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all the courtship guidelines.”
    He unknowingly throws me a lifeline with those words. I am not drowning in worry anymore. I am neck deep and it still washes over me in cold waves, but now I can breathe. Xander still thinks we are Matched. Nothing strange happened to him when he viewed his microcard. That’s something, at least.
    “You read all the guidelines?”
    “Of course. Didn’t you?”
    “Not yet.” I feel stupid admitting this, but Xander laughs again.
    “They’re not very interesting,” he says. “Except for one.” He winks at me significantly.
    “Oh?” I say, distracted. I see other youth our age mingling and gathering on our street, walking to the game center like us. They’re waving, calling, wearing the same clothes we wear. But there’s a difference tonight. Some are watching. Some are watched: me, and Xander.
    The others’ eyes glance at us, hold, flicker away, look back.
    I’m not used to it. Xander and I are normal, healthy citizens, part of this group. Not outsiders.
    But I feel separated now, as though a clear thin wall rises up distinctly between myself and those staring at me. We can see each other, but we can’t cross over.
    “Are you all right?” Xander asks.
    Too late, I realize that I should have responded to Xander’s comment and asked him which guideline he found interesting. If I can’t pull myself together soon, he’ll know something’s wrong. We know each other too well.
    Xander reaches for my elbow as we turn the corner and leave Mapletree Borough. When we’ve walked a few steps more, he slides his hand down my arm and interlaces his fingers with mine. He leans closer to my ear. “One of the guidelines said that we are allowed to express physical affection. If we want.”
    And I do want. Even with all the stress I feel, the touch of his hand against mine with nothing to separate us is still welcome and new. I’m surprised that Xander is so natural at this. And as we walk, I recognize the emotion that I see on some of the faces of the girls staring at us. It’s jealousy, pure and simple. I relax a little, because I can understand why. None of us ever thought we could have golden, charismatic, clever Xander. We always knew he would be Matched with another girl in another City, another Province.
    But he’s not. He’s Matched with me .
    I keep my fingers locked in his as we walk toward the game center. Maybe, if I don’t let go, it will prove that we are meant to be Matched. That the other face on the screen means nothing; that it was simply a momentary malfunction of the microcard.
    Except. The face I saw, the face that was not Xander: I knew him, too.

CHAPTER 5
    T here’s an opening over here,” Xander says, stopping at a game table in the middle of the room. Apparently the other youth in our Borough feel the same way we do about this Saturday’s recreation options, because the game center is crowded with people, including most of our friends. “Do you want to go in, Cassia?”
    “No thanks,” I say. “I’ll watch this round.”
    “What about you?” he asks Em, my best girlfriend.
    “You go ahead,” she tells him, and then we both laugh as he grins and spins around to give his scancard to the Official monitoring the game. Xander’s always been this way about the games—completely alive with energy and anticipation. I remember playing with him when we were little, how we both played hard and didn’t let the other win.
    I wonder when I stopped liking the games. It’s hard to remember.
    Now, Xander settles himself at the table, saying something that makes everyone else laugh. I smile to myself. It really is more fun to watch him than to play yourself. And this game, Check, is one of his favorites. It’s a game of skill, the kind he likes best.
    “So,” Em says softly, the sounds of laughter and talking covering her words from everyone but me, “What is it like? Knowing your Match?”
    I knew she would ask me this; I know it’s what everyone would