The Limit Read Online Free PDF Page A

seconds she cleared her throat and sat up straight, tapping her closed fists against the steering wheel. “Okay,” she said, more to herself than to us. She opened her door. “Listen, guys, I’m going to go talk to the people in the limousine. Stay in the car. Do you understand?”
    “Why?” Abbie asked.
    “Just do what she says,” said Lauren.
    Mom climbed out and shut the car door behind her. She took two steps away, came back, reopened the door,and pushed the lock button before closing it again.
    I twisted a loose thread from the hem of my T-shirt around my finger as I watched Mom walk to the limo. She bent at the waist and talked to someone who sat in the front passenger’s seat. Mom became very animated, throwing out her arms, shaking her head, looking up every few seconds for any sign of Dad’s car.
    Mom backed away as the limo door opened and a lady got out. No, it was more like she flowed out, because she moved in such a smooth, liquid way.
    Honey,
I thought, watching her slow, gliding motions. Her tan skin was only a few shades lighter than the light brown color of her suit. Her long, golden-brown hair rippled around her shoulders, like honey when you pour it and it mounds up on itself before settling flat.
    I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. She looked like those ladies on TV and in magazines who try to sell us soft drinks, shoes, or dishwashers.
    Honey Lady turned, her gaze hitting me like an unexpected pass in a basketball game, bam, right in the face. She walked toward me with even, flowing strides, Mom right beside her and talking all the while.
    Honey Lady rapped lightly on the window. I looked at Mom, questioning. She dipped her chin in a small nod.
    “You guys stay in here. Got it?” I said to the girls as I unlocked the car and climbed out.
    “Are you Matthew?” Honey Lady asked with the warmest smile I’ve ever seen.
    The breath in my nose sucked in fast and got stuck in my throat at the sound of her speaking my name. Her voice was thick and sweet and matched the rest of her just right. For a moment I wished I were fifteen years older and tall and covered with muscles.
    I nodded.
    “Hello. My name is Sharlene Smoot.” She held out her hand to me, but I couldn’t move. She lowered her arm. When she spoke again, her voice still came out smoothly, but it also contained authority. “Matthew, you are the oldest child of William and Rebecca Dunston, correct?”
    “He is,” said Mom. “But if you’ll just wait a few minutes, my husband will be home. He’ll explain the mix-up with our account. In fact, he probably has it fixed by now, if you’ll just check.”
    Ignoring her, Honey Lady continued to direct her words toward me. “In light of the fact that your family unit has exceeded its debt limit and that option D of Federal Debt Ordinance 169 has been chosen for your rehabilitation, I must verify your identity and age.”
    “Can we at least discuss that option?” Mom asked, her voice growing frantic. “We’ll happily go on supervised spending. I don’t see why we’re not allowed tochoose our own rehabilitation option. I’d like to see some sort of legal explanation for why the choice was made for our family. What’s so special about our circumstances?”
    With a slow, fluid movement Honey Lady turned to look at Mom. “I’m sorry, I know this must be very upsetting for you, but I don’t have that information. It’s the responsibility of a different department. If you’d like, I’d be happy to e-mail you the contact information once I return to my office. I’m sure someone in that department will be able to answer all your questions. Now, Matthew, if you will please hold still.” She smiled so sweetly I allowed her to take an eye scan as well as a handprint scan with a handheld unit. “Thirteen years old, correct?”
    “Uh . . . yeah.”
    “Very good.” She tapped a couple of things on her scanner. “All done.”
    That was it?
    “I’ll just go inside, then,” I