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people that’s too expensive, and the zoning’s usually restrictive. That’s why a lot of public buildings, like our school, are underground. And that’s why all the homes here are so skinny . . .” Erin didn’t care. But it was easiest just to let the boy speak until they made it to his house. “. . . and why most people just build up and up. Mine’s eleven stories, but it’s just one room to a floor, so it isn’t actually that big. Some houses have twenty or more.”
    Logan went on to talk about the days when almost everyone in the Corn Belt lived in houses that were wider than they were tall. And you could still see examples of them, he said, in the few that remained among the buildings in Old District farther across town. But only the very wealthiest citizens could afford a home like that, since there were so few left, and since no more were being built.
    “But you live in an apartment, right?” Logan asked. “All the buildings on Vital Lane are apartments, I think.”
    “Yeah,” Erin said. “It’s an apartment.”
    “That’s cool. You have more space to spread out that way,” Logan said, “since it’s not a private lot. I bet your floor’s pretty wide.”
    Erin stopped him. “Well, here you are.” Wright Street was just up ahead. “It was nice meeting you . . .”
    “Logan,” Logan said.
    “Right. Thanks for taking—”
    “Oh, I don’t mind. I’ll keep walking with you.”
    And Erin couldn’t help but laugh.
    “I see you got the Mark already,” Logan said, clueless and trying to keep up with her accelerating strides. “Must’ve been recent—it looks dusty, still.”
    Erin glanced down at her wrist without stopping. “I guess so,” she said. In fact, Logan was right. She’d Pledged for the Mark just last month, and fine nanodust—enough to notice even without a black light—did trail off it as she swung her arm, though she hadn’t noticed until Logan pointed it out.
    “It’s nanotech ink, you know,” Logan said. “Not sure why they can’t just use normal ink, but I guess they don’t.”
    “I wouldn’t know,” Erin said. “Those details don’t make their way onto the test.”
    Logan was quiet for a moment. “I’m kinda nervous about the whole thing, to be honest,” he said.
    Erin frowned. “That’s stupid. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
    “Mm-hm,” Logan said. “Everyone keeps saying that. No one likes to talk about the kids that don’t make it through.”
    This got Erin’s attention. She stopped short and looked Logan in the face. “That’s a myth. And it’s absurd. There’s no such thing as flunkees.”
    Logan frowned. “It’s not a myth.”
    “Come on. Flunkees? There’ve been, like, two.”
    “More than that,” Logan said. “It just never makes the news. No one talks about it.”
    Erin sighed. “You sound paranoid.”
    “I know,” Logan said.
    She looked at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was joking. It alarmed her to conclude he was not. “Look, seriously, you’re more likely to die crossing the street. Like, right now.” And Erin reiterated the point: “You’re more likely to die right now than you are getting the Mark. You’re more likely to die from food poisoning. Or cancer. Or, I don’t know, lightning.”
    “I know,” Logan said.
    “So if you’re gonna bother being nervous about the Pledge, you might as well just be nervous about every little thing you do in life.”
    “I am.” Logan shrugged.
    The indifference in his tone was suddenly infuriating. “You’re not gonna die from getting the Mark!” Erin said forcefully. “Everyone got it when the program started. Millions of people in the A.U. Millions more in the E.U. They’re all fine . And the kids who turn eligible each year are fine too. We’ve all heard the rumors about flunkees, but honestly, that’s just ridiculous.” She wasn’t sure exactly what frustrated her so much about the turn in their conversation, but Erin found herself feeling