Matched

We don’t real y discuss the music. Most youth aren’t crazy about sitting with a few other people in the hal and listening to the Hundred Songs piped in from some other place—or maybe even some other time. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any work positions related to music. Maybe that makes sense. Maybe songs only need to be sung once, recorded, and passed along.

“No, let’s do the showing,” Xander says. “You know, that one about the Society? With al the aerial views?”

“I haven’t seen that one yet,” Ky Markham says behind me.

Ky. I turn to look at him, our eyes meeting for the first time since the night I stepped on the tablets. I haven’t seen him since then. I should say I haven’t seen him in person; al week long, his face has appeared in my mind the way it appeared on the screen, surprising me with its clarity and then disappearing suddenly. Leaving me wondering what it means. Why I keep thinking of him instead of moving on.

Perhaps it’s because of what Grandfather said, at the end. By tel ing me it was al right to wonder. Somehow, though, I don’t think he meant Ky. I think it might be something bigger. Something to do with the poetry.

“That settles it, then. We’l watch that one,” Sera says.

“How could you miss an entire showing?” Piper’s question is a good one. We never miss showings when they’re new. This one has been around for several months, which means there should have been plenty of opportunities for Ky to see it. “Didn’t you go with us when we went?”

“No,” Ky says. “I worked late that night, I think.” His tone is mild, but there is, and always has been, something a little deeper and more resonant about his voice. It has a slightly different timbre than most voices. It’s the kind of thing you forget until you hear it again and remember Oh yes. His voice has music.

We al fal silent, as we always do when Ky talks about his work. We don’t know what to say to him when he mentions it. I know now that he probably wasn’t surprised with his assignment at the nutrition disposal center. He’s always known he was an Aberration. He’s been walking around with secrets for much longer than I have.

But the Society wants him to keep his secrets. I don’t know what they would do if they found out about mine.

Ky looks away from Piper and back to me, and it occurs to me that I’ve been wrong about his eyes. I thought they were brown but I see now that they are dark blue, brought out by the color of his plainclothes. Blue is the most common eye color in Oria Province, but there is something different about his eyes and I’m not sure what it is. More depth? I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. If he seems to have depth to me, do I seem shal ow and transparent to him?

I wish I had a microcard about Ky, I think. Maybe, since I didn’t really need one for Xander, I could ask for another one instead. The thought makes me smile.

Ky stil looks at me and I wonder for a moment if he is going to ask me what I am thinking about. But, of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t learn by asking questions. He is an Aberration from the Outer Provinces and yet he has managed to blend in here. He learns by watching.

So I take my cue from him. I ask no questions and I keep my secrets.

When we sit down in the theater, Piper goes in first. Then Sera, Em, Xander, me, and last of al , Ky. The bigscreen hasn’t rol ed down and the lights aren’t dimmed yet, so we have a few minutes to talk. “Are you al right?” Xander asks me quietly, his words a whisper near my ear. “It’s not the tablets, is it? Is it your Grandfather?”

He knows me so wel . “Yes,” I say, and he reaches for my hand, gives it a squeeze. It’s strange to me how our old childhood gestures come back, ones that dropped away as we stayed friends but grew older. Holding his hand stil feels like friendship, like something I’ve known for years—but also different, now that it means more. Now that it means a Match.

Xander waits, to see if I have more to say, but I don’t. I can’t tell Xander about Ky because Ky’s sitting right here next to me, I think, and I can’t tell Xander about the paper because this place is too crowded. These are the reasons I give myself for not confiding in Xander as I usual y do.

They do not feel as true as they should.

Em says something to Xander and he turns to answer. I stare straight ahead for a moment, thinking about how strange it is that I have started keeping secrets from Xander just as we have been Matched.

“It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to spend Saturday night with al of you,” Ky says. I glance over at him as the lights begin to dim, softening his face and, somehow, lessening the space between us. His next words hold a trace of bitterness—only a trace, but more than I’ve ever heard from him. “Having my vocation keeps me busy. I’m glad you al don’t seem to mind.”

“It’s no trouble,” I say. “We’re your friends.” But even as I say it, I wonder if we are. I don’t know him the way I know the others.