Matched

“I do, too.” Thankful y, the Official doesn’t gawk at us. He leads the way through the tables and finds one marked with our names near the back.

The waiter arrives with our food almost as soon as we sit down.

The simulated candlelight flickers across the round black metal table in front of me. No tablecloths, and the food is regulation food—we’l eat the same thing here that we’d eat at home. That’s why it’s necessary to book in advance; so the nutrition personnel can get your meal to the right spot.

Obviously dining here doesn’t compare at al to the Match Banquet at City Hal , but it’s the second-nicest place I’ve ever eaten in my life.

“The food’s good and hot,” Xander says as the steam escapes from his foilware container. He peels back the lid and peers inside. “Look at my portion. They want me to bulk up so they keep giving me more and more.”

I glance over at Xander’s portion of noodles with sauce. It is enormous. “Can you eat al of that?”

“Are you joking? Of course I can.” Xander acts offended.

I peel back the foilware and look at my portion. Next to Xander’s, it seems minuscule. Maybe I’m making this up, but my portions seem to be smal er lately. I’m not sure why. The hiking and running on the tracker keep me fit. If anything, I should be getting more food, not less.

It must be my imagination.

The Official, looking even less interested than before, twists the noodles from his container on a fork and looks around the room at the other patrons. His food is exactly the same as ours. I guess the myths about certain departments’ Officials eating better than anyone else aren’t true. Not when they eat in public, anyway.

“How’s hiking going?” Xander asks me, popping a bite of noodles into his mouth.

“I like it,” I answer honestly. Except for today.

“Even more than swimming?” Xander teases me. “Not that you ever did much of that, I guess. Sitting there on the edge.”

“I swam,” I tel him, teasing back. “Sometimes. Anyway. I do like it more than being at the pool.”

“That’s not possible,” Xander says. “Swimming is the best. I heard that al you’ve been doing at hiking is climbing that same little hil over and over.”

“Al you do at swimming is swim around the same little pool over and over.”

“That’s different. Water’s always moving. It’s never the same.”

Xander’s comment reminds me of what Ky said in the music hal about the songs. “I guess that’s true. But the hil is always moving, too. The wind moves things, and the plants grow and change ...” I fal silent. Our neatly pressed Official tilts his head, listening to our conversation. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it?

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.