The Limit by Kristen Landon

along with her.
Go, fight, win!
    I stayed firmly planted in my chair. “What exactly does that mean?”
    “I’m sorry,” she said with a giggle that reminded me of Lauren when she’s on the phone with her girlfriends. “Of course you don’t understand what I’m talking about. I’m just so excited for you. Top Floors are few and far between. You’re going to love it on the top floor. It’s where the brightest, most gifted children live and work. You get to do the most rewarding tasks. The work is the most difficult, by far, but all our Top Floors enjoy the challenge. That’s the kind of kids they are—it’s the kind of kid
you
are. That’s why we group you together. We find you tend to get along best with peers on your own intellectual level.”
    “Like . . . what kind of work do we have to do?” The schoolbook child slave-laborers, pushing heavy wagons full of yarn around giant, noisy machines, popped into my mind again.
    “Come on,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “I’ll explain more while we walk. I can’t wait to get you up there.”
    She pulled me from my chair and led me out of theroom. Her grip around my wrist seemed tight enough to cut the circulation to my hand. I wiggled my fingers, just to make sure I still could.
    Bright sunshine from big windows covering the front of the building reflected off all the silver surfaces in the lobby, making the entire room sparkle and shine. If a room could look happy, this one did. In fact, it looked too happy, like it was trying too hard. The wide front doors and the world outside them attracted my eyes.
Later. Too many grown-ups around now.
    “We’ve got a new Top Floor here,” Honey Lady called out, her voice all bouncy and bubbly. Crab Woman looked up, not even trying to hide the sour look on her face.
    “Good for you,” she said in that sharp, sarcastic tone of hers.
    Honey Lady flipped her long, flowing hair and, ignoring her, guided me across the lobby to a short hallway.
    “Emergency stairs are there.” She pointed to a closed door. “Here’s the elevator. You’re already programmed into it.”
    Programmed into an elevator? That was new. Honey Lady pushed a button, and the doors slid open for us to step inside. The elevator had no floor buttons.
    “Say your full name, loud and clear,” she said.
    “Matthew Dunston.”
    The elevator moved.
    “Well done,” she said. “You will now be taken directly to your floor. It works the same way if you ever need to go down—say your name and it will take you to the lobby. You’ll rarely need to use it, though. You work, live, and spend your leisure time on the top floor—you really have no reason to leave it.”
    My feet moved back a few steps. This top floor place was starting to sound like a prison. “I can’t leave the top floor?”
    “I didn’t say that,” she said. “I said you have no
reason
to leave it. If in the future you develop a need to leave, just check with me. There is a certain protocol for these things. I’ll help you make the arrangements and fill out the forms. But, as I said before, besides in an emergency, I really can’t think of a reason for you to leave your floor.”
    “This sounds complicated. How many forms would I have to fill out if I wanted to go outside?”
    Honey Lady laughed. “Oh, Matt. You’re making a bigger deal of it than it is. We just need to keep track of our workhouse residents. Unless they get permission and complete the paperwork, each child needs to remain on their assigned floor. It’s a safety issue.”
    It still sounded complicated to me. I couldn’t just pop downstairs and ride my bike whenever I felt like it.Then again, I didn’t have my bike with me. I didn’t have anything of my own with me. No one I knew, either. It was like starting over in a brand-new life. My stomach bounced up and down along with the elevator. Was there a garbage can in here in case I needed to throw up?
    Ding.
    “Here we are,” said Honey Lady as the