The Limit

by Kristen Landon

  “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  Gorilla Twin thundered up the few steps toward us.

  “Leave us alone!” I yelled.

  Gorilla Twin’s giant hand clamped down on Lauren’s shoulder. She shrugged him off as if he were a feather, lifting both hands up in a don’t-touch-me pose.

  “I don’t want trouble. I’ll go back to my floor.”

  He moved aside to let her pass back down the stairs. She opened the door, but before she stepped into the girls’ hallway, she frowned up the stairs at me. “And, just so you know, Matt, I think you’ve been very rude. I always answer e-mails within a day at the most. Do you know how awful you’re making Mom and Dad feel?” Right before she pranced through the doorway, she stuck her nose in the air and flipped her long hair. Mid-flip she froze, wincing. One hand lifted to the side of her head and pressed as she squeezed her eyes against the pain.

  Lauren had a headache.

  Long seconds passed as she moved in slo-mo through the door. The ka-clunk of its latches clamping together as it closed echoed up through the stairwell. Short Gorilla Twin and I locked eyes for an instant, and then I sprang into motion, turning and scrambling up the stairs.

  “I’ll go to my floor. I promise!”

  The pounding footsteps kept coming, so I kept running. Survival instinct drove me through the first door I saw, which landed me on the fourth floor. Stupid. I don’t know where I thought I could run or hide. I stood at the end of the fourth-floor girls’ hallway and was met with shrieks and the slamming of doors. As I ran out of the hall, I did catch a glimpse inside one room. No bunk beds on this floor, but there were two beds to a room here.

  A big group of kids stood at the end of the first row of cubicles, blocking the easy route I’d decided to take to the set of stairs by the elevator. Since there was no area in the workhouse I could really escape to, and since Lauren was finished talking to me for the day, I’d realized the only place for me to go was back to the top floor. Maybe if I locked myself in my room, Short Gorilla Twin wouldn’t tear my arms off.

  I took a quick left and ran down the row of girls’ cubicles, circling the big room. I stumbled, but didn’t stop, when I noticed that there were two rows of double cubicles on this floor and that, logically, they were each about half the size of ours on the top floor. No pool room here, either, which made sense if you thought about it. Our pool hung down and took up the space on this floor as well as on our own.

  I turned the last cubicle corner, ready for a long straight sprint to the hallway, when I practically crashed into a group of girls. They didn’t give me a second glance, but the sight of one of them made me slam on the brakes instead of zooming around them.

  “Neela?”

  The girl chatter died away fast as the entire group stopped and turned toward me.

  “Is that you, Neela?”

  “Oh, hi.” She turned to the other girls. “This is a guy from the top floor. Matt. Did you get moved down too?”

  I slowly shook my head from one side to the other.

  “Maybe you should try to. It’s tons of fun on the fourth floor. We’re getting ready to have a dance in the rec room. We don’t have a dance room here, but the rec room is twice as big. Fourth-floor boys aren’t afraid to dance with us.”

  “Neela, what are you doing here? Miss Smoot said you went home.”

  She snorted out a laugh, which seemed strange coming from her delicate Indian-princess face. “Home? As if. My family is never getting under their limit. I had to accept that a long time ago.”

  “So how come . . . why did they make you move down? And in the middle of the night.”

  “Who knows why they do what they do?” Neela linked elbows with the two girls standing closest to her. “And I don’t care what any Top Floor says. I like it down here. So what if we don’t have a pool and our gym only converts from basketball to volleyball? I don’t even care that I get paid less. The work is so much easier. Nobody is snobby, either.”

  One of the girls broke away. “Hey, Neela, I’m going to go to our room and call down for some meds. I want to feel better in plenty of time for the dance.”

  “Hey, yeah, will you get some for me, too? Low dose today. It’s not too bad.”

  The corners of my mouth tugged down. Even as I heard the heavy clomp of Short Gorilla Twin’s feet coming up behind me, I leaned in, almost whispering. “Why are you guys taking medicine? Are you . . . taking stuff you shouldn’t?”

  She waved me off. “Of course not. It’s just a simple painkiller. No side effects at all. Safe enough to take every day—which I usually do—although it doesn’t always help.”

  “What do you take it for?” As if I hadn’t already figured that out.

  She shrugged, unconcerned. “Headaches—from sitting at the computer so much. You know, the light from the monitor plus sitting and thinking so hard all day. Lots of kids get them.”

  “No one on the top floor gets headaches. Except . . . you.”

  The gorilla hand clamped around the back of my neck, and my short visit to the fourth floor came to an abrupt end.

  GORILLA TWIN’S GRIP ON THE BACK of my neck had so much muscle behind it he almost lifted me off the floor as he directed me to the elevator. He used a code instead of his name, and it opened right up for him. We didn’t stop moving once we got to the top floor. He didn’t release me to let me go find Coop, and he didn’t let me save face by avoiding Paige and Madeline, who were taking a food delivery outside the rec room door.

  Gorilla Twin marched me straight down the hall and into my bedroom, propelling me inside with a not-so-gentle push.

  “Oh, uh, hi.” I fought to regain my balance quickly. Honey Lady sat smiling on my sofa, those long legs of hers crossed and one arm stretched across the back. With a twitch of her head, she instructed me to sit by her.

  “I heard you had a little adventure today.” Her liquid-sugar voice poured out in a smooth stream.

  Shrugging, I slumped into the other corner of the sofa. “Why did you lie to us about Neela?”

  “What concerning Neela do you believe I lied about?”

  “You said she went home.”

  Honey Lady’s chin lifted in a big nod. “And you bumped into her on the fourth floor.”

  “Yes!”

  She leaned far across the sofa, grabbing onto my thigh. The flowery scent came along with the rest of her. “It’s tricky, you know? Neela’s case was a tough one to call, but rules are rules. Her family was barely able to duck under their limit. Because of their financial history I suspected they’d used some soft accounting practices. When I told you she’d gone home, I sincerely hoped she’d be able to. She actually spent a day in the holding room on the first floor while we investigated the situation thoroughly. Unfortunately, it turned out that a property her parents claimed as an asset was grossly overvalued, and they were still over their limit. Neela was quite embarrassed, as you can imagine, and begged me to let her move to the fourth floor, so the rest of you Top Floors wouldn’t find out about her situation. You won’t tell the others about her, will you? She’d be devastated.”

  “Guess not,” I mumbled, staring at my fingers. “My sister came here four days ago.”

  Honey Lady nodded. “I am aware of that.”

  “But you didn’t think that maybe I’d like to know?” I rose up straighter. “I want to see her—have a good long talk with her without being chased down.”

  “If you stay in your assigned area, none of our security personnel will ever pay you any notice.”

  “Before today nobody told me I was locked on the top floor.”

  One of her eyes closed halfway as she tilted her head to one side. “I thought I made it clear to you when you first arrived that you need to stay on your assigned floor. A lot of kids live in this workhouse, and I’m responsible for each and every one of you. Do you have any idea what a big job that is? The only way we can even begin to monitor you is if you are sorted out. Can you imagine the n
ightmare I’d have keeping track of everyone if you were all free to roam anywhere in the building? It’s a matter of safety, as well as security and order.” She gave my knee a slight squeeze, and her voice got peppier, even though a hint of a threat lay beneath it. “I have to follow fire codes, so the smoke alarm release must remain functional. I trust you understand how dangerous it can be for kids to leave their floors and that you won’t try tripping it again. Don’t force me to place extra monitoring on you.”

  I crammed myself farther into the corner of the sofa, pushing her hand off my leg. “I want to see Lauren.”

  Honey Lady didn’t say anything for a moment as she slid her lips back and forth against each other.

  “Why don’t you write her a nice e-mail?”

  “Why don’t you fix my account?” I’d never spoken so rudely to an adult before. My patience with the whole e-mail problem had run out. “Lauren said they’ve been e-mailing me, but I haven’t got one message from home yet.”

  “You’re kidding! Matt, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard anything from you about it in the last couple of days, so I assumed the problem had been taken care of. I’ll get the tech team on it ASAP.”

  “Hang on,” I said as I thought out loud. “Lauren is in the workhouse now, so I should be able to get her messages. But she’s been here for four days, and I still haven’t gotten any. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t,” said Honey Lady. “Are you sure she wrote to you during that time? Either way, I’ll be sure to mention it to the tech team.”

  “I don’t want to e-mail her, anyway. She’s here. I want to talk to her face-to-face.”

  Several long seconds passed before she finally said, “I suppose that can be arranged.”

  “What’s there to arrange? All I need to do is walk down to the third floor. Or Lauren can come up here.”

  Honey Lady shook her head and opened her mouth.

  I spoke before she had the chance to shut me down. “I want to go now.”

  “Of course you do.” She reached out to squeeze my thigh again, but her hand froze before it got there, her fingers contracted, and she pulled back. “Listen, Matt, I think it’s a great idea for you to have a visit with your sister. I just need to think how to best accomplish that. We can’t let the other Top Floors and Third Floors see you and Lauren wandering around on floors other than your own.” Rising to her feet, she gave my shoulder a quick pat. “Tell you what, I’ll figure something out and let you know soon. All right?”

  “I want to see her tomorrow.”

  “That might be pushing—”

  “Tomorrow, or you’re going to have one heck of a time keeping me on this floor.”

  One corner of her closed mouth lifted. “You think so? Interesting. I wouldn’t be too anxious to test that theory if I were you. Life on the top floor can be as pleasant . . . or as miserable as you choose to make it. I’ll get back to you about your sister.”

  I clenched my teeth to keep my chin still as she walked out of my room. No, Honey Lady, don’t you be too anxious to test me.

  All through the next day my mind wandered away from my computer screen and down to Lauren on the third floor. I comprehended zero of my history reading assignment and even missed a calculus problem. Every hour on the hour I sent Honey Lady an e-mail reminding her to contact me. She never wrote back. As the last minutes of lunch break ticked away, I scribbled a message on a piece of paper in thick black marker that said, Contact me, Ms. Smoot! Standing on a chair, I held the paper high in the air and moved it slowly from side to side, so one of the security cameras would be sure to pick it up.

  My work couldn’t suck me in. I kept glancing at the clock in the lower corner of my screen, grinding my teeth when the numbers didn’t change fast enough.

  With one minute to go I checked my in-box again. Still nothing from Honey Lady.

  “Ready, Matt?” Her voice made me jump and spin around. She stood at the opening of my cubicle.

  “Where’s Lauren?” I asked.

  “She’s meeting us in the lobby.”

  “Let’s go!” I sprang out of my chair, sending it sliding to crash against my desk.

  It was all I could do to keep from running. Even walking, I still beat Honey Lady to the elevator by a good ten seconds.

  “Sharlene Smoot, first floor,” she said, strong and clear. It opened for her as easily as it had for the gorilla guard.

  The elevator carried us down, not moving nearly fast enough. I bounced on my feet, thinking I should have started another fire and taken the stairs. Finally, the elevator came to a stop with a little bump. The instant the doors slid open, I burst through them and sprinted into the lobby. Other than Crab Woman hunched over her computer at her desk, not a single person occupied the space. I walked around the chairs and sofas, as if Lauren might be crouched behind one of them.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  “Just wait,” said Honey Lady with that sweet smile of hers. She settled into one of the chairs, crossing her long legs. They distracted me for a second.

  “Matt!”

  The next thing I knew, Lauren threw herself against me, practically knocking me over. Her arms wrapped around my neck and squeezed so tight I couldn’t breathe. For a moment I made do without air.

  I nudged her softly to loosen her arms. “You . . . you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “Of course not. I don’t know why I said that stuff last night. We were just worried about you, since you never write back to us.”

  “I wrote you guys a lot, but something’s wrong with my account. I’ve never received a single e-mail from home.”

  “Lauren and Matt, come sit down. You’ll be more comfortable.” Honey Lady stood up, grabbed on to Lauren, and guided her to a seat on the sofa closest to the chair she’d chosen for herself. “Matt, why don’t you tell Lauren about the projects you’ve been working on since you arrived.”

  “She hates when I talk math,” I said, sitting down close to my sister.

  “You got that right,” she said, snuggling up to me. “My work is weird. I mean, I don’t even know how to do it. Still, I have to sit in my little chair and stare at the computer screen for four hours every day. It’s really stupid.”

  “You’re still in the training period,” said Honey Lady. Leaning around Lauren, she told me very forcefully, “I assure you, your little sister is not just sitting in a chair and staring at her computer screen.”

  Lauren shrugged. “That’s what it seems like.”

  At that moment I couldn’t have cared less about Lauren’s boring work assignment. “Tell me what’s going on at home. How is it possible that you ended up here? Can you think of anything Mom and Dad have been doing different with their money?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lauren. “I mean, I didn’t notice anything—well, besides the new car. Dad didn’t want to buy it, but he had to after his wreck. He only got a few bruises, but his car was totaled.”

  “When did all this happen?” I asked.

  “The wreck was Friday. He bought the new car on Saturday.”

  “Terrible things like that happen to good people sometimes,” said Honey Lady. “Don’t be angry or blame your parents. They couldn’t help what happened.”

  Blame my parents? I hadn’t thought about blaming anyone, but I guess it was their fault, wasn’t it? It made me think—just how much had Dad spent on this new car of his? Had he looked into our account first and figured how much was available before it sent the family into a second financial crisis?

  Lauren sat with her eyes closed, one finger rubbing a straight line up and down the middle of her forehead. I pulled her hand down and held on to it. “Was it . . . bad when they came to get you?” As bad as when they took me? I meant. Had she been too terrified to think straight? Did Abbie cry and scream as they dragged Lauren away?

  “I wouldn’t say bad,” she said. “It was more of a surprise. We weren’t out shopping like last time. I would’ve
been much more scared if you hadn’t been taken first and I didn’t know you’d be here. We still cried, but not as much as before, because we’re getting used to it.”

  You can get used to anything, I guess. Roofing nails shoved under your toenails. Drops of acid plopping onto your skin. Watching your family ripped apart before your eyes.

  “So, tell me what you’ve been doing since you got here,” I said.

  “I’ve made two best friends so far. Chloe, on the third floor, and Taylor. I’m not sure where she went.”

  “How do you know her if she isn’t on your floor?” I asked.

  “She came in at the same time I did. We rode in the limousine together. I went over to her room and we had dinner and talked until that lady”—Lauren pointed to Crab Woman at the reception desk—“came in and told us to go to our own rooms and go to sleep. Then in the morning, right when I was barely starting the test, I heard Taylor crying way loud. I peeked out of my door and saw . . .” Lauren’s eyes shifted to Honey Lady and then back to me. “I saw her being walked away from her testing room. Miss Smoot, where did Taylor go?”

  “Taylor is a First Floor and has been assigned to a work project appropriate for her skill set,” said Honey Lady. “Some children don’t have even the basic computer skills needed to be productive in the workhouse. We can’t accommodate children with limited intellectual abilities.” A nice way of saying they don’t want any stupid kids here. “After they’re tested, First Floors remain in this facility only for the short time they spend waiting to be transported to their permanent assignment in a labor-oriented workhouse. A van comes by once a week to pick up any First Floors we’ve accumulated.”

  My stomach sank. Those child slave-labor workhouses I dreaded when I first came here really might exist.

  I was almost afraid to ask. “What kind of work do they do?”

  “Oh, those workhouses are wonderful!” The cheerleader was back in full force. “Sometimes it’s the best thing that can happen for these kids. They acquire real skills as they work on projects such as carpentry, baking, or agriculture—skills that can transfer into jobs in these trades as the kids transition into adulthood. When they go to the labor workhouses, it’s almost like they’re getting an apprenticeship.”