Prodigy

“I’m a criminal now, and I’ll never be able to go back to the comforts of my old life. The thought leaves a sick, empty feeling in my stomach, as if I miss being the Republic’s darling. Maybe I do. If I’m not the Republic’s darling anymore, then who am I?”

June is experiencing uncomfortable separation from The Privileges of Wealth her old life offered within the Republic. As a prodigy in their Trials, June was devoted to serving the Republic, and she reaped all its benefits from a very early age. With her newfound separation from that life, she faces more struggle than she has ever faced before.

“Then Day stumbles. This time I feel him tremble, and my heart clenches. ‘Stay with me,’ I whisper. To my surprise I almost say, Stay with me, Metias. I try to hold him up, but he slips.”

Before his death, Metias was the most important person in June’s life. With their parents deceased and no other relatives, Metias was the only person June truly loved and cared about losing. In the aftermath of his loss, Day has taken up residence in that hole within June’s heart. Her love for him is the only thing she holds onto after betraying the Republic.

“Now I remember reading about this in one of my grade school classes. When the time comes for a new Elector Primo, the country must remind the people to focus on the positive. Mourning brings weakness and chaos. Moving forward is the only way. Yeah. The government’s that scared of showing uncertainty to their civilians.”

Early on, Marie Lu establishes the increasing instability of the Republic by detailing the abrupt and rushed transition of Electorship to Anden after his father’s sudden death. The fact that Day interprets the Republic’s actions as fear of showing uncertainty to their citizens further implies the government is losing the support of their people.

“I find myself amazed—yet again—at how smoothly she can become another person. The same way she fooled me on the streets of Lake.”

Day remembers vividly how June manipulated him into believing that she was someone else. It is her deception that led to his capture and planned execution, which also caused the deaths of his mother and brother. The ease with which she demonstrates different identities is reason enough for Day’s various moments of doubt and distrust in June throughout Prodigy.

“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.”

June struggles to determine where her loyalties lie after betraying the Republic. Despite disagreeing with their ways, the Republic has always played a significant role in her life. The shame and self-hate she feels results from her relationship with Day, who is on the other side of the spectrum regarding ways of life in the Republic. She feels ashamed of a past that causes issues in their relationship, but she also feels shame from betraying a nation to which she once devoted everything.

“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 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.”

Day’s insecurities about class and wealth begin to overpower his feelings for June, affecting their interactions in negative ways. His own insecurities and bitterness cause resentment and envy to fester in their relationship.

“Fact of the matter is, Razor pays me. […] I’m here for the money, kid, and as long as I keep getting my cash, I’ll do whatever I can to help stitch the United States back together.”

Kaede’s comment illustrates the influence money has on her decisions. While she is not aware of Razor’s betrayal, her lack of passionate dedication to the cause highlights key flaws in the Patriots’ ranks.

“The shackles on my wrists clank softly. I couldn’t have been sure before, but now I know that the Patriots are watching my every step. Razor’s soldiers are slowly getting into position and closing in. I might never see that guard again—but now I study the face of every soldier around me, wondering who is loyal, and who is a Patriot.”

Though June has not explicitly stated her loyalties, nor is she consciously aware of their shift, her observations here indicate her trust turning against the Patriots and back toward the Republic. Her questions regarding loyalty hint at her uneasiness toward the Patriots and her growing trust in Anden.

“This guy’s all sophistication, power, and authority. He leans in close to say something to June, and they laugh and drink champagne. I can picture them together. They match.”

Day’s insecurities only increase as he watches June’s interactions with Anden. Mirroring the earlier scenes in which he considers Tess a good match for himself, Day sees the same compatibility when observing June and Anden.

“What makes me sick is that June doesn’t look like she’s faking her laughter in this video. She almost seems to be having a good time. She’s on par with men like him: aristocrats. Made for the Republic’s upper-class life. How can she ever be happy with someone like me, someone with nothing but a handful of paper clips in his pockets?”

Day’s overwhelming hatred for The Privileges of Wealth prompts him to overanalyze every interaction June has with the Republic’s elite society, causing more resentment to cloud his feelings for her. His internal conflict and insecurities about his lower class status and lack of wealth causes him to self-sabotage his feelings for her.

“With Day, there’s a fire and a hunger between us, even anger, some deep desperation and need. With Anden, though, the kiss is all delicacy and refined grace, aristocratic manners, power, and elegance. Pleasure and shame wash through me.”

June realizes she enjoys kissing both Day and Anden for opposing reasons, symbolizing the internal struggle she has in choosing between the Patriots and the Republic. The fact that Anden’s kiss causes shame symbolizes the shame she feels enjoying the aristocratic privileges that contradict everything Day stands for.

“I hate you. I hate you with everything I’ve got, and I swear I’m going to put a bullet in you the first chance I get. For the first time since I joined the Patriots, I actually find myself excited for the assassination. I’m going to do everything to make sure the Republic can never touch my brother again.”

Illustrating the darker side of The Compromising Nature of Love, Day’s strict moral code becomes increasingly compromised as his hatred grows. As he becomes more desperate to save his brother, he considers doing things he never would have entertained the thought of before.

“In some ways, it doesn’t matter why it all started, or if it was ever right. The thing is—over time, the laws evolved and twisted. Things changed. At first the Trials weren’t given to children, and they didn’t favor the wealthy. […] The public is angry, but the Senate is afraid to change things that might lead to them losing control again. And to them, the Trials are a way to reinforce the Republic’s power.”

Anden’s monologue illustrates the ways in which the Republic is desperate to hold onto their slipping power. It also proves how the system is set up to benefit the wealthy.

“June, always June. I hate her for a moment, and wonder if everything would’ve been better if we’d never met.”

Up until this point, Day has been avoiding his subconscious feelings, made apparent in his dreams. He pretends he does not blame June for his recent misfortune, but as the conflict reaches its peak in the novel, and he considers stopping the assassination based on her signals, he finally admits to the negative feelings he harbors.

“I start thinking, for the hundredth time, about why June wants to stop the assassination. Did she uncover something the Patriots are keeping a secret from me? Or did she do what Tess had guessed she might do—did she betray us? I shake the thought stubbornly away. June would never do that. Not after what the Republic did to her brother. Maybe June wants to stop the assassination because she’s falling for the Elector. I shut my eyes as the image of them kissing flares up in my mind. No way. Would the June I know be that sentimental?”

As the tension of the plot rises toward the climactic scenes, Day struggles with who To Trust or Not To Trust. He begins to wonder about the Patriots’ true intentions; he wants to trust June but cannot help but be cognizant of Tess’s worries.

“So, this is the guy who kissed June—he’s tall and good-looking and rich, and he’s going to uphold all of his father’s laws. He’s the boy king who symbolizes everything the Republic is; the war with the Colonies that led to Eden’s illness, the laws that put my family in the slums and lead to their deaths, the laws that sent me off to be executed because I’d failed some stupid godly test when I was ten.”

This passage signifies how closely tied Day believes wealth is to the Republic’s values. This belief prompts his innate hatred and distrust of anyone who benefits from the system, making it difficult for him to trust Anden even when June advocates for him.

“He played you. You, of all people. The Republic is not going to change. Right now the 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.”

Day closely correlates intent and quality of character with wealth and class. He believes Anden’s position and status automatically make him a bad person with cruel intentions. Day’s condescending tone as he berates June because of her trust in Anden demonstrates his insecurities surrounding his own status and the current state of their relationship.

“You know why I agreed to help the Patriots? […] Because I wanted to help you. You think everything’s my fault, don’t you? It’s my fault that your brother’s being experimented on. It’s my fault that you had to leave the Patriots. It’s my fault that Tess refused to come.”

June finally confronts Day about his own negative feelings toward her, the same feelings she suspected in him since the opening chapters. Despite everything she has done for him to redeem her previous failures, June begins to believe that nothing she does will ever make up for her past, complicating her internal conflict.

“‘Are you trying to say we should help Anden more than we already have—that we should keep risking our lives for this goddy rich stranger you barely know?’ The venom in his eyes as he spits out the word rich startles me, making me feel like he’s insulting me too.”

As they begin to argue in earnest, the depth of Day’s insecurities surrounding wealth and class become more evident to June. His disdain for anyone with wealth, including June, is explicitly displayed, forcing June to confront the fact that wealth has a larger impact than she realized.

“You can’t lump everyone into the same category, Day. Not everyone working for the Republic is evil. What about me? Or my brother and parents? There are good people in the government—and they’re the ones who can spearhead permanent changes for the Republic.”

June calls out Day’s habit of lumping all the elite into one category, as evil and irredeemable people. By pointing out cases such as herself and her family, June attempts to break through his false beliefs and prove that there are people in the Republic worth saving, and that killing Anden will only condemn them all to uncertain and potentially worse fates.

“Has June ever had to worry about stealing half a can of beef hash? If she’d been poor, would she be so quick to forgive the Republic?”

The extent of Day’s distrust in June’s judgement is evident in this passage of interior monologue; Day believes June cannot separate her loyalties and the truth from the allures of wealth and class privilege. As someone who has gone his whole life without it, Day realized from a young age how much money truly means, and he cannot imagine anything more influential than having access to it.

“[W]hen I study my room’s ceiling, I see security cameras at every corner, broadcasting my image live to the public. The Republic is afraid to give people even the slightest sense that Day and I aren’t being taken care of.”

Despite the new alliance Day has made with Anden and the promised changes for the better, the Republic is still highly unstable. Their full transparency about June and Day to their citizens is a welcome change and juxtaposition from its previous secretive and manipulative methods and evidence of Anden’s commitment to change.

“He hesitates for a long time, but when he does speak, he shakes his head and gives me a tragic little laugh. I can tell he’s changed his mind, taking a secret and folding it back into his heart.”

Day’s decision not to tell June about his chronic illness demonstrates The Compromising Nature of Love. By letting her go without any complicated emotional attachments or moral obligations to see their relationship though to his death, Day allows June the freedom to pursue the Princeps position she desperately wants.