Prodigy by Marie Lu Page A

hunting for food
     in Lake’s trash bins? And this is the
first
time I’ve pictured her with upper-class men? I suddenly feel so stupid for telling
     her that I love her, as if I’d be able to make her love me in return like some common
     girl from the streets.
She didn’t say it back, anyway.
    Why do I even care? It shouldn’t hurt this much. Should it? Don’t I have more important
     stuff to worry about?
    The Medic walks over to me. June squeezes my hand; I’m reluctant to let go. She
is
from a different world, but she gave it all up for me. Sometimes I take this for
     granted, and then I wonder how I have the nerve to doubt her, when she’s so willing
     to put herself in danger for my sake. She could easily leave me behind. But she doesn’t.
I chose this,
she’d told me.
    “Thanks,” I say to her. It’s all I can manage.
    June studies me, then gives me a light kiss on the lips. “It’ll all be over before
     you know it, and then you’ll be able to scale buildings and run walls as fast as you
     ever did.” She lingers for a moment, then stands up and nods to the Medic and Tess.
     Then she’s gone.
    I close my eyes and take a shuddering breath as the Medic approaches. From this angle,
     I can’t see Tess at all. Well, whatever this’ll feel like, it can’t be as bad as getting
     shot in the leg. Right?
    The Medic covers my mouth with a damp cloth. I drift away into a long, dark tunnel.
    *   *   *
    Sparks. Memories from some faraway place.
    I’m sitting with John at our little living room table, both of us illuminated by the
     unsteady light of three candles. I’m nine. He’s fourteen. The table is as wobbly as
     it’s ever been—one of the legs is rotting away, and every other month or so, we try
     to extend its life by nailing more slabs of cardboard to it. John has a thick book
     open before him. His eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration. He reads another
     line, stumbles on two of the words, then patiently moves on to the next.
    “You look really tired,” I say. “You should probably go to bed. Mom’s going to be
     mad if she sees you’re still up.”
    “We’ll finish this page,” John murmurs, only half listening. “Unless
you
need to go to bed.”
    That makes me sit up straighter. “I’m not tired,” I insist.
    We both hunch over the pages again, and John reads the next line out loud. “‘In Denver,’”
     he says slowly, “‘after the . . . completion . . . of the northern Wall, the Elector
     Primo . . . officially . . . officially . . .’”
    “‘Deemed,’” I say, helping him along.
    “‘Deemed . . . it a crime . . .’” John pauses here for a few seconds, then shakes
     his head and sighs.
    “‘Against,’” I say.
    John frowns at the page. “Are you sure? Can’t be the right word. Okay then. ‘Against.
     Against the state to enter the . . .’” John stops, leans back in his chair, and rubs
     at his eyes. “You’re right, Danny,” he whispers. “Maybe I should go to bed.”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “The letters keep smearing on the page.” John sighs and taps a finger against the
     paper. “It’s making me dizzy.”
    “Come on. We’ll stop after this line.” I point to the line where he had paused, then
     find the word that was giving him trouble. “‘Capital,’” I say. “‘A crime against the
     state to enter the capital without first obtaining official military clearance.’”
    John smiles a little as I read the sentence to him without a hitch. “You’ll do just
     fine on your Trials,” he says when I finish. “You and Eden both. If
I
squeaked by, I know
you’ll
pass with flying colors. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, kid.”
    I shrug off his praise. “I’m not
that
excited about high school.”
    “You should be. At least you’ll get a chance to go. And if you do well enough, the
     Republic might even assign you to a college and put you in the military. That’s