lips. “The Elector freed your brother.”
    Day’s fork stops in midair. “What?”
    “Anden let him go—on the day after I gave you the signal. Eden is under federal protection in Denver. Anden hates what the Republic did to your family . . . and he wants to win back our trust—yours and mine.” I reach over for Day’s hand, but he snatches it away. My breath escapes me in a disappointed sigh. I wasn’t sure how he’d take this news, but a part of me hoped that he would just be . . . happy.
    “Anden is completely opposed to the late Elector’s politics,” I go on. “He wants to stop the Trials, and the plague experiments.” I hesitate. Day is still staring at the can of pasta, fork in hand, but he’s not eating any longer. “He wants to make all these radical changes, but he needs to win the public’s favor first. He basically begged me for our help.”
    Day’s expression quivers. “That’s it?
That’s
why you decided to throw the Patriots’ entire plan out the window?” he replies bitterly. “So the Elector can bribe me in exchange for my support? Sounds like a damn joke, if you ask me. How do you know he’s telling the truth, June? Did you actually get proof that he released Eden?”
    I put my hand on his arm. This is exactly what I feared from Day, but he has every right to be suspicious. How can I explain the gut instinct I have about Anden’s personality, or the fact that I’d seen the honesty in his eyes? I know Anden released Day’s brother. I
know
it. But Day wasn’t there in the room.
He
doesn’t know Anden. He has no reason to trust him. “Anden is different. You have to believe me, Day. He released Eden, and not just because he wants us to do something for him.”
    Day’s words are cold and distant. “I
said,
do you have any proof?”
    I sigh, taking my hand off his arm. “No,” I admit. “I don’t.”
    Day snaps out of his daze and digs his fork back into the can. He does it so hard that the fork’s handle bends. “He played you.
You,
of all people. The Republic is
not
going to change. Right now the new Elector’s young, stupid as hell, and full of it, and he just wants to make people take him seriously. He’ll say anything. Once things settle down, you’ll see his true colors. I guarantee it. He’s no different from his father—just another goddy rich trot with deep pockets and a mouthful of lies.”
    It irritates me that Day thinks I’m so gullible. “Young and full of it?” I give Day a little shove, trying to lighten the mood. “Reminds