The House of the Scorpion (14 page)

“I want her to sit next to me,” said Matt.

The old man laughed: a dry, dusty sound. “Is she your little girlfriend, your
novia?
”

“That's disgusting,” said Mr. Alacrán.

“Is it?” El Patrón chuckled. “Matt's no different than I was at that age.”

“Matt's a clone!”

“He's
my
clone. Sit here, girl. Make room for her, Tam Lin.” Tam Lin found a place setting for María. He frowned at Matt.

“Where's Tom?” Felicia said. Everyone turned to look at her. Felicia was so quiet and so seldom seen, most people seemed to forget she existed.

“Where is Tom?” El Patrón turned to Matt.

“I put him at the baby table,” said Matt.

“You pig!” shouted María.

El Patrón laughed. “That's the stuff, Mi Vida. Get rid of your enemies when you can. I don't like Tom either, and dinner will be better without him.”

Felicia balled up her napkin in her fist, but she didn't say anything.

“I don't want to stay here! I want to be with Tom!” cried María.

“Well, you can't,” Matt said flatly. Why did she always have to stick up for him? She didn't even stop to think. There was no way Furball could have pulled the lid down on top of himself. But she didn't believe Matt because he was only a “disgusting clone.” A dull rage at the unfairness of it swept over him.

“Do as you're told, girl.” El Patrón suddenly lost interest in the drama and turned to Mr. MacGregor on his other side.

María, choking back tears, was pushed up to the table by Tam Lin. “I'll see he gets the same food as the rest of us,” he whispered.

“No, you won't,” said Matt.

Tam Lin raised his eyebrows. “Is that a direct order, Master Matt?”

“Yes.” Matt tried to ignore María's soft whimpers as she strove not to draw attention to herself. If she couldn't bring herself to punish Tom, he would do it for her. Food was brought and served. María selected bits to feed Furball and continued to stare down at her lap.

“Fetal brain implants—I must try that sometime,” said MacGregor. “It's done wonders for you.”

“Don't put it off too long,” El Patrón advised. “You have to give the doctors at least five months' lead time. Eight is better.”

“I won't be able to use—?”

“Oh, no. He's
much
too old.”

Felicia was staring down at her plate with almost as much dejection as María. She wasn't even pretending to eat. She drank from a tall glass that was regularly filled by a servant. She looked pleadingly at MacGregor, although Matt couldn't guess what she could want from him. In any case, he ignored her—and so did her husband and everyone else for that matter.

El Viejo, Mr. Alacrán's father, spilled his food and made a mess on the tablecloth. No one paid attention to him, either.

“See, there's an example of someone who didn't get his implants when he should have,” said El Patrón, pointing at El Viejo.

“Father decided against it,” said Mr. Alacrán.

“He's a fool, then. Look at him, Matt. Would you believe that's my grandson?”

Matt hadn't worked out the exact relationship between El Viejo and El Patrón before. It hadn't seemed important. El Patrón looked ancient, no doubt about it, but his mind was sharp. At least now it was. After those whatever-they-were implants. El Viejo could hardly string a sentence together, and some of the time he sat in his room and
screamed.
Celia said that happened to some old people and that Matt mustn't worry about it.

“I could believe he's your grandfather,” said Matt.

El Patrón laughed, spraying food particles over his plate. “That's what comes of not taking care of yourself.”

“Father decided implants were immoral,” said Mr. Alacrán, “and I honored his decision.” A sudden intake of breath around the table told Matt that Mr. Alacrán had said something dangerous. “He's deeply religious. He thinks God put him on earth for a certain number of years and that he mustn't ask for more.”

El Patrón stared at Mr. Alacrán for a long moment. “I'll overlook your rudeness,” he said at last. “It's my birthday and I'm in a good mood. But someday you'll be old too. Your body will start to fall apart and your brain will deteriorate. See if you're so high-minded then.” He went back to eating, and everyone relaxed.

“May I check up on Tom?” Felicia said in her uncertain way.

“Stay out of this,” growled Mr. Alacrán.

“I—I only wanted to see if he had food.”

“For God's sake! He's capable of standing on his own hind legs and finding something to eat!”

Those were Matt's sentiments too, but he was surprised at the anger Mr. Alacrán showed toward Felicia. How could
anyone get mad at her? She was so helpless. Felicia hung her head and withdrew into silence.

After dinner Tam Lin rolled El Patrón to the bougainvillea arbor for the gift giving. Mr. MacGregor excused himself because he had to rest up for an operation. Matt was glad to see him go.

El Patrón set great importance on gifts. “You can tell how much someone loves you by the size of the present,” he often told Matt. He preferred to receive gifts, rather than give them. “The flow of wealth should be from outside”—El Patrón opened his arms wide, as though he were about to hug someone—“in.” El Patrón gave himself a big bear hug instead. Matt thought this was very funny.

Daft Donald and Tam Lin brought the boxes to El Patrón. Matt read the cards and tore off the wrappers. A secretary recorded who had given what and the value of the gift. Watches, jewelry, paintings, statues, and moon rocks piled up on the lawn. Matt thought the moon rocks looked like something you could find anywhere in the Ajo Mountains, but they came with a certificate and were very expensive.

The faded princess gave El Patrón a statue of a naked baby with wings—one of the few gifts he seemed to like. Matt gave him a wallet that had looked good in the catalog and now seemed shabby next to the other presents. “You'd need a wallet as big as the Grand Canyon to hold El Patrón's paper money,” Celia had said, “and you'd have to drain the Gulf of California for the small change.”

The Farmers, one and all, gave weapons: guns that responded to one's voice, lasers that could burn an intruder to a crisp from the other side of a wall, flying minibombs that clamped themselves on to an enemy's skin. The latter were programmed to
recognize specific people. Tam Lin took the weapons away the minute Matt unwrapped them.

“Open your presents, Mi Vida,” El Patrón said after a long while. His eyes were half closed, and he looked almost bloated with all the gifts he'd received. A mountain of new possessions surrounded his wheelchair.

Matt eagerly tore open a small box from Celia. It was a hand-knitted sweater. Where she'd found the time to knit, Matt didn't know. Tam Lin gave him a book identifying edible plants in the desert. El Patrón gave him a battery-driven car big enough to sit in. It had flashing lights and a siren. Matt was too old for such things, but he knew the car had been very expensive and therefore that El Patrón loved him very much.

María snatched away the present she'd brought him. “I don't want to give you anything!” she cried.

“Give that back,” Matt said, angry that she'd made a scene in front of everyone.

“You don't deserve it!” María started to run away, but she was halted by her father, Senator Mendoza.

“Hand him the box,” said Senator Mendoza.

“He was mean to Tom!”

“Do it.”

María wavered for a moment and then flung the box as far away as she could.

“Pick it up and bring it to me,” Matt said. He was in a cold rage.

“Let her go,” said Tam Lin in a low voice, but Matt wasn't in any mood to listen. María had insulted him in front of everyone, and he intended to make her pay.

“That's the stuff,” El Patrón said gleefully. “Make your women toe the line.”

“Get it
now
,” said Matt in the same cold, deadly voice he'd heard El Patrón use on terrified servants.

“Please, María,” Senator Mendoza coaxed gently.

Sobbing, she retrieved the present and thrust it at Matt. “I hope you choke on it!”

Matt was trembling and afraid he'd lose control and start crying too. Suddenly he remembered what El Patrón had said earlier:
Is she your little girlfriend?
Why shouldn't María be his girlfriend? Why should he be different from everyone because he was a clone? When he looked into the mirror, he saw no difference between himself and the others. It was unfair that he was treated like Furball when he had good grades and could name the planets, the brightest stars, and all the constellations. “One more thing,” Matt said. “I demand a birthday kiss.”

Gasps ricocheted around the crowd. Senator Mendoza turned ashen, and he put his hands protectively on María's shoulders. “Don't do this,” murmured Tam Lin. El Patrón beamed with delight.

“It's my party too,” said Matt, “and I can have anything I want. Isn't that so,
mi patrón?
”

“It's so, my little fighting cock. Give him the kiss, girl.”

“He's a clone!” Senator Mendoza cried.

“He's
my
clone.” Suddenly El Patrón wasn't the jovial birthday host anymore. He seemed dark and dangerous, like a creature you might stumble on in the middle of the night. Matt remembered Tam Lin's words about his master:
He grew large and green until he shadowed over the whole forest, but most of his branches are twisted.
Matt was sorry he'd started this whole affair, but it was too late now.

“Do it, María,” said Senator Mendoza. “I won't let it happen again. I promise.”

The senator didn't know that María had kissed Matt on several occasions, just as she kissed Furball and anything else that pleased her. Matt knew this was different, though. He was humiliating her. If it had been Tom asking for the kiss, no one would have cared. People would have thought it cute for a boy to flirt with his
novia.

Matt wasn't a boy. He was a beast.

María came up to him, no longer angry or rebellious. She reminded him of Felicia bent sadly over her plate. For an instant he wanted to say,
Stop. It was a joke. I didn't mean it.
But it was too late. El Patrón was watching them with obvious glee, and Matt realized it might be dangerous to draw back now. Who knew how the old man might punish María if he had his fun spoiled now?

María leaned forward, and Matt felt the cold brush of her lips on his skin. Then she ran to her father and collapsed in tears. He gathered her up and shouldered his way through the crowd. The paralysis that had seized everyone broke. Everyone started talking at once—not about what had just happened, but about anything else. But Matt felt their eyes on him—accusing, disgusted, repelled.

El Patrón had wearied of the excitement. He signaled Tam Lin and Daft Donald to take him away and was already being carried up the steps before Matt noticed.

The party went on with renewed spirit now that El Patrón was gone, but no one talked to Matt. No one seemed to notice he was even there. After a while he gathered up his smaller presents, leaving the battery-driven car for the servants to attend to.

Matt made his way to Celia's apartment and laid out Celia's sweater and Tam Lin's book. Then he opened María's gift. It was a box of taffy she'd made with her own hands. He knew
because she'd told him about it ahead of time. She was no good at keeping secrets.

Matt knew María hoarded things—worn-out shirts, broken toys, and gift-wrapping paper—and she got hysterical if anything went missing. Celia said it was because she'd lost her mother when she was only five.

One day María's mother had walked out of the house and never returned. No one knew where she'd gone, or if they did, they weren't talking about it. When María was small, she imagined her mother had gotten lost in the desert. She woke up at night crying that she could hear her mother's voice, but of course she couldn't. Ever since then, Celia said, María had hung on to things. It was why she rarely let Furball out of her sight and why the dog was such a wimp.

María had cut squares from her treasured gift-wrapping paper and used them to wrap Matt's taffy. He felt terrible looking at them. Why hadn't he listened when Tam Lin told him to let her go? He closed the box and put it away.

Celia had drawn the curtains in his room. As always, she had lit the candle in front of the Virgin. The Virgin looked shabby with Her chipped robe and cheap plastic flowers, but Matt wouldn't have wanted Her to look any other way. He crawled under the covers. Feeling around, he found the lump that was his stuffed bear. He would have died rather than admit to María that he still slept with it.