Prodigy

up. Then you’ll be sent to our POW compound for standard interrogation.”
    POW compound. For some reason this triggers the memory of when Metias took me on a mission over a year ago, when we’d tracked that Colonies prisoner of war deep through the Republic’s states and killed him in Yellowstone City. I remember the blood on the ground, soaking that soldier’s navy uniform. A moment of panic seizes me and I reach up to grab Day’s collar. The other men in the room make a startled noise. I hear several metallic clicks.
    Day’s arm tightens protectively around me. “Easy there,” he whispers.
    “What’s the girl’s name?”
    Day turns back to the men. “Sarah,” he lies. “She’s not a threat—she’s just really sick.”
    The men say something that makes Day angry, but my world is becoming a wild chaos of colors again, and I sink back into a delirious half sleep. I hear loud voices, then the swinging sound of a heavy door, and then nothing for a long time. Sometimes I think I see Metias standing in the corner of the barrack, watching me. Other times he changes into Thomas, and I can’t decide if I should feel anger or grief at the sight of him. Sometimes I recognize Day’s hands against mine. He tells me to relax, that everything will be okay. The visions disappear.
    After what seems like hours, I start to hear faint, broken snippets of conversation again.
    “—from the Republic?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re Day?”
    “That’s me.”
    Some shuffling sounds, then expressions of incredulity. “No, I recognize him,” someone keeps saying. “I recognize him, I recognize him. He’s the one.”
    More shuffling. Then I feel Day rise, and I collapse alone onto the cold sheets of the cot beneath me.
They’ve taken him somewhere. They’ve taken him away.
    I want to cling to this thought, but my feverish delirium takes over and I drift back to black.
    * * *
    I’m in my Ruby sector apartment, my head on a pillow damp with sweat, my body covered by a thin blanket and bathed in golden light from the afternoon sun filtering in through our windows. Ollie sleeps nearby, his enormous puppy paws resting lazily on the cool marble tiles. I realize that this doesn’t make any sense, because I’m almost sixteen and Ollie should be nine years old. I must be dreaming.
    A wet towel touches my forehead—I look up to see Metias sitting beside me, carefully placing the towel so water doesn’t drip in my eyes.
    “Hey, Junebug,” he says with a smile.
    “Aren’t you going to be late for something?” I whisper. There’s a nagging feeling in my stomach that Metias isn’t supposed to be here. Like he’s late for something.
    But my brother just shakes his head, making several chunks of dark hair fall across his face. The sun lights up his eyes with glints of gold. “Well, I can’t just leave you alone here, can I?” He laughs, and the sound fills me with so much happiness that I think I might burst. “Face it, you’re stuck with me. Now eat your soup. I don’t care how gross you think it is.”
    I take a sip. I swear I can almost taste it. “Are you really going to stay here with me?”
    Metias bends down and kisses my forehead. “Forever and ever, kid, until you’re sick and tired of seeing me.”
    I smile. “You’re always taking care of me. When will you ever have time for Thomas?”
    Metias hesitates at my words, and then chuckles. “I can’t keep anything secret with you here, can I?”
    “You could have told me about you guys, you know.” The words are painful for me to say, but I’m not entirely sure why. I feel like I’m forgetting something important. “I wouldn’t have told anyone. Were you just worried Commander Jameson would find out and split you and Thomas into different patrols?”
    Metias lowers his head, and his shoulders fall. “I never really had a reason to bring it up.”
    “Do you love him?”
    I remember that I’m dreaming, and whatever Metias might say is simply my own thoughts projected into his image. Still, I ache when he looks down and answers with a slight nod of his head.
    “I thought I did,” he replies. I can barely hear him.
    “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. He meets my gaze with eyes full of tears.
    I try to reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. But then the scene shifts, the light fades, and suddenly I’m lying in a dim whitewashed room on a bed that isn’t my own. Metias disappears into wisps. Caring for me in his place is Day, his face framed