The Limit

by Kristen Landon

  “Hey, wait—” Before I could remember Honey Lady’s real name and call her back to make her answer the dozens of questions I couldn’t even begin to put into words, she’d click-clicked right out the door. I turned to the guys.

  The tall one held up his racket, moving it in small circles. “Jeffery, you go in on the left, and I’ll attack from the right. Ready?”

  What the heck? Ducking, I shuffled back a few quick steps while lifting both arms to shield my head. Talk about bullies and cruel initiation rites.

  Jeffery swung his racket up over his shoulder, holding it tight with both hands and advancing fast on me.

  “Whoa, Jeffery, hold up, man.” The tall guy, Henry, stretched out one arm to block him. “I was just messing with the new boy’s brain.” He gave me a soft punch to the shoulder. “No lie, dude, I’m glad you’re here. Now I’m not the newest newbie on the floor. You’ll be even more clueless than me.” He gave his head a cocky little shake. “Make me look good.”

  Frowning, Jeffery reluctantly lowered his racket.

  I gulped, trying to hide the fact that I was still breathing hard. “N-no problem.” I stood up straighter and shook out my arms. “How long have you guys been here?”

  “Going on two months,” Henry said. “Jeffery’s been here about twice that long. Don’t worry. I’ve got the system down. I’ll let you in on all the insider secrets.”

  “You’re so clueless you don’t even know if there are any secrets,” Jeffery said.

  Henry waved him off. “You play paddle-wall-ball?” he asked me. “Jeffery here doesn’t put up much of a challenge. I’ve gotta find me a worthy opponent.”

  Jeffery pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m getting better.”

  “I’ve never played.” I’d seen paddle-wall-ball on TV. It’s a cross between racquetball and a giant paddleball. I think the courts cost a ton. There weren’t a lot of them around. “Looks fun.”

  “Cool. Go change and we’ll play.”

  “Change?”

  “Your clothes, dude!”

  I stared down at my jeans and T-shirt.

  “He just got here,” said Jeffery. “Obviously he’s ignorant about the procedure to order clothes.”

  “No, I’m not. I just haven’t had the time to do much of it yet.” Hitching my thumb, I turned my head toward the door. “Should I go use one of those cubicle computers?”

  “Whoa, man, you can’t just use any computer out there. You’ve gotta stick with your own—it’s sort of an unwritten rule, like sticking with your own toothbrush. Use your own cubie comp or use the one in your room.”

  “I have a computer in my room, too?” Cool.

  “He doesn’t know anything,” said Jeffery.

  Henry draped one arm around my shoulder and turned me to the door. “Let’s go get you caught up on the way things roll here on the top floor. Maybe a little tour? You up to playing tour guide, Jeffery?”

  “Go ahead,” the short kid said, waving us off as he headed out the door. “Have fun with your new best buddy, Coop.”

  “Coop? I thought your name was Henry.”

  “Cooper. Henry Cooper. I don’t like Henry. You eat yet, bro?”

  “Dinner? No. And it’s Matt.”

  He must have forgotten.

  “Well, come on, bro. Let’s go order us an extra-large with pepperoni and get you some gym clothes.”

  Long strings of chewy mozzarella stretched between my teeth and the piece of pizza in my hand. Lifting it high, I drizzled cheese into my mouth and chewed fast. Across the table Coop smiled through the long strands of mozzarella hanging off his chin.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have ordered triple cheese,” I said after managing to swallow.

  “Naw, this is the only way to go.” Coop gulped down a swig of soda on top of his food.

  We’d had the pizza delivered to my bedroom.

  My bedroom. What an understatement. It was practically an apartment—my own bachelor pad. If only I could invite the guys from school here for a few minutes to let them see how I was going to be living now. Talk about one-upping—this was more like ten-upping, or twenty-upping. Nobody was ever going to beat me. The only thing this place didn’t have was a kitchen, but who needed one? Top Floors ordered all their meals over the computer, like I’d done downstairs.

  Speaking of meals: “I think tomorrow I’ll order some of the barbecue that guy in the glass cubicle had delivered to him. Sure smelled good. What’s with that guy anyway? Why would you want to eat dinner in your cubicle? Unless he’s got something amazing hidden behind those blinds.”

  “Nothing could be amazing enough to keep me boxed up all day long. This is as much as I can take.” He knocked the side of his fist against the big window next to us at the table, which had a great view of the lush lawns and thick trees we’d never be able to run through without first filling out a pile of forms. “At least we have the paddle-wall-ball court.” Coop stood and walked over to the remote control sitting on the arm of the leather sofa. He punched a button and changed the channel on the huge flat screen on my wall from a music video to a sports program. I’d have a clear view of the TV screen from my bed, too, if I ever decided to watch from there.

  “That guy—what’s his name?—he stays in his cubicle all day?”

  “All day, every day,” said Coop, going for another piece of pizza. “Miss Smoot calls him Reginald. The rest of us just call him nutcase.”

  “He has to come out sometime. To sleep? To go to the bathroom. He’s got to go to the bathroom.”

  “Maybe he has a bladder the size of the swimming pool.” Coop picked a huge chunk of sausage off his slice and popped it into his mouth. “He does come out at night. He sleeps in his room. Does other things in there too, a little. Haven’t figured out what yet.”

  “Why don’t you just ask him?”

  Coop sputtered out a laugh, spewing tiny flecks of half-chewed mozzarella and pepperoni. Good thing the table was big enough that none of it reached me.

  “Ask him? Bro, nobody talks to Reginald. When he’s working in that glass box of his, it’s like . . . sacred. You can’t disturb him unless the workhouse is on fire—and even then it’s iffy. Once Isaac—who’s in the cubie next to him—knocked on his glass door and tried to invite him to come play laser tag in the gym with him and Kia. Reginald didn’t make a sound, and within a minute one of the security dudes was up here cutting Isaac down.”

  “Okay, then, no biggie. Just ask him when he comes out.”

  “Right.” Dropping the remainder of his slice onto the table with a splat, Coop leaned forward on his elbows. “If you ever catch sight of him, let me know. I’ll hustle over and give him an interview.”

  “No way. You’re saying you’ve never seen him? In two whole months?”

  “I’m saying.”

  “Surely someone . . .”

  Slumping back in his chair, he shook his head, flipping out his shaggy blond hair.

  “I’ll be the first, then.”

  “Go for it, dude. Hey, how about going to my room and playing some vids while we wait for your gym clothes?” Coop scooped up the remainder of his cheese-smothered piece of pizza.

  “Sure.” I was always up for video games. Sitting back in my chair, I pulled out my cell again and fiddled with it. Nothing. “Do you ever get a signal here?”

  “Haven’t yet.”

  “Doesn’t that seem really weird?”

  “No. Isaac thinks there’s a huge alien spaceship hovering over the workhouse that blocks the signal. I just think there’s a glitch that could be fixed easy enough if Miss Smoot wanted it to get fixed. I’m guessing she thinks our work quota would go down if we could talk and text all we wanted.”

  “Huh,” I said, sticking the phone back in my pocket.

  Coop scarfed down the rest of his huge piece in about two bites. That guy could eat.

  “You want any more?” he asked.

  “Nope. Three pieces does it for me. You?”

&n
bsp; “Naw. Let’s go.”

  “What should we do with the rest?” Half a pizza sat in the box on the table.

  “Just leave it,” he said. “They’ll come clean it up.”

  “They?” I asked. “Who?”

  “I dunno. The cleaning people.” He wiggled his fingers and made a Twilight Zone sound. “They’re like Reginald. You never see them. They wait till you’re out of a room before they come in. You never have to make your bed or pick your clothes off the floor. It’s like—bing—magic. Everything’s done for you.”

  “Oh,” I said. This was weird. Nice, though. No chores. I could live with that. “How do they know when you’re out of a room?”

  “Big Brother, cuz. Big Brother.”

  “Huh?”

  His light blue eyes crinkled along with the rest of his face as he smiled. “Cameras, my man. They’re all over the place, taking in our every move.”

  Wait a minute. Our every move?

  “There are cameras in here? Watching us right now?” I picked up a paper napkin and wiped it across my mouth.

  “You catch on quick.” He gave me a playful shove on the arm. “Maybe you really are smart enough to be a Top Floor.”

  “There isn’t . . . there can’t be cameras in the bathroom. And the closet? Do they watch us change our clothes . . . and do other things?”

  “Don’t sweat it,” said Coop, picking a piece of pepperoni off the leftover pizza and shoving it into his mouth. “I freaked when I first found out too, but Miss Smoot told me they only monitor the bathroom and closet with audio equipment. It’s one or the other—the video monitoring doesn’t have audio and the audio monitoring doesn’t have video. It’s just to make sure we’re safe. And they can’t watch us twenty-four seven. There’s like just a couple of dudes watching all five floors. They’re not going to fixate on one dopey kid changing his socks.”

  “They better not.”

  “They won’t.”

  A high-pitched electronic ring sent a few notes through my room. I sat up straight, clutching the arms of my chair.

  “Doorbell,” said Coop. “Must be your gym clothes.” He got a wild, excited look in his eyes. “Ready for some paddle-wall-ball?”

  “WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T STEP FOOT in that room there.”

  Coop and I had just emerged from the gym, and he pointed straight down the wide space between the wall and the girls’ cubicles to the room on the other side of the building.

  I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. The top floor was perfectly climate controlled, but Coop had given me a workout. I hadn’t made it easy on him, either. Both of us had gone full-out for almost two hours; the only break was when we stopped to say, “No, we’re not done with the gym,” to a boy—Isaac, I learned—and a girl—Kia. They were both at least a year older than me. Isaac’s pale skin turned red under his freckles and his cropped blond hair. He blasted us with a few rounds of his laser gun before stomping out of the gym. Kia—totally opposite-looking from Isaac with her smooth, dark skin and lots of hair spiraling down around her shoulders—retained her composure and lectured us for a few minutes about community property and the necessity of taking turns.

  We still didn’t let her have the gym.

  I chugged my last gulps of water and let the plastic bottle slip out of my hand and thunk on the thick carpeting. According to Coop, our invisible maids would take care of it.

  The two of us quickly approached the room Coop had warned me against. “What’s so scary about it?”

  “They have taken it over.” He wiggled his finger at the deserted girls’ cubicles as we walked past. “Turned it into a dance studio. Mirrors all over everything. And one of those ballet rails—you know? If they ever try to lure you in with the promise of a dance video tournament, run the other direction. It’s not a game. They want to record you dancing with them. Like partners.” His shudder made the ends of his hair tremble.

  “Hey, whoa.” I held out my hand, preventing Coop from entering the hallway to the boys’ bedrooms. “Check it out.” The sliding glass door to Reginald’s cubicle stood open an inch.

  “He’s not in there anymore.” Coop kept walking. “We’d better hurry. We’ve only got ten more minutes of light. I don’t know about you, bro, but I hate changing clothes by flashlight.”

  “Hang on. I just want to look.” Wow. Reginald had quite the setup. Three monstrous monitors made a mini cubicle around the keyboards on the desk.

  “I’m not messing with you. It’s day one for you, so I know you haven’t even thought about buying a light source yet. You don’t know about the guards coming up and confiscating your lantern if you leave it on for more than a minute. You’ve never had to feel your way through your room before. Personally, I like to see what’s on my toothbrush before I stick it in my mouth.”

  For some reason Reginald’s cubicle seemed extra dark already. I looked up. The glass ceiling was covered with blinds as well. Was the guy allergic to light or something?

  “I’m coming.” I ran to catch up with Coop. He was right. This was only my first day on the top floor. I’d have plenty of chances to get the scoop on this mysterious Reginald guy.

  I found Coop standing frozen outside the first door in the hall, his finger to his lips. “Dude, listen.”

  “Whose . . . is that Reginald’s room?” It clicked. Reginald—first cubicle, first room. Me—fifth cubicle, fifth room. It only took me what—three hours to figure out? They were going to drop-kick me off the top floor if I didn’t start catching on to things a lot faster around here.

  “He’s in there.” Hitching his thumb, Coop tapped Reginald’s door. A soft, constant, metallic clanging noise made it through that heavy top-floor bedroom door.

  “What’s he doing?” I asked.

  “Beats me.” Coop’s wide, goofy smile wiggled around his face. “I dare you.”

  My eyebrows arched high. “To . . .”

  “Find out whatever you need to know, man. Get answers to all your questions.” He made circles in the air in front of my face with his index finger. Slowly he lowered the finger.

  “Coop, what are you . . . No!”

  He pressed the finger firmly against the neon-green rectangle of light on the wall right next to the doorknob. Before I could suck in my next breath, he zipped back through the door to the cubicle area and out of sight.

  “Coop!” I whispered my scream, knowing it wouldn’t do any better if I bellowed it. One loud metallic clunk came from inside the room and then silence. I twisted to look way down the hall, to my bedroom. Nope, I’d never make it. Follow Coop? Maybe I could make that. Heavy footsteps pounded toward the door. I glanced up, wondering where the security cameras were. What kind of punishment would a Top Floor get for doorbell ditching?

  “Who is it?” The voice coming through the door was very deep. This Reginald guy must be old. Sixteen or seventeen, maybe.

  “I . . . uh . . . I’m Matthew Dunston. Um, you know . . . I’m new to the top floor and I thought it would be nice to meet everyone.” Rolling my eyes, I shook my head in disgust at how wimpy and high-pitched my voice had come out.

  “Oh.” Long pause. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  Silence. Awkward, eternal silence. Isn’t it a normal reaction for people to open the door when someone rings the bell? I may have been the newest newbie on the top floor, but I was getting the picture pretty darn clearly that Reginald was not your typical “normal” person.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” I said.

  “No.”

  No?

  “How’s it going, dude?” Coop had sneaked back into the hall. “No Reginald sighting yet, huh?”

  “I’m working on it,” I whispered back to him. “So, Reginald, we . . . uh, were just wondering if you want to see this . . . cool thing Coop has.”

  Coop’s eyes bugged out, and his mouth dropped open, forming the word What?

  “We’ll think of something,” I whispered.

&nbs
p; “Can’t,” came Reginald’s deep voice.

  “Sure you can,” I said. “We still have a few minutes until lights-out. Just open the door.”

  “Go away now.” A few seconds later the metallic clanking started up again.

  Coop and I kept our ears pressed to the door.

  “Maybe he’s building something,” I said.

  “Right,” Coop deadpanned. “He must have an anvil in there. Do you think he’s making a suit of armor?”

  Three musical dings reverberated throughout the hallway—the five-minutes-until-lights-out warning.

  We headed toward our rooms.

  “No, wait,” I said. “I’ve got it. He’s chipping away at his wall. He’s trying to break out.”

  “Yeah, right.” Coop’s hair flopped around his head as he laughed. “Like he’d want to do that.”

  The door between Coop’s and Isaac’s opened, and Jeffery poked his head into the hall. “I hope you two best buddies had a great time. You couldn’t come close to how much fun I had. I’m halfway finished with my LEGO sculpture of an electron microscope. Oh! Another delivery.”

  He bent down and scooped up the two boxes that were sitting on the floor outside his door and disappeared back inside his room.

  “Time’s almost up. Tomorrow, dude.” Coop hustled into his own room.

  I made my way alone to the second to last door. My room.

  I’d only gotten as far as putting on my pajama bottoms before—just as Coop had warned me—all the lights in my room began to fade. I glanced at my watch. Yep. Ten o’clock on the dot.

  Coop was wrong about one thing. Brushing your teeth in the dark isn’t so bad.

  My eyes popped open. The clock on the nightstand told me it was just after one in the morning. The clock was neon-green, instead of red like the one at home. It took me a minute to remember where I was.

  I sprang out of bed. Shoot. I’d let it slip my mind. What time was it again? Too late for a live contact. I’d meant to try to call—if I could ever get a signal—or e-mail my parents and Brennan and Lester before I went to bed. This top floor had a way of distracting you.