Free Prodigy by Marie Lu Page A

connections helped her obtain something as expensive as the
     healing salves she must have used on Day. I put out my open palm, and he puts his
     hand in mine.
    “How does it feel?”
    Day shakes his head incredulously. “It feels like nothing. Completely light and painless.”
     A mischievous grin crosses his face. “Now you’ll get to see how I can
really
run a building, darling. Not even a cracked knee to hold me back, yeah? What a nice
     birthday present.”
    “Birthday? I didn’t know. Happy belated,” I say with a smile. My eyes go to the paper
     clips strewn across his lap. “What are you doing?”
    “Oh.” Day picks up one of the things he’s making, something that looks like a metal
     circle. “Just passing the time.” He holds the circle up to the light, and then takes
     my hand. He presses it into my palm. “A gift for you.”
    I study it more closely. It’s made of four unfurled paper clips carefully entwined
     around one another in a spiral, and pulled together end to end so they form a tiny
     ring. Simple and neat. Artistic, even. I can see love and care in the twists of metal,
     the little bends where Day’s fingers worked on the wire over and over until it formed
     the right curves.
He

made
it for me.
I push it onto my finger and it slides effortlessly into place. Gorgeous. I’m bashful,
     flattered into complete silence. Can’t remember the last time anyone actually
made
something for me on his own.
    Day seems disappointed by my reaction, but hides it behind a careless laugh. “I know
     you rich folks have all your fancy traditions, but in the poor sectors, engagements
     and gestures of affection usually go like this.”
    Engagements? My heart flutters in my chest. I can’t help smiling. “With paper clip
     rings?”
    Oh no.
I’d meant it as an honest question of curiosity, but don’t realize I sound sarcastic
     until the words are already out of my mouth.
    Day blushes a little; I’m immediately angry at myself for slipping up again. “With
     something handmade,” he corrects me after a beat. He’s looking down, clearly embarrassed,
     and I feel horrible for having triggered it. “Sorry it’s kind of stupid- looking,”
     he says in a low voice. “Wish I could make something nicer for you.”
    “No, no,” I interrupt, trying to fix what I just said. “I really like it.” I run my
     fingers over the tiny ring, keeping my eyes fixed on it so I don’t have to meet Day’s
     eyes.
Does he assume that I don’t think it’s good enough? Say something, June. Anything.
My details come bubbling up. “Unplated galvanized steel wiring. This is good material,
     you know. Sturdier than the alloy ones, still bendy, and won’t rust. It’s—”
    I stop when I see Day’s withering stare. “I like it,” I repeat.
Idiotic reply, June. Why don’t you punch him in the face while you’re at it.
I turn even more flustered when I remember that I
have

actually pistol-whipped him in the face before. Romantic.
    “You’re welcome,” he says, shoving a couple of the unbent paper clips into his pockets.
    There’s a long pause. I’m not sure what he wanted me to say back, but it probably
     wasn’t a list of a paper clip’s physical properties. Suddenly unsure of myself, I
     draw closer and rest my head against Day’s chest. He takes a quick breath, as if I’d
     caught him by surprise, and then he drapes his arm gently around me.
There, that’s better.
I close my eyes. One of his hands combs through my hair, sending goose bumps down
     my arms, and I allow myself to indulge in a little moment of fantasy—I imagine him
     running a finger along my jaw line, bringing his face down to mine.
    Day leans over my ear. “How are you feeling about the plan?” he whispers.
    I shrug, shoving my disappointment away. Stupid of me to fantasize about kissing Day
     at a time like this. “Has anyone told you what you’re supposed to do?”
    “No. But I’m sure there’s going to be some kind of