I move my food around and the motion makes me think of writing with Ky. One of the noodles is curved like a C. Don’t. I have to stop thinking about Ky.
Some of my food stubbornly refuses to wrap around my fork. I twirl the utensil around and around and final y give up and shove some noodles into my mouth, the ends sticking out. I have to slurp them in.
Embarrassing. For some reason my eyes fil with tears. I put down my fork and Xander reaches over to straighten it. As he does, he looks straight into my eyes, and I can see the question there as though he speaks it out loud: What’s wrong?
Shaking my head slightly, I smile back at him. Nothing.
I glance over at our Official. He’s momentarily distracted, listening to something on his earpiece. Of course. He is stil on duty.
“Xander, why didn’t you—you know—kiss me the other night?” I ask suddenly, since the Official isn’t listening right at this moment. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. I want to know.
“There were too many people watching.” Xander sounds surprised. “I know the Officials don’t care, since we’re Matched, but, you know.” He inclines his head slightly toward the Official next to us. “It’s not the same when you’re being watched.”
“How could you tel ?”
“Haven’t you noticed al the Officials on our street lately?”
“Watching my house?”
Xander raises his eyebrows. “Why would they be watching your house?”
Because I read things I shouldn’t read and learn things I’m not meant to know and I might be falling in love with someone else. What I say is,
“My father ...” I let my voice trail off.
Xander flushes. “Of course. I should have realized . . . It’s not that, at least I don’t think so. These are basic-level Officials, police officers. They’ve been patrol ing a lot more lately and not just in our Borough. In al the Boroughs.” Our street was ful of Officials that night and I didn’t even know. Ky must have known. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t come up the porch steps.
Maybe that’s why he never touches me. He’s afraid of being caught.
Or maybe it’s even more simple than that. Maybe he never wants to touch me. Perhaps to Ky I am only a friend. A friend who final y wants to know his story, nothing more.
And at first that’s who I was. I wanted to know more about this boy who lives among us, but who never truly speaks. More about what happened before. I wanted to know more about my mistaken Match. But now I feel like finding out about him is one of the ways I find out about myself. I did not expect to love his words. I did not expect to find myself in them.
Is fal ing in love with someone’s story the same thing as fal ing in love with the person himself?
CHAPTER 18
Another air car sits on our street, this time in front of Em’s house. “What’s going on?�� I ask Xander, whose eyes widen with fear. The Official with us looks interested but not surprised. I resist the urge to grab his shirtfront tight, wrinkling it in my hands. I hold back from hissing, “Why do you watch us? What do you know?”
The door to Em’s house opens and three Officials come out. Our Official turns to Xander and me and says, almost abruptly, “I hope you both had an enjoyable evening. I’l file the report with the Matching Committee first thing tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I say automatical y as he turns back to the air-train stop, although I don’t know why. I don’t feel grateful.
The Officials at Em’s house walk across her yard and go to the house next door. They hold a container, something Society-issued, and they’re not smiling. In fact, if I had to say how they looked, I would say they looked sad. I don’t like it. “Should we go see if Em is al right?” I ask, and as I do, she opens her front door and looks out. She sees Xander and me and hurries across the yard to meet us.
“Cassia, it’s al my fault. It’s al my fault!” Em’s voice shakes, and tears mark her face.
“What’s your fault, Em? What happened?” I glance next door to make sure the Officials aren’t watching us, but they’ve already disappeared inside. Em’s neighbors opened the door before the Officials had to knock, as though they were expected.
“What’s this about?” Xander’s voice sounds harsh and I send him a look, trying to tel him to be patient.
Em’s face grows even paler and she grabs my arm. Her voice is hushed. “The Officials are col ecting al the artifacts.”
“What?”
Em’s lips tremble. “They said that I’d been seen with an artifact at the Match Banquet, and they’d come to col ect it. I told them it wasn’t mine, I’d borrowed it from you and given it back.” She swal ows and I remember the night of the green tablet. I put my arm around her and glance at Xander.
Em keeps speaking, her voice shaky. “I shouldn’t have told them. But I was so scared! Now they’re going to take it from you. They’re going house to house.”
House to house. They’l be at mine soon. I want to comfort Em, but I have to try to save my artifact, futile as the effort might be. I have to go home.
I give Em a hug. “Em, it’s not your fault. Even if you hadn’t told them, they knew I had an artifact. It’s registered, and I took it to my Banquet.” Then I remember something, and fear washes over me. Ky’s artifact. I stil have it tucked away in my closet. The Officials might know about my artifact, but they don’t know about Ky’s. It could get us both in trouble.
How can I hide it?
“I have to go home,” I say, out loud this time. I pul my arm away from Em’s shoulders and turn toward my house. How long do I have before the Officials get there? Five minutes? Ten?
Em starts crying harder, but I don’t have time to reassure her again. I walk as quickly as I can without drawing attention. A few steps later and Xander is next to me, linking his arm in mine as if we have been on a normal outing and are on our way home.
“Cassia,” he says. I don’t look at him. I can’t stop thinking about al that could be lost in a few short moments. Ky is already an Aberration. If they find out that he has an artifact, wil he become an Anomaly?
I could cover up for him. I could say that it’s mine and I found it when we hiked in the woods. Would they believe me?