Page 13 of The Compound

When we finished we were triumphant, and though some of us would have been glad of a break we agreed to do one more task before lunch.

The reward for the third task was the biggest yet: a couch. It would be our first piece of indoor furniture, and we all agreed that it was the thing we needed most urgently for the living room. “A couch really ties a home together,” Evan said, nodding.

The task stated that each resident had to keep another resident under water for a minute. I thought that it would be easy.

We changed into our swimsuits and got into the pool. For a while we messed around, splashing water at each other and swimming idly, until Andrew reminded us that we needed to get going: the sun was at its highest point, and we would all burn, whether we were aware of it or not. We gathered at the top of the pool. Tom suggested we divide into the pairs we had slept in: I noticed that he was careful not to use the word “couple.” Evan would count the time when the girls were under the water, and Jacintha would count when the boys were below.

Ryan stood beside me. In the pool, he was magnificent: he looked like a god. The boys requested to go first, and we let them. Ryan ducked so I could put my hand on the back of his neck. “All right,” Jacintha called, her own hand on Carlos’s head. “Go!”

Ryan took a breath and went under. I kept my hand very lightly on his neck, and kept my gaze fixed on him, as though he might float away at any moment. Jacintha was counting down from sixty. It was otherwise quiet, all of the girls staring at the boys they held under the water. Some of the boys’ shoulders were visible, but the majority of them had submerged most of their torsos. The seconds went by slowly, and around fifty seconds in, I felt the muscles on Ryan’s neck bunch beneath my hand, his head moving. I softened my hold on him a little.

“One!” Jacintha called, and I pulled him up. The pool was suddenly alive with motion, as the boys crashed to the surface. Ryan was gasping, as were the others. I felt oddly close to him in that moment. I moved hishair out of his face, and he held my eye as he caught his breath. After a minute, Tom called, “Ready, Evan?”

“Give me a second,” he said, still catching his breath. I was thrown by how breathless everyone was, even Tom. I inhaled deeply and saw the other girls doing the same.

“Ready?” Ryan asked me. Some of the boys were murmuring to the girls, and I tried not to listen. Gravely, Ryan said, “It’s longer than you think.”

“Ready,” I said.

“On the count of three,” Evan said. “One, two—three!”

When I had read the instruction on the screen, I had experimentally held my breath and counted to sixty. It wasn’t comfortable in the last few seconds, but it was doable. Underwater, with a hand on my head, it wasn’t doable. I panicked almost immediately, and though Ryan’s hand was gentle, barely there at all, I was seized by the overwhelming fear that I was going to die. I could hear Evan’s voice, but after twenty seconds I couldn’t keep track anymore. I didn’t register the decision to rise to the surface; I only knew that one second I was writhing underwater, and the next I was gasping and clinging to Ryan’s shoulder. Evan was still counting—he was only at forty-seven—and when I could think rationally, I said, “Shit. Shit, I messed up.”

“It’s okay,” Ryan said, and held me as I continued to gasp. “Don’t worry. Just breathe.”

“Shit,” I said again. Pathetic; I was pathetic.

“You’re not,” he said, and I realized that I had spoken aloud. “Look,” he said. He twisted slightly—I hadn’t registered that I was wrapped around him like a vine on a tree. There were several girls above the surface, gasping like me: Candice, Sarah, and Becca.

When the minute was up—how the seconds flew when you had air to breathe!—the other girls crashed to the surface, gasping, but grinning too. I looked away. Some of the boys started murmuring to each other.

“Look,” Andrew called. “It’s okay, ladies. It’s a tough challenge. Take a breath, and we’ll go again.”

The girls who had remained underwater were visibly confused. Their partners quietly explained to them that not all of us had managed it.“Who?” I heard the word echoing around the pool, bouncing off the water. “Who, who?”

“I can do it,” I said to Ryan. “It just felt different than I thought it would.”

“I know,” he said. “I nearly wasn’t able to make it either.”

My breathing was regular by then. I looked at the other girls who hadn’t managed it. Becca was still breathing heavily. She was clutching Sam’s shoulder, and he was talking quietly to her. I took my hands off Ryan and looked away. Candice was composed, but looking at Becca with worry. “Let’s take a few minutes before we go again,” she said. Everyone milled around the pool, but I tried to stand still and inhale as much air as possible. After a bit, Candice nodded at Evan.

“One more time,” Ryan said. “A minute, and then it’s over.” He smiled at me. Ryan made everything seem easy. I took a breath, and felt my chest expand.

“Go!” Evan called, and I submerged myself again. I was calmer this time: I knew that I was safe, and that my lungs were capable of surviving a minute without air. Still, I understood now just how long a minute felt underwater; I tried to sing a song in my head, but I kept abandoning it every few seconds. I thought thirty seconds had to have passed. Ryan’s hand on my head was light; I felt his finger stroke my neck, and I knew he was trying to reassure me. But my lungs were burning, and I kept imagining inhaling a mouthful of chlorinated water, how it would feel as it hit my lungs, how I would cough and choke, only to take in another mouthful of water. My hands curled into fists and came up to my chest. I curled myself into a ball, my head tossing back and forth. I made some noise, deep in my chest—it was horrible, horrible, horrible—

Ryan pulled me to the surface and kept lifting me until I was above his head. “You did it,” he said. I slapped at his shoulders and told him to put me down, but I felt triumphant, fiercely proud of myself. No one was celebrating, though. I saw Candice and Sarah gasping and looking around them. Becca was pressed against Sam, trembling. “She didn’t make it past forty seconds,” Ryan said in my ear. He tutted with regret.

“All right,” Andrew said. “Why don’t we take a break—get some water, maybe get some food.”

Most of the others got out of the pool, leaving only Tom, Andrew, Sam, Becca, Vanessa, andme.

Tom looked displeased. He said, “We have other tasks to do. This is only our third, and it must be—what, two, three o’clock?” He glanced at Vanessa, and said, “Vanessa, would you mind checking the screen and seeing if it’s green yet?”

Vanessa didn’t look thrilled with the instruction but swam to the edge and walked inside. I knew that the concrete was atrociously hot—the others had squealed when they stepped out—but she walked unhurriedly, her hips swaying.

To Becca, I said, “How do you feel now?”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice scarcely audible. “I just don’t want to do it again.”

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