Matched (20 page)

Then I remember something, and fear washes over me.
Ky’s artifact.
I still 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.

“I have to go home,” I say, out loud this time. I pull 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 all that could be lost in a few short moments. Ky is already an Aberration. If they find out that he has an artifact, will 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?

“Cassia,” Xander says again. “I can hide it for you. Say you’ve lost it. Make your story convincing.”

“I can’t let you do that for me.”

“You can. I’ll wait for you outside while you grab the compact. It’s small enough to fit in your hand, right?” I nod. “When you come back out, act like you’re crazy about me, like you hate saying good-bye. Throw your arms around me. Drop it down my shirt. I’ll take care of it after that.”

I’ve never seen this side of Xander before
, I think, and then I instantly realize that I have. When he plays the games he’s like this. Cool and calm and full of strategy and daring. And in the games at least, his risks almost always pay off.

“Xander, this isn’t a game.”

“I know that.” His face looks grim. “I’ll be careful.”

“Are you sure?” I shouldn’t let him do this. It’s weak to consider it. But still: He can take my compact for me. He would save it for me. He would risk this for me.

“I’m sure.”

 

Once I close the front door behind me, I run down the hall to my room as fast as I can. No one from my family sees me, for which I’m grateful. With shaking hands I tear open my closet door and push the sets of plainclothes along the rack until I find the pair where I’ve hidden Ky’s artifact inside the pocket. I open the brown paper envelope and tip it so that the arrow in its case slides out. I shove the envelope into my pocket; I grab the compact from the shelf and look at the two items in my hands.

Golden and beautiful. In spite of myself, I’m tempted to give Xander my compact instead of Ky’s spinning arrow, but I put the compact onto my bed and close my hand over Ky’s artifact. Saving my compact would be selfish. It would only save a
thing
. But saving Ky’s artifact saves both of us from questioning and him from becoming an Anomaly. And how can I let them take the last piece of his old life?

This is safer for Xander, too. They don’t know Ky’s artifact exists, so hopefully they won’t miss it. My compact will be accounted for and taken away, as expected, so they won’t look for it or wonder if I’ve given it to someone else.

I run back down the hall and open the front door.

“Xander, wait!” I call out to him, trying to make my voice light. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good night?”

Xander turns, his face open and natural. I don’t think anyone else could see the glint of cunning in his eyes, but I know him so well.

I skip down the steps and he holds out his arms to me. We embrace, his hands at the small of my back and my arms around his neck. I place my hand just under the collar of his plainclothes and open my fingers. The artifact slides down his back and my palm lies flat against his warm skin. We look each other straight in the eyes for a moment and then I lean close to his ear.

“Don’t open it,” I whisper to Xander. “Don’t keep it in your house. Bury it or hide it somewhere. It’s not what you think.”

Xander nods.

“Thank you,” I say, and then I kiss him right on the lips and I mean that kiss. Even though I know I’m falling for Ky it is impossible not to love Xander for everything he is and everything he does.

“Cassia!” Bram calls from the steps.

Bram
. He’s going to lose something today, too. I think of Grandfather’s watch and anger rises in me.
Do they have to take
everything?

Xander breaks away from our embrace. He has to hurry to hide the artifact before they get to his house. “Good-bye,” he says with a smile.

“Good-bye,” I call back.

“Cassia!” Bram calls again, fear in his voice. I glance back down the street, but I don’t see any Officials yet. They must still be in one of the houses between mine and Em’s.

“Hi, Bram,” I say, attempting to sound casual. It’s better for us all if he doesn’t suspect what Xander and I have done. “Where’s—”

“They’re taking the artifacts,” Bram says, voice shaking. “They called Papa in to help with the collection.”

Of course. I should have realized. They need someone like him to help determine if the artifacts are real or false. Another fear strikes me. Was he supposed to take
our
artifacts? Did he pretend mine was lost? Did he lie for Bram or me? How many stupid mistakes is he willing to make for those he loves?

“Oh no,” I say, trying to act as though all of this is new to me. Hopefully Bram won’t find out that Em told me earlier. “Did he take ours with him?”

“No,” Bram says. “They won’t let anyone collect from their own families.”

“Did he know this was going to happen?”

“No. When the call came over the port he was shocked. But he had to report right away. He told me to listen to the Officials and not to worry.”

I want to put my arm around Bram and comfort him because he is about to lose something, something important. So I do. I hold onto my brother and for the first time in years he hugs me back, tight, the way he did when he was a little boy and I was the big sister he admired more than anyone else in the world. I wish I could have saved his watch, but it was the wrong color, silver instead of gold. And the Officials know about it.
There was nothing I could do
, I tell myself, trying to believe it.

We hold on for a few seconds and then I pull away and look Bram in the eyes. “Go get it,” I say to him. “Go look at it for the last few minutes you have and remember it. Remember it.”

Bram doesn’t pretend to hide the tears in his eyes now.

“Bram,” I say, and I hug him again. “Bram. Something bad could have happened to the watch even without this. You could have lost it. You could have broken it. But this way you can look at it one last time. It’s never really lost to you as long as you remember it.”

“Can’t I try to hide it?” Bram asks. He blinks and a tear escapes. He brushes it away angrily. “Will you help me?”

“No, Bram,” I say gently. “I wish we could, but it’s too dangerous.” What I risk has a limit. I won’t risk Bram.

When the Officials arrive at our house and come in the door they find Bram and me sitting on the divan side by side. Bram holds silver; I hold gold; we both look up. But then Bram’s gaze flickers back to the polished silver surface in his hands and I glance down at the gold one in mine.

My face looks back at me, distorted by the curve of the compact’s surface, the way it was at the Match Banquet. Then, the question I asked myself was:
Do I look pretty?

Now the question I ask is:
Do I look strong?

As I look at my eyes and the set of my jaw, it seems to me that the answer is
yes
.

A short, balding Official speaks first. “The Government has decided that artifacts promote inequality among members of Society,” he says. “We request that everyone turn in their artifacts for catalog and display at the Museum in each City.”

“Our records indicate that there are two legal artifacts in this residence,” a tall Official adds. Does he stress the word
legal
, or is it my imagination? “One silver watch, one gold compact.”

I don’t say anything and neither does Bram.

“Are these the artifacts?” the bald Official asks, looking at the items we hold. He seems weary. This must be a terrible job. I imagine my father taking artifacts from people—old people like Grandfather, children like Bram—and I feel sick.

I nod. “Do you want them now?”

“You may retain them for a few more minutes. We are required to do a quick search of the house.”

Bram and I both sit quietly while they go through our house. It doesn’t take long.

“Nothing valuable here,” one of them says quietly to another in the hallway.

My heart is on fire and I have to keep my mouth shut tight so that I don’t try to burn these Officials with the flames.
That’s what
you
think,
I say to myself.
You think there’s nothing here because we’re not putting up a fight. But there are words in our heads that no one else knows. And my grandfather died on his terms, not yours. We have things of value but you can never find them because you don’t even know how to look.

They walk back into the room and I stand up. Bram does, too. The Officials wave detection instruments around us to make sure we haven’t concealed anything on our persons. Of course, they find nothing.

The female Official comes forward and I see a pale band of skin on her finger, where a ring must have been. She lost something today, too. I hold out the compact, thinking about how my artifact has traveled from a time before the Society, from one family member to another, to me. And now I have to let it go.

The Official takes my compact; she takes the watch from Bram. “You can come see them in the Museum. Any time you like.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, and then he straightens his shoulders. And oh, I see Grandfather, I do. My heart swells with the thought that perhaps he isn’t completely gone after all. “You can take it,” Bram says, “but it will always be mine.”

 

Bram goes to his room. The heaviness in his step and the way he closes the door tells me that he wants to be alone.

I feel like punching something but I shove my hands into my pockets instead. There I find the brown paper envelope: a crumpled shell that once contained something valuable and beautiful. It’s only an envelope, not an artifact; it didn’t even register on the Officials’ detection instruments. I pull it out and tear it in half, angrily. I want to rip it up and shred it to pieces. The jagged line along the envelope pleases me. It feels good to destroy. I get ready to make another wound. I look down for another place to tear.

My breath catches in my throat when I see what I almost ruined.

Another part of Ky’s story
. There’s something else the Officials have missed.

Drowning, drinking
the words at the top say, the letters strong and beautiful, like he is. I think of his hand writing them, his skin brushing the napkin. I bite my lip and look at the picture below.

Two Kys again, the younger one, and the one now, both of them with hands still cupped. The background in the first one is a spare, bare landscape, the bones of rocks rising behind Ky. In the second picture, he’s here in the Borough. I see a maple tree behind him. Rain falls in both pictures, but in the first one his mouth is open, his head tipped back, he drinks from the sky. In the second one his head is down, his eyes panicked, the rain thick around him, streaming off him like a waterfall. There is too much rain here. He could drown.

When it rains, I remember
are the words written at the bottom.

I look out the window where the burning evening sun sets in a clear sky. There is no trace of clouds, but I promise myself that when it rains I will remember too. This paper, these pictures and words. This piece of him.

T
he air train into the City the next morning is almost silent. No one wants to talk about what happened in the Borough last night. Those who gave up their artifacts are hushed with the loss; those who never had any to begin with are quiet out of respect. Or, perhaps, out of satisfaction, because now everything has been equalized.

Before he gets off at his stop for swimming, Xander leans over to kiss my cheek and says softly, “Under the newroses in front of Ky’s house.”

He steps off the air train and disappears with the other students while I ride on toward the Arboretum. Questions crowd my mind:
How did Xander hide the artifact in the Markhams’ flower bed unseen? Does he know it belongs to Ky or is it coincidence that he picked the Markhams’ house as the hiding place?

Whatever Xander knows or guesses, one thing is certain: He couldn’t have picked a better hiding place. We’re all charged with keeping our yards neat and clean. If Ky digs in his own yard, no one will suspect anything. I just have to tell him where to look.