Hector was not at my door this time. I can't say I was pleased. Au contraire, I was suspicious. He had to be plotting something, wanting me to let my guard down so he could act. It might seem I'm a paranoid person, but anyone would be if they'd grown up the way I had.

You learn to keep your distance from the superiors at a very young age. Even as a toddler, it's easy to pick up on their indifference. I was so terrified of them as a child, anytime one came close to me I would turn paste-white and scream, I've been told. I wasn't the only child to react in such a way. Sometimes I think it's true, that babies can sense things adults can't. It's their innocence, they have built in radar that tells them when something is entirely bad. I've heard the same is true for animals. I've never seen an animal around a superior. Either superiors couldn't be bothered with any type of animal - thinking they're pesky and unworthy, or the animals couldn't be bothered with the nasty superiors.

Upon entering the dinning area, I could see why Hector wasn't waiting for me to emerge from my stuffy quarters. It was packed. Even more so than I usually found the room during breakfast hours. The firsties must have been aching for some fun.

Hector was standing in his usual guarding spot, and there were at least five other superiors stationed strategically around the room - the better to keep an eye out for any intruders or unwarranted behaviors from the firsties. Things have the potential to go wrong when there's a room full, but everyone had a smile on their face, enjoying their meal. The festivities would partake afterwords.

Hector winked as I passed by him to collect a tray. I didn't show any acknowledgment of the gesture, and he didn't seem to care. He didn't smile - guards can't go around smiling - nor did he leave his post, but his eyes did linger on me, making me more than a little self-conscious. I was wearing appropriate attire, a long dress with long sleeves. It had a low neckline, so I'd worn my thick choker that covered most of my neck from hungry eyes. The dress did cling to my curves, but very little skin was showing; therefore, my veins wouldn't be visible to the superiors. They wouldn't be thinking about the warm, satisfying blood pumping through my body if they couldn't see it.

I joined my family at their table, and thanked my parents for their happy birthday wishes. My mother admired my dress, it had been hers, but she claimed it never fit her right. She was taller than me, and slimmer. I wasn't overweight, but I was curvier than my mother. I wore a size six, whereas she was a solid size three.

"It fits you perfectly." She cooed, a proud mother for something as simple as seeing me look lovely in her dress. We didn't experience much joy in the compound; it didn't take much to make most firsties happy.

Some superiors were hauling in numerous boxes. In the superiors' powerful limbs, the boxes appeared weightless, but they would be weighty for a firsty. I could read the print on the side of them, and knew the boxes were full of the alcoholic beverages for my celebration.

I hadn't been able to join a coming of age celebration before, because I was never old enough until this night. The younger firsties had to return to their quarters during the parties, because the superiors found the drink unhealthy for them. A maturity level, physically and mentally, was required in order to not be affected negatively. The age restriction had added extra curiosity to the whole thing - probably to an over-rated extent. It wasn't like we had to wait for much else to happen when we came of age. We didn't get to partake in common rebellious teen behaviors, like sneaking boys into our windows, sneaking out, drug exploration, having sex, breaking curfews, or even dating that guy your parents didn't approve of. Frankly we didn't have those options. Our windows were barred, the doors were locked at certain times and there was no way of getting out even if we wanted to. There were no drugs in the compounds, and when it came to dating, the pickings were rather slim. We also didn't get a chance to pass those milestones teens did in my grandmother's day, like our first dates, first dance, prom, graduation, or getting accepted to that college you had your eye on. Those opportunities were stripped away from us. So it's no wonder we put so much excitement behind these coming of age bashes. It was a chance for us to get wild, per se. Unless you were a firsty potential, it was also more or less the largest milestone you were permitted to enjoy.

I shoveled my food down unattractively as the other firsties began to line up at the leftover bins. The party would begin shortly. Falling in line, I watched the growing stacks of boxes on the far wall - which normally remained clear. Our dining area was basic. Everything was hard, I wasn't sure if it was for the simplicity, or if the superiors merely preferred it that way. The tables and chairs - metal, like most other surfaces outside of our quarters - were bolted to the concrete flooring. The tables were twenty in number each with five chairs, I had counted. There were just enough to fit every firsty the building would accommodate.

Of course we didn't have eighty firsties in our building, some firsties lived with only two or three members to each quarter, but never one. Not all were maxed out the way our quarters was, with a five member family. If a living quarter became open, it usually filled rather quickly, as had been done after my mother's parents had both passed. I was ten then, and a new family was in the quarters across the hall the next day. It would seem like a shock, to have your relative's memories wiped away so quickly with no burial, no grave, not even a chance to adjust to them not being around before someone was in their place, but that was the way things were done in the compound. The superiors weren't much for being sentimental, so they treated us as they would their own. When you die, you're burned. There was no waiting. If you wait too long, firsties came back. It was logical for the superiors to handle the threat immediately, and then fill the empty space so they could keep on bleeding firsties without missing a beat. It was very harsh, but it was my reality.

As a rule, we don't dwell on such things. Our life goes on, however pathetically.

Yet, tonight was a happy night for the firsties of compound twenty, and the proof was evident on each firsty's face as they waited in line to dump the remnants of their meals and stared longingly at the boxes against the wall. It was a sad sight now that I look back on it; all of those firsties seeking escape through the bottle.

They brought a huge cake in last, and laid it on the table I had been seated at. It looked like brown cornbread. I knew birthday cakes were supposed to have icing and candles, but we never had either. It was a sugary failure, the cakes, but the cake wasn't what the firsties were waiting for.

My eyes roamed to Hector of their own accord. He was standing toward the room at attention, but his head was turned toward me. He made no effort to hide his creepy obsession. I adjusted my dress top, just to be sure it wasn't showing him too much skin. If it were he would be sure not to miss it. He never had his eyes off of me.
After discarding our scraps, most firsties returned to their seats. Some said goodbye to their children who were too young to participate, and some others, with very you g children that couldn't be left alone, returned to their quarters.

Within only moments of being seated, a tall, slender woman entered the room. Her movement was swift and light; her trailing raven-colored hair billowing behind her. Starsky stood before us at the head of the room. She didn have to call us to order. The tense atmosphere from her arrival was enough. I even noticed that, for once, Hector had stopped staring. He was now giving the flawless Starsky his full attention. Something felt off. Was that a pang of jealousy I felt?