Prodigy by Marie Lu

Razor’s words are stirring something in Day, coaxing out a gleam in his
     eyes that takes me aback with its intensity. “Something worth dying for,” Day repeats.
    I should be excited too. But somehow,
still,
the thought of the Republic crashing down sends a pulse of nausea through me. I don’t
     know if it’s brainwashing, years of Republic doctrine drilled into my brain. The feeling
     lingers, though, along with a flood of shame and self-hate.
    Everything I am familiar with is gone.

THE MEDIC SHOWS UP IN A QUIET FLURRY SOMETIME after midnight. She preps me. Razor
     drags a table from the living room to one of the smaller bedrooms, where boxes of
     random supplies—food, nails, paper clips, canteens of water, you name it, they got
     it—are stacked in the corners. She and Kaede lay a sheet of thick plastic under the
     table. They strap me down to the table with a series of belts. The Medic carefully
     prepares her metal instruments. My leg lies exposed and bleeding. June stays by my
     side while they do all this, watching the Medic as if her supervision alone will ensure
     that the woman makes no mistakes. I wait impatiently. Every moment that passes brings
     us closer to finding Eden. Razor’s words stir me each time I think about them. Dunno—maybe
     I should’ve joined the Patriots years ago.
    Tess bustles efficiently about the room as the Medic’s assistant, putting gloves on
     her hands after scrubbing up, handing her supplies, watching the process intently
     when there’s nothing for her to do. She manages to avoid June. I can tell by Tess’s
     expression that she’s nervous as hell, but she doesn’t utter a word about it. The
     two of us had chatted with each other pretty easily during dinner, when she’d sat
     on the couch beside me—but something has changed between us. I can’t quite put my
     finger on it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Tess was
into
me. But it’s such a weird thought, I quickly push it away.
Tess,
who’s practically my sister, the little orphan girl from Nima sector?
    Except she’s
not
just a little orphan girl anymore. Now I can see distinct signs of adulthood on her
     face: less baby fat, high cheekbones, eyes that don’t seem quite as enormous as I
     remember. I wonder why I never noticed these changes before. It only took a few weeks
     of separation to become obvious. I must be dense as a goddy brick, yeah?
    “Breathe,” June says beside me. She sucks in a lungful of air as if to demonstrate
     how it’s done.
    I stop puzzling over Tess and realize that I’ve been holding my breath. “Do you know
     how long it’ll take?” I ask June. She pats my hand soothingly at the tension in my
     tone, and I feel a pinch of guilt. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be on her way
     to the Colonies right now.
    “A few hours.” June pauses as Razor takes the Medic aside. Money exchanges hands—they
     shake on it. Tess helps the Medic put on a mask, then gives me a thumbs-up. June turns
     back to me.
    “Why didn’t you tell me you’d met the Elector before?” I whisper. “You always talked
     about him like he was a complete stranger.”
    “He
is
a complete stranger,” June replies. She waits for a while, like she’s double-checking
     her words. “I just didn’t see the point in telling you—I don’t
know
him, and I don’t have any particular feelings toward him.”
    I think back to our kiss in the bathroom. Then I picture the new Elector’s portrait
     and imagine an older June standing beside him as the future Princeps of the Senate.
     On the arm of the wealthiest man in the Republic. And what am I, some dirty street
     con with two Notes in his pocket, thinking I’ll actually be able to hang on to this
     girl after spending a few weeks with her? Besides, have I already forgotten that June
     once belonged to an elite family—that she was mingling with people like the young
     Elector at fancy dinner parties and banquets back when I was still