Swipe

better plan. So he pulled the boy’s towel over both their heads, held Rusty tight, and made his way out of the building.
    5
    “Where are they, kids? Help me out, here!”
    Down the block, Mr. Arbitor was yelling at Logan and Erin.
    “We haven’t seen anyone yet, sir. We don’t know.”
    “We’re looking,” Erin said. “No signs.”
    “Mr. Arbitor, don’t you think . . .” Logan hesitated. “Don’t you think it’s very unlikely that any of the Dust would be caught dead on this street today? They know how badly they’re wanted. They’re probably hiding as far from here as possible.”
    “Spoken like a true thinking agent, Logan, but we’re a step ahead of you.” Mr. Arbitor smiled. “The Dust didn’t live alone, kids. They lived with these fine folks on the Row. These skimps you’re looking at?” He swept his arms out and gestured to the dozens of couples, parents, grandparents, children . . . all magnecuffed and led away in cars and buses . . . or stretchers. “These skinflints? They were the Dust’s community. They were the Dust’s friends. This—was the Dust’s neighborhood. So today”—Mr. Arbitor smiled—“today we’re seeing how heartless those little pikers really are. Can they stand by and watch their fellow misers lose their homes, their families, and their miserable little lives? Or will they come back . . . to take a stand?”
    “That’s quite a long shot, Mr. Arbitor,” Logan said.
    “Is it? Well, today it’s our best option. We followed that tracker you kids placed on the Dust. Turned up loose in the woods. So it’s out with the old tricks and in with the new. And this here’s all win-win anyway, as I see it. Worst-case scenario, Spokie gets its block back. Of course, best case . . .”
    And just then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw him. Blake. The boy from his window. The boy who’d left the note. The boy who’d taken hold of Erin last night. The boy who started it all, and who wouldn’t let go.
    Blake. The enemy. Logan was here to fish him out, and there he was, right in front of him, right in Logan’s line of sight, under the warm, sunny sky, clear and certain as anything Logan had ever seen.
    He carried a boy in his arms. A boy with red hair. A towel covered both their heads.
    And Blake saw Logan too. Logan was sure of that, now. The two of them made eye contact, and held it for some time. Blake had stopped cold. A deer in the most ferocious headlights he’d ever seen.
    Blake’s eyes bore into Logan. They saw him. And something about them pleaded.
    This was Logan’s chance. To give Blake to DOME . . . Logan would be a hero. His charges, gone . . . his parents, proud of him again . . . all would be forgiven. All would be over. This was Logan’s chance.
    “So keep an eye out, Logan Langly,” Mr. Arbitor said cheerfully behind him. “Keep ’em peeled, keep ’em ready. Keep ’em out for the Dust!”
    And Logan turned to him, suddenly, nervously.
    “Sir—” Logan said. And he paused. “If I see anything . . . I’ll be sure to let you know.”

ELEVEN

THE MEETING OF
THE MINDS
    1
    L OGAN DIDN’T SEE ERIN MUCH AFTER THEIR day together on the Row. At school, she avoided him. After school, there wasn’t much to talk about. The Row was clean now, vacant, but the Dust had not been found. Logan and Erin both were on probation, walking the streets with official DOME files to their names, which would never go away until the Dust was finished and Peck was in a cell.
    The halls at Spokie were quieter now that Dane was gone. Students would pass through them, crying softly. Classes were slower. Teachers pulled back on the workload. Logan stopped worrying about whoever it was that was spying on him. There was nothing left to spy.
    Logan’s father had stopped escorting him to school, and he stopped meeting him on the lawn when classes let out. Nothing was said to Logan about any further punishment. Nothing was said to Logan at all. After the night Logan snuck out, after the night at DOME headquarters, his parents just seemed to give up. They let him live in their house, but they never called him to dinner. They never woke him up in the morning or fixed breakfast for him. They never said good night. DOME had Logan’s house guarded by two agents, twenty-four hours a day. Logan wasn’t quite sure if it was to protect him from Peck or Spokie from him. Either way, his parents washed their hands of him. Logan figured they thought of their job as