Page 20 of The Compound

Six

The satisfaction of our dinner the night before evaporated in the morning when we woke, hungry once again.

I went to wake Andrew, as he had requested, but when I leaned over him and said his name, he jolted awake and stared at me with horror.

He looked at me with wide eyes, as though I were a stranger. “You asked me to wake you,” I said.

He rubbed his face. “Of course. Thanks, Lily. You’re more reliable than any alarm clock.” He looked around the bedroom. “Have you checked the big screen?” I nodded. “No food?”

“No,” I said.

He nodded wearily. I could see him thinking.

“We should probably wake the others,” he said.

He looked at Candice, who was sleeping still, her hair splayed out around her, her mouth slightly open.

She was beautiful in sleep, her face dewy and her lips like rose petals.

As Andrew watched her, I saw his face soften.

“Maybe just a few minutes more,” he said quietly.

For breakfast, Vanessa and Sarah handed me a coffee only, and even then it was only half a cup.

I was desperate for something more substantial, and imagined buttered bagels and bacon-topped pancakes.

Sarah and Vanessa didn’t take their eyes off me the entire time I was in the kitchen, as though I might try to tackle them to get to the remaining duck in the freezer.

—

Task: Each boy and girl must eat a handful of grass

Reward: A whistle

“They’re mocking us,” Tom said.

“It’s cruel,” Mia said. “It’s just cruel.”

But we had no choice: it was the first task of the day.

“I know it’s difficult,” Andrew said, “but I’m positive that the next task will be food. A couple of seconds and this task will be over.”

We sat in the grass, and each took a handful. “Check for insects,” Ryan said, and Susie gave a tearful gasp. Evan had left Sarah’s bed and returned to Susie’s bed that night, and he sat beside her now murmuring encouraging words.

Well, we did it, and what more is there to say? It was grass. It was disgusting.

We went back to the screen.

Task: Every boy and girl must participate in a three-legged race

Reward: Nails

At this, Mia erupted. “I’m done with this shit,” she said. “Fucking bullshit. We’re starving. A whistle? Nails? This isn’t a joke. This is our lives!”

She walked away, and some of the others went after her.

I was too tired to follow. I lay down on the couch, and felt the velvet press against my legs.

Andrew was still staring at the screen. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“I thought by now they’d offer us food. Maybe we haven’t been doing a good enough job?

We’ve done something to displease them, maybe.

” Tom went outside to see if there was anything around the compound that we could eat.

Andrew continued to pace in front of the big screen.

—

The delivery area and the dumpster were side by side; both functioned through the use of vents that were assumed to connect to the production team’s base.

The amount of rubbish we amassed in a day was literally staggering, mostly due to the wrapping or containers our rewards came packaged in.

As Becca and I were in charge of kitchen maintenance, we took the bins out, and generally we had to go out to the dumpster five, six times a day.

I was heading out there with a bag of rubbish, my arms aching almost as soon as I left the house, when I heard the boys’ voices. I hesitated before rounding the corner. I could make out Seb’s drawl, and Tom’s quiet baritone.

Seb was saying: “Funny the way they go around in revealing clothes all day, then when they get into bed they act all frigid.”

Tom said nothing, and Seb continued. “The way they go around. They want you to notice.”

“You have to be a gentleman,” Tom said. He spoke in a weary kind of way, like he was talking to a child. It was clear to me that Tom didn’t like Seb. Seb, somehow, didn’t seem to understand this.

“Of course, man, of course. I’m just saying the girls are beautiful, is all.” He was quiet for a moment, and then said, “Susie’s been hanging around you a lot. What do you think?”

Tom took his time before he answered. “If she were out in the wild, she’d be killed within the hour.”

“She’s a twit,” Seb said excitedly. “It’s people like her who give the rest of us a bad name. People will look at her and think that we’re all that stupid. Her and Lily. They’re just here because they’re nice to look at.”

Tom said, “Lily looks like a lot of other girls, just better. The hair, the teeth, the skin. Some girls don’t do it very well, but Lily has it down. You have to work hard to look like that, and I respect that. I do.”

“I was surprised that Ryan went for her. I thought he might go for Candice. Lily, though—she’ll put out easier.

You can tell just from the look of her.” I glanced down at myself.

I was wearing a floral sundress, similar to what many of the other girls wore every day.

And yet at his words, I felt a flash of shame flood through me.

I wondered if Ryan had thought the same thing when he had chosenme.

Seb went on. “Candice should learn when to stop talking. There’s something about her—like, she’s kind of stuck-up. She thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“Listen. You can’t talk about the girls like that.

You can think whatever you want, but keep it quiet.

People don’t like to hear that kind of thing, even if they’ve had that very thought themselves.

” I could hear him move, as though he was getting to his feet.

“I’m going to go and see if there are any plants we can eat.

You’re in charge of Bathroom and Bedroom Cleaning with Mia, right?

Why don’t you find her and see if she needs any help.

I think I saw her in the nicer bathroom.

” I wasn’t surprised by Seb’s comments, but I was shocked at Tom’s defense of me.

It was true that I looked a lot like the other girls here: there were six blondes, and many of the boys frequently confused me for Susie.

I watched Tom walk away, toward the back of the house, and Seb stayed for a while, dragging his feet before he left, speaking under his breath about the bathroom drains and about Mia.

Although Mia and Seb, judgmental and mean, were practically the same person, neither of them liked the other.

—

Jacintha and I were lying on the grass, chatting about nothing, trying not to think about food.

It was always easy being with Jacintha. When I was with the boys I was constantly considering how I looked, measuring the way they looked at us, calculating their intentions, their shifting levels of desire and interest. With the other girls I was mindful of everything I said, careful not to talk too much or too little; with so few forms of entertainment at our disposal, several of the girls occupied themselves with repeating what they had heard said that day, and the recounted version was not always in line with the original.

With Jacintha, I spoke as I liked, and was entirely at ease, and had the comfort of knowing that she felt the same with me.

We talked about the heat and how we wished it was cool, and then we talked about which of the boys we thought would be the worst at raising kids, and then we talked about the heat again.

I stretched on the grass, my eyes closed against the flare of the sun.

Insects hummed around me, one treading a slow trail up my arm; I was too idle to brush it away.

“It’ll be so nice,” I said drowsily, “when we’re in the final five, and we can talk about whatever we want.

” There were several changes to life in the compound when you made it to the final five.

The instructions from the big screen were for competitions rather than Communal Tasks: the prizes were essential for living comfortably, but whoever lost was banished.

The other big difference was that in the final five, all rules were off: you could talk about your personal lives, talk about your Personal Tasks, and there was no penalty for harming other residents.

The producers only stepped in if someone’s life was in danger.

For the first two seasons, there had been no violence whatsoever, and the residents had lived fairly peacefully with only minor disputes.

In the third season, however, one of the girls had attacked another girl, nearly taking an eye out.

The producers at once added the rule that violence of any kind was forbidden—but viewership had skyrocketed after that particular episode, and so, the following season, they adjusted the rules to allow for controlled conflict among the final five.

It was a great opportunity for vendettas to be addressed and other such things.

“Mmm. And the rewards.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Jacintha.

Excitement flared within me, not just at the prospect of the rewards, which were markedly more valuable late in the show, but at Jacintha admitting that she was looking forward to it, too.

It felt like a vulgar thing, to admit to how much it thrilled me: the promise of material things, the rush you get from obtaining something new, something better than you had before.

“I keep thinking about the Personal Rewards,” I said. “The ones you get at the end, particularly if you win.”

Jacintha’s eyes were open now, too. “It does sound nice,” she said lightly. “I guess I’m mostly here for a good time, though.”

I changed the subject, not wanting to seem quite so shallow. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at her. “Carlos seems to like you,” I said. “He’s always hanging around you.”

“He is gorgeous,” she said. “He just doesn’t talk. I can’t get anything out of him. I’m still keeping my options open, anyway.”