S. Bodeen: The Compound

We were all outside. The front lawn had been transformed into a football field by temporary white chalk lines. The Seahawks played flag football with us for a long time. I should have been enjoying it.

I wasn’t.

I’d seen the boys from our class arrive, all bearing gifts. Of course they each brought two, one for me, one for Eddy. I could tell some were the same, but lots of them were different. Eddy’s presents were probably something cool. Mine? Not so much. I suppose it showed the degree to which we were liked. Or as in my case, not liked.

The blatant disparity bothered me. So I decided to do something about it.

With everyone out on the front lawn, I claimed I had to use the bathroom. I darted into the house, stopping to grab a roll of tape. In the backyard, a white tent was set up for the cake and presents and the clown show. At the table of gifts, I started switching tags. All the labels with Eddy’s name went on the presents for me, and vice versa.

My movements were hurried as I tried to finish before anyone came.

“Hey, kid!”

I jumped, startled, and the tape dropped from my hand.

The hired clown, in his white face, red nose, goofy striped outfit, and yellow clown shoes, stood there watching me. “What are you doing?”

Words didn’t come. What was I supposed to say? Laughter and cheers came toward us. I kicked the roll of tape under the table and crossed my arms in defiance. What was the stupid clown going to do? Screw up his biggest payday of the year?

The kids poured in and the clown just raised his freakish eyebrows. “You’re obviously the evil twin.” He stepped up onstage to get ready for his show.

We opened presents. I saw the confused looks. Our guests wondered why I ended up with the better presents meant for Eddy. Maybe some would mention it to their mothers later, although with the excitement of the day most of them probably forgot.

And Eddy didn’t know. Not only that, he didn’t even notice what I opened, or compare his gifts to mine. He opened each one, making a big deal over it and the person who brought it. Somehow, he made each kid feel that he had given him the one thing he’d always wanted. Me? I remember ripping open one after the other. Maybe I thanked kids. Maybe I didn’t. The presents were all dumb, anyway. I knew the good ones were yet to come.

That year Dad gave us laptops. Expensive prototypes not yet available on the market. Mine was exactly the same as Eddy’s, like everything Dad gave us. He presented them to us in front of all the kids from school. They immediately crowded around Eddy, clamoring to see.

Left on the outside of the circle, I tucked the laptop under my arm and sat down to have some more cake. The clown was on his way out and stopped for a second. “Hope you got what you wanted, kid.” He winked.

Yeah, there were a lot of reasons for me to forget that July 16 even existed. And even a few reasons to hate clowns.

THINKING ABOUT OTHER BIRTHDAYS MADE ME UNCOMFORTABLE. I didn’t feel like sitting in my room that whole night, thinking about the past. But I also didn’t feel like hanging out with the family. Not that I ever did. They were busy with their own routines.

We did eat dinner together most nights. But after that we went our separate ways. Dad usually went and worked in his office. Lexie retreated to her room or helped Mom with laundry or other chores like that. Terese usually joined them.

That was one thing to be thankful for. Dad believed things like laundry and ironing were strictly women’s work. Fine with me.

I went to pick out a DVD in the media room. Our collection of movies and music was incomparable, as if Dad had sauntered into Blockbuster and Music World and demanded one of everything. On the shelves beside the media were comprehensive catalogs, a product of my father’s fastidious nature, listing every item available. Even after six years, I still hadn’t watched or listened to nearly half of what that room had to offer.

I chose The Matrix , even though it was old and I’d seen it about a hundred times. Sometimes after I watched it, I pretended the Compound was simply an alternate reality and I would wake up any day in a better place.

My mom liked old Cary Grant movies. Sometimes I watched with her. She had a great laugh, an infectious kind that made everyone laugh along. It seemed Cary Grant was the only person who could draw it out of her anymore.

In the family room, Lexie was already watching a movie on the big screen. Horror, of course. Her routine. Sometimes I watched them with her, but she creeped me out more than the movies did. Lexie sat on the couch, not moving, her long, dark hair masking her face. Even during parts that made me flinch or jump or look away, my sister just sat there. Staring. Why was it that nothing seemed to scare her?

I stood in front of her, blocking her view, forcing her to look somewhere other than the screen.

Lexie sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears, revealing her face. She was pretty, with hazel eyes that lit up when she smiled, which wasn’t very often. “Move, stupid.”

“I want to watch something else.”

My sister finally looked directly at me, like I hadn’t existed before then. She frowned. “So, go watch it in your room.”

“No. I want the big screen.” I turned to the player and ejected her movie.

“Hey! I’m watching that.”

“So.” I inserted my DVD. “It’s my birthday.”

“Oh my God.” She laughed and mimicked me. “It’s my birthday.” When she stood up, the top of her head was even with my chin. “I’m watching my movie.” With one fuzzy-slippered foot, she tried to push me away.

I laughed. “Ooh, tough guy.” She was strong but light, so it didn’t take much effort on my part to shove her with one sock-covered foot.

As she fell back on the couch, she swiped at my face, barely missing it with her long, sharp, and perfectly shaped nails. Except for her left thumbnail, which she chewed incessantly.

Through the barrier of her blanket, I grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, forcing her face into the back of the couch. “Now I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure I can take you.”

Lexie tried to rip the blanket off me to get at my skin. To touch me, knowing full well my weakness. But I was stronger.

I smacked her face not all that lightly with her DVD, and then dropped it next to her. “So why don’t you watch this in your room?” With an extra twist, I let go of her arm.

Lexie whirled around, pushing her hair away from her reddening cheek. She picked up the disk. Before she left, she kicked me in the shin. “Happy frickin’ Birthday.” I didn’t bother to retaliate.

The Matrix came on. I dropped the blanket and sat down, rubbing my shin. Yeah , I thought. Happy frickin’ Birthday .

IN HER OUTBURST ON MY BIRTHDAY, TERESE ACCUSED DAD OF planning all of it. Of course he planned the Compound. We wouldn’t still be alive if he hadn’t. But she had made me think.

My father had given us a detailed orientation to the Compound when we first arrived. The structure was three stories underground, made mainly of concrete and steel. The operation of the Compound was fairly simple, as Dad explained it. Room temperature was kept at a constant seventy-two degrees, reverse osmosis technology made our water drinkable, and three industrial incinerators burned all the garbage and waste products, miles of ductwork taking the smoke far away from our pristine air supply.