Matched by Ally Condie

quickly he vanished. He was there one minute—separate and distinct and new—and then he became part of the crowd, as though he had done it all of his life. As if he had never lived anywhere but here.
    And that is how it’s always been with Ky, I realize now, looking back. We have always seen him swimming along the surface. Only that first day did we see him dive deep.
     
    “I have something to tell you,” I say to Grandfather as I pull up a chair next to him. The Officials didn’t keep me too long at the game center after I stepped on the tablets; I still have enough time for a visit. I’m grateful, because this is the second-to-last time that I will visit him. The thought makes me feel hollow.
    “Ah,” Grandfather says. “Something good?” He sits by the window, as he often does at night. He watches the sun out of the world and the stars into it and sometimes I wonder if he watches the sun come up again. Is it hard to sleep when you know you are almost at the end? Do you not want to miss a moment, even those that would otherwise seem dull and unremarkable?
    In the night, the colors wash away; gray and black take over. Now and then a bright pinprick of light flashes as a street lamp lights up. The air-train tracks, dull in the daylight, look like beautiful glowing paths above the ground now that their evening lights have been turned on. As I watch, an air train rushes past, carrying people along in its white and lighted space.
    “Something strange,” I say, and Grandfather puts down his fork. He is eating a piece of something called pie, which I have actually never tasted, but it looks delicious. I wish that it weren’t against the rules for him to share his food with me.
    “Everything’s fine. I’m still Matched to Xander,” I say. I’ve learned from the Society that this is the way to give news; reassurance first, all else after. “But there was an error with my microcard. When I went to view it, Xander’s face vanished. And I saw someone else.”
    “You saw someone else ?”
    I nod, trying not to look too hard at the food on his dish. The flakiness of the sugared crust, which reminds me of crystals on an edge of snow. The red-stained berries smeared across the plate, ripe and surely full of taste. The words I’ve said cling to my mind like the pastry does to the heavy silver fork. I saw someone else .
    “What did you feel, when you saw that other boy’s face come up on the screen?” Grandfather asks kindly, putting his hand on mine. “Were you worried?”
    “A little,” I say. “I was confused. Because I know the second boy, too.”
    Grandfather’s eyebrows curve in surprise. “You do?”
    “It’s Ky Markham,” I tell him. “Patrick and Aida’s son. He lives in Mapletree Borough, down the street from me.”
    “What explanation did the Official give you for the mistake?”
    “It wasn’t a mistake by the Society,” I say. “The Society doesn’t make mistakes.”
    “Of course not,” Grandfather says, his tone measured and even. “People do, though.”
    “That’s what the Official thinks must have happened. She thinks someone must have altered my microcard and put Ky’s face on there.”
    “Why?” Grandfather wonders.
    “She thinks it was some kind of cruel joke. Because,” I lower my voice even further, “of Ky’s status. He’s an Aberration.”
    Grandfather pushes out of his chair, knocking his tray to the ground. I’m surprised to see how thin he’s grown, but he stands straight as a tree. “There was a picture of an Aberration as your Match?”
    “Just for a moment,” I say, trying to reassure him. “But it was an error. Xander’s my Match. This other boy wasn’t even in the Matching pool at all.”
    Grandfather doesn’t sit down, even though I remain in my chair hoping to calm him, to make him see that this is all right.
    “Did they say why he was classified that way?”
    “His father did something,” I say. “It isn’t Ky’s fault.” And it isn’t.