Swipe

You just never know which walls have ears.”
    So in this way, over time, Logan was made to forget his lingering questions of long ago, and Grandma was the only person he’d ever known to say a single negative thing about it. At this point, of course, he and everyone else chalked up most of what she said to senility—“She’s lost her marbles,” Mom would tell Logan—but something about it was hard to ignore, even so. “You don’t wanna be late,” Dad said to Lily, finally, once the mood was back to bright and the chatter around the table returned to its frenzied clip. “This is, indeed, the biggest day you’ll have for some time. We gotta get you to the Center.”
    Lily’s birthday was on a Tuesday that year, a school day ordinarily, but by law, students were exempt from school on their thirteenth birthday, so as to facilitate the Pledge. It wasn’t compulsory, getting the Mark, but the idea of spending your thirteenth birthday doing anything else was unheard-of. In the ten years since it had been implemented, the Mark had quickly become the capstone of a childhood well spent, the crowning achievement in a young man’s or woman’s life, the opened door to adulthood and independence. Logan couldn’t wait to see how it looked on Lily’s wrist when she got back.
    “Wish me luck,” Lily said as she walked out the door.
    “Good luck,” Daniel said.
    “Good luck,” Grandma said.
    “You don’t need it,” Dad said.

    That was the last anyone ever saw of Logan’s big sister, Lily.
    8
    Logan found himself telling this to Erin—all of it, all at once— without thinking, during the rest of their walk home. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he finally had her attention, and he didn’t want her to look away. Maybe it was just on his mind recently, and easier to talk about with a stranger. Or maybe, deep down, Logan really did have a bone to pick with Erin and her DOME bureaucrat father. Either way, he kept going, telling everything he remembered, telling all the details, layers and layers of them, beyond any he’d ever heard himself give before, even to his closest friends. And his words surprised him.
    By the time he was done, they’d made it all the way to Erin’s apartment building, and it was there that Erin surprised herself too. She invited Logan in.
    “So you’ve been paranoid ever since?” she asked.
    “I don’t think I’m paranoid,” Logan said. “My mom does, as if she’s one to talk. And my dad, but he puts it in different terms.”
    “What’s wrong with your mom?” Erin asked.
    “I’m not sure. I think the day my sister didn’t come back from the Pledge, Mom just . . . checked out. Everything inside her just left. Like poking a hole in an egg and sucking out the yolk . . . Mom’s all shell now.”
    The furniture in Erin’s apartment was mostly still wrapped in shipping tape, and the floors were littered with boxes, so Logan made his way toward the kitchen table and sat in a folding chair beside it.
    “My dad won’t be home ’til late. Last night he didn’t make it back until morning, I think. So we’re on our own.”
    “Okay,” Logan said, his voice cracking a little.
    But he nearly fell to the floor when something darted up the curtains beside him. To Logan it looked like a dragon, hanging by its claws, four feet long, scaly and wild. “Erin!” he yelled helplessly.
    “Oh.” She laughed. “Except for my iguana.”
    “You have a pet iguana?” Logan looked at it stupidly. “Shouldn’t that be illegal or something?”
    “It is,” Erin said. “Funny thing about having a law enforcer for a dad, though . . .”
    Logan inched his chair away from the window. “What’s its name?”
    “Iggy.”
    Logan stared at it. The lizard basked in the light of the window, tilting its head to peer at the two of them thoughtfully. “You named your iguana ‘Iggy’?”
    Erin reached up and grabbed the animal, draping it gently around her neck. It paced from shoulder to shoulder. “I guess.”
    “You gonna name your kids ‘Kiddies’?”
    “First of all,” Erin said, walking to the cupboard, “I’m never having kids. And second of all, it’s an iguana. What’s he gonna do with a proper name? You think he’s struggling with self-identity?” She picked out an apple and began rubbing it on her shirt, right where the lizard’s tail had been. “Snack?”
    “I’ve heard those pets carry disease . . . ,” Logan said tentatively.
    “Yeah.” Erin