The Limit (17 page)

“Stop it!” Mom stood next to me, her hands tugging my arm. She wasn’t strong enough to hold me back, and the second shoe went even farther off target, smashing into an assortment of perfume bottles on a small vanity table. The mix of strong flowery and spicy aromas stung my nose. I searched the floor for another pair of shoes, even though I knew that breaking stuff was stupid. My parents would just run out and buy a new laptop and restock the perfume bottles.
Go ahead, Mom and Dad. Rack up the account. Don’t worry about the limit. You’ve got one more kid left to sell off.

Abbie’s soft whimpers finally got through to me. I dropped the shoe I’d grabbed from the closet and turned to her. She huddled in a tight ball behind a couple of the pillows on the bed, the tips of her fingers in her mouth.

“It’s okay, Abbie,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” said Mom.

Abbie didn’t budge.

“What were you thinking?” Mom asked. “You show up out of the blue and start destroying things, scaring your little sister to death. It’s inexcusable.”

Inexcusable? Me?

“Just blatant disrespect for family members,” I snapped back. “A behavioral technique I learned from you.”

“That’s not fair, Matt, and I will not have you talk to me like that in my own home!”

“You know what to do, then, don’t you? Keep spending money. Then you’ll never have to worry about me saying another word in this house ever again.”

She paused, pained lines creasing her forehead between her eyes. Didn’t stop me.

“How dare you, Mom? You do realize you only have Abbie left now. What are you going to do when they come for her and you’re out of kids?”

The trembling fingers of Mom’s hand rose to her mouth as she lowered herself to sit on the edge of her bed.

Abbie started crying big-time. Shoot. I shouldn’t have said anything about her getting taken away. She’d already seen Lauren and me go. She had to be scared about the big black limo coming for her someday.

Mom held out her hand and Abbie crawled into her hug.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, no one will take you away.” Mom glanced up at me. “She’s too young. They won’t take her.”

“How do you know? Have you checked it out already?” My voice sounded so mean I didn’t recognize it. I threw my arms out to my sides. “Don’t you and Dad care that we’re gone?”

Mom squeezed her eyes closed and gave her head a shake, as if clearing something out of it. “You have no idea how much I care, Matt. Dad, too. It’s killing us to have you and Lauren gone. We’re both working extremely hard to get the two of you home.”

“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“No! It’s true. That’s what I was working on when you came in. I’m starting a new business! As soon as it takes off, we’ll get the two of you home right away.”

The adrenaline pulsing through me slacked off a tiny bit. “Really?”

“Yes, I have two appointments this very afternoon, and your father has one this evening.”

Any extra money Mom and Dad brought in would totally benefit our account. They were both taking on an extra job, just to get us under the limit—to get me home. “What’s the business?”

“Marketing,” she said, her voice taking on an excited bounce. “There’s this incredibly fast-growing company
that makes amazing health products—energy boosters, antioxidant supplements, things like that. The amazing part is that the supplements come in these little, matchstick-sized rods that are inserted under the skin of the upper arm. A tiny computer chip analyzes the body’s needs and releases the supplements automatically. Isn’t that fantastic? I’m telling you, Matt, these products will practically sell themselves. And what’s even better, if Dad and I recruit other people to join our sales force, we get a commission for every product they sell. Then, when they recruit more people, we get a percentage of their commissions as well, and it goes on and on. Soon we won’t have to worry about doing any selling of our own. We can just sit back and count the money rolling in from the sellers underneath us.”

The smile on my face flattened out. “I don’t understand how that can work.”

“It’s simple, sweetie. They ask each new salesperson—or team, in our case—to recruit ten new people. If each of them recruits ten people, we’ll earn a commission from one hundred and ten people. Imagine all that money. Imagine how much we’ll earn when those one hundred people recruit ten people each, and then those people recruit ten people each.”

“Stop,” I said, holding out my hands. “It’s impossible, Mom. It sounds like a total scam.”

“No, it’s not a scam. I have a long list of people and their testimonials of how they made piles of money working with this company.”

“If that were true, then it would be even more impossible for you to make anything. You’ve got to look at this mathematically. If what you’re saying is true, the sales force would grow at an exponential rate. It wouldn’t take long before the world would run out of people to recruit. Besides that, with all these people selling, who’s buying?”

“A lot of people want these products,” said Mom, sticking her chin in the air. “They practically sell themselves.”

“How many have you sold?” I asked.

She hesitated. “Well, none yet. We’ve been focusing our time on recruiting. That’s where the real money will come from. We’ll start selling after we have our ten people. We could get our first three recruits today, after our appointments. When we’re ready to sell, we’ve got a whole closet full of products waiting to ship out. You’ll see, Matt. It will work. It
has
to work.”

Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back. “Please tell me the company didn’t make you pay for those products before they sent them to you.” It was as if I could see dollar signs flying out the window in front of me. “Don’t tell me you had to put up a bunch of money to get into this.” I already knew they had. How else could
that stupid company earn any money when their entire sales force was focusing on finding more sellers instead of pushing product?

“You know what your father always says: ‘You’ve got to spend money to make money.’ This business is guaranteed to turn a profit in mere weeks. It’s sure to tide us over until your father lands some new clients.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What’s the matter with his old ones?”

“He finished all the projects he had contracted to do. Right now he’s focused on acquiring new projects.”

“What about that Dupree project?” I asked.

“It never worked out. Your father is hopeful about several new leads he has. I’m sure he’ll secure something soon. If not, maybe this new marketing venture will turn into his full-time job as well.”

The dollars in our account disappeared faster than I could think of them. I sank down on the bed, my head drooping into my hands.

“Matt.” Along with her soothing words, Mom stroked her fingers through my hair. “I know you’re frustrated that it’s going to take a while before you can come home, but it’s not as if you’re being hurt in the meantime. Miss Smoot e-mails me regularly about how well you and Lauren are doing. You’ve both made lots of new friends. You’re doing exceptionally well in your
schoolwork, and just look at the job experience you’re getting. Think what an amazing resume you’ll be able to put together once you get out. Miss Smoot also sent me pictures of the workhouse.” Mom gave me a playful jab on the leg. “Talk about cushy. Don’t you just love it there? I worry that you won’t want to come home when the time comes.”

I took a long, hard look at her, and a big lump tightened in my chest.
Would
I want to come home when I was able? I’d always assumed I would, but now that I thought about it, I had to wonder—especially after this. Living on the top floor was pretty cool, but home was
home.
Either way, if my parents kept managing our family account with this crazy logic, I doubted I’d ever get to make that choice.

I WASN’T SURPRISED TO SEE THE FDRA
limo outside with Gorilla Man leaning against the trunk. What
had
surprised me was the fact that Mom had totally bought into the whole the-FDRA-workhouse-is-a-fabulous-place, don’t-worry-that-it’s-making-your-kids-have-convulsions bit. I didn’t care what Honey Lady said or how convinced Mom was. Seizures were a big deal. If nobody else was going to help Lauren, I’d have to do it myself.

Mom hadn’t said a whole lot more, and Abbie—still freaked by my shoe-throwing tantrum—stuck close to Mom on the bed and slurped her thumb like it was a root-beer Popsicle.

No matter what I said, Mom was convinced her new “business venture” was going to bring in piles of money. What was the minimum age for kids at the workhouse? I hadn’t seen any kids younger than about eleven. So unless the FDRA changed the rules again, that gave us five years before Abbie showed up.
I’d be eighteen by then—legally the government would have to set me free and give me an individual limit—but Lauren would still be there. The chances of my entire family ever living at home together again were about as good as the product of two positive numbers coming out negative.

The front door slammed behind me as I stepped onto my front porch. Gorilla Man popped to his feet, turning to look at me. His face wrinkled with confusion. He looked back down the road—where he’d been keeping watch for my arrival—and then at me again.

“I’m ready,” I said, holding up my hands to show I wasn’t going to put up a fight. “Let’s go.”

I stared at the black privacy glass during the entire two-hour drive, thinking what it would be like to spend almost my entire teenage life at the workhouse. No attending Friday night high school football games. No being the star of the school math team and chess club. No prom—I like to think I’d have been cool enough by senior year to get a girlfriend.

“You, young man!” Crab Woman’s always grainy voice welcomed me back. “You’ve caused a lot of bother for us around here. Don’t think you’ve gotten away with anything. Miss Smoot will be coming up to the top floor just as soon as she can break away from a meeting. Do you hear me?”

I waved limply at her as I moved toward the elevator, still lost in my own thoughts. Gorilla Man followed closely, but he didn’t go upstairs with me.

I realized something else I’d miss in here—my driver’s license!

“Hey, bro, you’re back. What gives? They catch you?” Coop’s voice barely registered in my brain.

I walked into my room, thinking only,
I’m here forever
. Mom and Dad were living it up on the outside, thanks to the new limit I’d given them. Why should they have all the fun? Maybe I wanted to buy some things too.

I sat down at the computer and started clicking. Why not? Neither of my parents cared about the limit or how high our debt racked up. I’d show them I didn’t care either.

I bought everything. Dozens of transactions. I didn’t even know what I was buying. I just pointed and clicked. Designer handbag. Sure, that looked good. Point, click, eye scan. Top-of-the-line espresso machine. The scent of coffee made me queasy, but who cared? Point, click, eye scan. A jackhammer. Ruby earrings. A dog kennel. I bought it all.

Man, the boxes were sure going to pile up outside my door over the next few days.

Hey. Wait a minute. Boxes.

The computer chair made a popping noise as I sprang out of it.

“Jeffery?” I called down the hall, even though I had no idea if he was anywhere near his bedroom. I passed Coop’s door and banged on the next one, taking note of the pile of freshly delivered boxes on the floor. “Jeffery, you in there?”

A minute later he opened it. “Oh, it’s you! Are we ready for water jousting now? I’ll grab the paddles. . . .”

“Hang on.” I slapped my palm against his door to keep it from closing on me. Easing it back open wide, I took a couple of steps inside. “Here. I’ll help you.” Man, oh man. I had to stop and check my bearings for a minute. Jeffery’s room had the exact same floor plan and furniture as mine, but that was the end of the similarities. A LEGO skyscraper as thick as a cinder block stood in one corner, reaching all the way to the tall ceiling. Smaller LEGO buildings were in the construction phase around it. Swords and other medieval weapons covered an entire wall, each with a gold identification plate above it like it was in a museum. The name of one sword, King Arthur’s Excalibur, I recognized. These were no cheap plastic or aluminum models. These were heavy-duty, intricately detailed, probably-sharp-enough-to-slice-your-thumb-off duplicates. An aquarium that had to be five feet long stretched against the wall by his bed, filled with exotic-looking fish. But that wasn’t everything. There were also the boxes—piles,
stacks, mounds of them everywhere. Most of them unopened.

I tapped the tip of my shoe lightly against a nearby box. “Looks like you’ve been ordering a lot of stuff since you got here.”

Jeffery popped up on the far side of his bed, holding up two long kayak paddles. Each of the ends had been padded with a three-foot diameter foam ball and then covered in heavy-duty vinyl. One was black. One was blue.

“Cool, huh? See, we can pound each other with these and never get hurt.”

“Jeffery, you’re a smart kid.”

“I know. You like them?”