Xander holds out his last spoonful toward me.
“No, it’s yours,” I say, but he insists. He is smiling and generous and it seems ungracious to push his hand away, so I don’t.
I take the spoon from him and pop the last bite into my mouth. It’s the kind of thing you could never do at a real meal—share food—but it’s acceptable tonight. The Officials wandering around supervising don’t even bat an eye. “Thanks,” I say, and then Xander’s act of kindness inexplicably makes me feel a little like crying, so I have to joke instead. “We shared a spoon. That’s practical y kissing.” Xander rol s his eyes. “If you think that, you’ve never been kissed before.”
“Of course I’ve been kissed before.” We are teenagers, after al . Until we’re Matched, we al have crushes and flirt and play kissing games. But that’s al they are—games—because we know we’l be Matched someday. Or we’l stay Single and the games wil never end.
“Was there anything in the guidelines about kissing? Anything I should remember?” I ask, teasing Xander.
I see an answering look of mischief in his eyes as he leans a little closer. “There are no rules about kissing, Cassia. We’re Matched.” I have looked at Xander’s face many times, but never like this. Never in the almost-dark, never with a feeling in my stomach and heart that is two parts excitement and one part nervousness. I glance around but no one looks at us, and even if they did, al they would see is two shadowy figures sitting rather close as the evening dims.
So I lean closer, too.
And if I needed any more confirmation that the Society knows what they’re doing, that this is the Match for me, the taste of Xander’s kiss would convince me. It feels right, sweeter than I expected.
A chime rings across the schoolyard as Xander and I pul back, looking at each other. “We stil have an hour of free-rec time left,” Xander says, glancing down at his watch, his face open, unembarrassed.
“I wish we could stay,” I say, and I mean it. The air feels so warm on my face out here. It’s real air, not chil ed or warmed for my convenience. And Xander’s kiss, my first real kiss, makes me press my lips together, try to taste it again.
“They won’t let us,” he says, and I see that it’s true. They’re already gathering the cups, tel ing us to finish up our free-rec hours someplace else because the light is leaving here.
Em detaches from her other group of friends and walks over to us, graceful. “They’re going to see the end of the showing,” she says, “but I’m tired of that. What are you going to do?” The moment she asks the question, her eyes widen a little, remembering. That Xander and I are Matched. She had forgotten, for a moment, and now she worries she’l be out of place.
But Xander’s voice is warm, easy, friendly. “Not enough time for a game,” he says. “There’s a music hal near here, one stop over. Should we go there?”
Em looks relieved, glances at me to make sure it’s al right. I smile at her. Of course it is. She’s stil our friend.
As we walk to the air-train stop, I think about how there were once more of us. Then Ky got his work assignment, then Piper. I don’t know where Sera is tonight. Em is here, but there wil come a time when she leaves, too, when it’s just Xander and me.
It’s been a long time, months even, since I’ve been to a music hal . To my surprise, this one is fil ed with blue-clothed people. With workers, young and old, who have finished their late shift. I suppose this happens often; with only a little time left, where else do they have to go? They must stop here on their way back out from the City. Some of them sleep, I see to my surprise, heads tipped back, tired. No one seems to mind. Some talk.
Ky’s here.
I find him almost immediately in the sea of blue, almost before I knew I was looking. Ky sees us, too. He waves but doesn’t stand.
We slide into the nearest seats, Em, Xander, me. Em asks Xander about his experience at the Match Banquet, searching again for assurance, and he starts tel ing her a funny story about not knowing how to put his cuff links on that night, or how to tie his cravat. I try to keep from noticing Ky, but somehow I stil see when he stands up and edges his way toward us. I smile a little when he takes the seat next to me. “I didn’t know you liked music so much.”
“I come here a lot,” Ky says. “Most of the workers do, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“Doesn’t it get boring?” The high clear voice of the woman who sings this song winds above us. “We’ve heard the Hundred Songs so many times.”
“They’re different, sometimes,” Ky says.
“Real y?”
“They’re different when you’re different.”
I’m not sure what he means, but I’m distracted suddenly by Xander pul ing on my arm. “Em,” he whispers, and I look at Em. She’s shaking, breathing fast. Xander stands up and trades seats with her, guiding her, shielding her with his body so that she’s on the inside of our group instead of on the edge.
I lean, too, instinctively helping to hide her, and soon Ky presses next to me, blocking her, too. It’s the second time we’ve touched, and although I’m worried about Em, I can’t help but notice it, can’t help but want to lean into him a little in spite of the fact that I stil feel Xander’s kiss on my lips.
We’ve closed around Em now, hiding her. Whatever’s happening, the less people who see it, the better. For Em’s sake. For ours. I glance up.
The Official in charge of the music hal hasn’t noticed us yet. So many people are here, and most of them workers, requiring a closer eye than students. We have a little time.
“Let’s get your green tablet,” Xander says to Em gently. “It’s an anxiety attack. I’ve seen people at the medical center who have them. Al they have to do is take their green tablet, but they’re so scared they forget.” Even though his voice sounds confident, he bites his lip. He seems worried for Em, and he’s not supposed to say too much about his job to others who don’t share his vocation.
“You can’t,” I whisper. “She took it earlier today. She hasn’t had time to get another one yet.” I don’t say the rest of it. And she’ll get in trouble for taking two in one day.
Xander and Ky exchange glances. I’ve never seen Xander hesitate like this—can’t he do something? I know he can. Once, a child on our street fel and blood was everywhere. Xander knew what to do—he didn’t even flinch—until the ful -time medics arrived and took the boy to the medical center to fix him up.