The Limit by Kristen Landon Page A

to look up into the angry eyes of a blond Gorilla Clone guard.
    Without a word—but with lots of pressure on our shoulders—he turned us around and marched us out of that hall. Once in the cubicle room, he shoved us forward, making us stumble a few steps.
    Coop and I headed back to our bedrooms, each of us rubbing a shoulder. We stopped short the second we stepped into the boys’ hallway. Reginald’s door was closed tight. From inside came that familiar, steady metallic clanging. Shoot. We should have at least taken a look inside his room when we’d had the chance.
    Who was this guy? Was he for real? I was beginning to think he could move around the top floor without being detected, like a mist or a ghost. And what the heck was he doing in that room of his?

SEVERAL TRAYS WITH NUMEROUS empty plates, covers, and utensils sat on the ground outside of Reginald’s tightly sealed cubicle. I kicked them softly as I walked by. The wild goose chase he’d sent me on last night had made me forget about my hacking project until it was too close to lights-out.
    The remnants of sausage, bacon, eggs—both scrambled and fried—and steak shifted on Reginald’s breakfast plates, making me picture those trays coming in, overflowing with fat and protein. I shifted a few plates with my foot to get a better look. Man, this guy hadn’t ordered a speck of granola or even one tiny grape. Just thinking about it made my stomach heavy.
    “No!” A panicked female wail made me jump. “No, no, no!” My heart slowed back down fast. Sounded like Madeline. She’d probably just discovered her socks didn’t perfectly match the rest of her outfit. “Where is she?” Madeline’s voice took on anew level of fear and intensity as she burst into the cubicle room. “She can’t be gone. It’s not possible!”
    Coop emerged from the hallway. “Hey, yo, bro, what’s up?”
    Shrugging, I followed him around to the girls’ side. We found Madeline inside Neela’s cubicle ripping open drawers and slamming them shut again. A white-faced Paige stood outside the cubicle, gripping the edge of the cloth-covered wall with both hands while she watched Madeline’s fit and sobbing much quieter tears of her own.
    “What’s going on?” I asked. “Where’s Neela?”
    “That’s just it.” Madeline gave Neela’s chair a kick that sent it crashing against the wall. “They took her. She’s gone!”
    “Gone where?” Once you get taken to the workhouse, is there anyplace else to go?
    “I don’t know,” Madeline wailed.
    “I just . . .” Paige, speaking in a much softer voice, paused to sniff. “I knocked on her door after breakfast . . . and she wasn’t there.”
    “She came and got me right away, of course. And now look at this!” Madeline grabbed onto the back of Neela’s chair and gave it a good shake. “They’ve emptied out her room and clean-sweeped her cubicle.” She threw her arms out and stared at the ceiling, maybe looking into a security camera. “What have they done with her?”
    “People come and go from the top floor all the time.”
    All of us froze. Honey Lady’s smooth, calm voice behind us was not what we’d expected.
    Madeline ran over and threw her arms around her. “Miss Smoot, where is she? What happened to her?”
    Honey Lady gave Madeline’s back three quick, efficient pats. “You’re just witnessing FDO 169-D in action. The workhouse did exactly what it was supposed to do.” She sprinkled her calm, confident words over our heads like powdered sugar. “You all know your work here is what will eventually get your families back under their limits and get you back home where you belong. Right?”
    Sure we all knew that. We just didn’t think about it much. It was kind of cool living here, on our own for the most part, our every wish granted with just the click of the mouse. Home would come . . . later.
    “Neela has completed her time on the top floor,” said Miss Smoot. “It’s as simple as that. It just