Swipe

season of new-girl gossip wouldn’t have been over even under normal circumstances, but added to the prospect of new romance, the rumors had reached a fever pitch. What was a pretty, Marked girl from Beacon doing with a quiet, underage boy from Spokie? It wasn’t long before the hallway taunts began, followed by the prank tablet messages, the probing questions, the sideways glances, the curious invitations to parties and get-togethers . . . to Logan, everything was suspicious.
    “You’re on edge,” Hailey said, catching him on the escalator as Logan rode up to meet his dad.
    “You think? Everyone in school wants a piece of me.” But of course he didn’t mention the extent of his situation, and just how threatening that sudden popularity actually was.
    “Well, you and Erin seem to be . . . heating up.” Hailey stared intently at the railing of the escalator. She noticed it move just ever so slightly slower than the stairs and watched her hand begin to trail the rest of her. “We never did get that chance to hang out,” she said. “If you wanna just call it off, I’d understand.”
    Logan immediately thought of his promise to Dane, and yet still he heard himself say, “No!” before he could stop it. Until that moment Logan hadn’t realized just how much he’d been looking forward to seeing Hailey. How much it was anchoring him in the turbulence of everything else. “No, I don’t want that at all. It’s just . . . sorta on hold until I’m not grounded . . . and . . . other things . . .”
    “Oh, I know,” Hailey said. “Even so. We can just forget about it if you want.” Hailey shrugged. “Like I said. I’d understand.”
    “Don’t forget about it!” Logan called.
    But she walked on up the escalator without looking back.
    “Good one,” Dane said behind him, with a venom that struck Logan blind and seeped right under his skin. “Thanks for keeping your promise.”
    “Dane,” Logan said, horrified by his luck. “Look, honestly, it’s not what you think.” They’d emerged from the school’s underground hallways and reached ground level at this point. Mr. Langly was at the edge of the sports field, waiting for his son.
    “How would you have any idea what I think?” Dane asked. “You don’t even talk to me anymore.”
    “Dude, please. We’re friends—”
    “You don’t have any friends, Logan. Everyone here hates you. And the ones who didn’t . . .” Logan couldn’t help thinking Dane was talking about the two of them now. “Good job pushing them away.” Then he left Logan in the field, letting his shoulder shove Logan’s hard as he passed by and continued down the block.
    Logan’s head was down and heavy when he said, “Hi, Dad. Let’s go home.”

    After a while Logan almost got used to spending his days in terror at school, in solitary confinement at home, outsmarted, cornered, beaten. There was nothing left.
    By the end of the month, he was practically counting the hours until a faceless stranger named Peck, who had already ruined so much of Logan’s life, just whisked him away and stamped the rest of it out for good.
    4
    Things were looking no better on Erin’s front against the Dust.
    Another night, another rollerstick trip to the stadium. She hoped they weren’t expecting her. She hoped they were still there. She hoped for anything that wasn’t the situation she’d found herself in the last few weeks.
    Home was a distant memory now. Her family reunion was a fantasy.
    Erin was fighting for survival.
    She rolled up to the stadium and stopped the stick far enough out to maintain her silence upon approach. It was dark everywhere under the towering bleachers and across the empty field. Erin stood still and listened for a voice.
    “Clock’s ticking,” one finally said, the words echoing in the darkness. “We move in this weekend.” Erin recognized it as coming from the girl she now knew as Joanne.
    “What makes you so sure we’ll have any more luck with this guy than we did with Logan?” a boy asked. Erin recognized him as the one named Blake. “This guy doesn’t trust us and he’s not afraid of us. What influence will we have?”
    “None,” Jo said. “We’re gonna have to bag ’im.”
    “You’re being reckless,” Blake said. “Prompt a struggle? In that house? No way. We won’t make it off the yard before police have the place surrounded.”
    “We won’t bag him at home,” Jo said. “An opportunity . . . has presented itself.”
    “Oh