The Limit by Kristen Landon Read Free Book Online Page B

out harsh and cold. “Going somewhere?”
    I shook my head.
    “Then get back in your room!” She threw out an arm to point me to the correct door. She didn’t have to tell me twice. My feet couldn’t get me behind my closed bedroom door fast enough.
    So much for trying to make another escape later. Now they’d be watching me too closely.
Idiot! Way to blow your perfect chance.
    Half an hour later I heard a scuffling in the hall. It slowly made its way past my room. Pausing my video game I slid my door open an inch, just enough to get a glimpse into the hall.
    Gorilla Man led a teenager down the hall to theroom just past mine. The kid was groaning. Both his hands were pressing tightly against the sides of his head. Honey Lady followed close behind them.
    “You’re going to be fine now, Tyson. The medication we gave you should be kicking in soon. A good night’s sleep is all you need.” I could just imagine that overly enthusiastic cheerleader smile of hers, even though all I could see was the back of her head.
Go, team!
As soon as Gorilla Man took the kid inside the room, Honey Lady turned on her heel and walked away. My door had eased open to a couple of inches, and I jerked it back to a crack. I still could see Honey Lady’s face as she briskly walked by. Her frown was deep, and her lips were pinched tightly. She looked like she wanted to punch someone. I slid my door silently shut. I sure as heck didn’t want it to be me.

YOUR TEST IS NOW COMPLETE .
    I sat back in the chair, stretching my arms out on either side of me, my eyes remaining on the bright red words flashing across the middle of the screen. Finally, after hours stuck in this bland little room with nothing but a computer, I’d finished. It hadn’t been as bad as I’d expected.
    When Honey Lady had led me into this room right after breakfast, she’d explained that the test became increasingly difficult as it progressed and that I’d eventually come up against some tasks that I wouldn’t be able to complete. Yeah, a test that’s designed to make you fail. What kid doesn’t dream about that? In his nightmares, maybe.
    I did get stuck a couple of times, but not until late in the afternoon. Any task that required me to do something artsy or creative—like graphic design or computer animation—had me stymied. It was never long before Honey Lady—or whoever it was monitoring my work through a computer link in anotherroom—would send me a message saying they were moving me on to my next task—something logical, like programming, or manipulating software so I could compute a super-hard math problem, which I’d zip right through.
    My fingers tapped the armrests of my chair.
So what happens now? How long before Honey Lady comes in and tells me the results—and just what exactly will those results mean?
Part of me wished for more problems to appear on the screen. Those I could deal with. How well I did on this test had been totally up to me. I had no say in our family money issues. I hadn’t been able to prevent Gorilla Man from shoving me into the back of the limo.
    I spun my chair around to face the door. What was keeping Honey Lady? I spun around in a complete circle. The door remained closed. Was that sick kid locked behind some other closed door in this hallway? Last night, when I went into my bathroom, I could hear him moaning through the wall. It made me wonder if he should go to the hospital, but I never heard anyone come and get him during the night. I hope that meant he got better. They
would
take us to the doctor if we got sick, wouldn’t they? I mean, that would be child abuse if they didn’t.
Right
. Like what’s in the kid’s best interest matters to anyone in the government.
    The door burst open. “Matt, you did great!” Honey Lady click-clicked across the floor on her high heelsand threw her arms around me. “I knew you could do it. You made top floor!”
    I almost felt obligated to jump to my feet, clap my hands, and cheer