The Jumbee (9 page)

A chill crawled down Esti’s spine.

“Danielle, she have live on Cariba all her life.” Lucia didn’t bother hiding her amusement. “She need more respect for the West Indian way.”

“I want to see Act Three, Scene Five,” Mr. Niles snapped, “starting the moment Romeo leaves Juliet’s bedroom. Lance will play Lord Capulet, now that Steve is gone.”

“See?” Carmen crowed softly.

The sound of shuffling paper filled the theater, Lance studying his script more frantically than the others. As Danielle led the way, Esti followed Carmen toward the stage, wondering if her life could become any more surreal.

“You’re the one in control, Esti,” a deep voice murmured. “No one else.”

She stopped in shock, halfway up the first step. Alan sounded like he was right beside her, whispering her dad’s famous mantra into her ear.

“If you believe you’re in control,” he added, “people will believe you.”

It took every ounce of control she had to keep from spinning around to see if anyone else had heard him.

“Esti,” Mr. Niles said. “We’re waiting for you.”

Esti forced her legs to move, raising one knee, then the other, until she reached the level of the stage. Her eyes searched the steps as she climbed. Alan wouldn’t do this to her, she thought, if she didn’t already know he had hiding places. He obviously had the theater rigged so she could hear his voice. But why did no one else notice anything?

Her shivering grew stronger.

“Let your emotions build,” Alan said softly as she crossed the stage. “Work up the confusion and the anger. Use that frustration you’ve stored for so long. And stop walking before you come so close that the others might hear me.”

She came to an abrupt halt ten feet away from Danielle, relief sweeping over her in huge waves at his warning. If there was a chance that others could hear him, then maybe Esti wasn’t going insane.

“Look at Juliet,” Alan whispered. “Does she look smug? Think about Lady Capulet’s purpose now, as you show Niles some
real
acting.”

“Esti,” Mr. Niles said in growing annoyance, “do you know your lines?”

“Ho, daughter! are you up?” she forced out.

“Who is it that calls?” Danielle replied. “Is it my lady mother?”

“Let Shakespeare’s words use your voice to become real.” Alan’s whisper wove seamlessly through Danielle’s response.

“Why, how now, Juliet!” The words burst from Esti’s mouth.

“That’s good.” Alan’s compliment sent goose bumps up her arms. “I see your confusion. Once again, you are creating Lady Capulet’s reality.”

Whose reality? she wondered wildly. Not just Alan’s voice, but his dead-on perfect advice following her through thin air across the stage. As the scene progressed with Juliet, then with Nurse and Lord Capulet, Esti felt herself getting worked up in a way very different from this afternoon. Confusion about Alan, anger at Danielle and Steve, agitation and bewilderment at herself as she tumbled headlong through the scene, dragged along by Lady Capulet’s lines.

By the time Lance haltingly finished his new role, demolishing Juliet as convincingly as he could, emotions crashed through Esti’s mind and body like a fierce, cascading waterfall. Fury and confusion filled her, leaving room for nothing else as she spat her final words at Danielle. “Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.”

Raising her chin, Esti strode from the stage and flung herself into a seat at the edge of the third row, as far as possible from the others.

“O God!” Danielle flung herself to the floor with a wavering cry. “O Nurse! how shall this be prevented?”

“You’ve rattled her.” Alan’s voice tickled Esti’s ear again. “She will never play an audience the way you can.”

Esti shivered and spun around, searching the theater with her eyes. She sat alone beside the coral-studded wall of the building, but Alan’s voice still seemed as close as it had been onstage. A speaker in the wall or the seat, perhaps?

“What sayst thou?” Danielle shrilly begged Carmen forward. “Some comfort, Nurse?”

Esti looked up to see Mr. Niles staring back at her from beside the stage. His face reflected a mixture of uncertainty and admiration. Esti met his eyes, unable to hold back her own astonished smile.

After rehearsal, she listened to Carmen’s excited chatter as they walked outside together.

“That was good,” Carmen said. “I mean,
really
good. Wow, Esti. I always thought of Lady Capulet as kind of a non
-
character. Boy, was I wrong.”

“Thank you.” Esti hoped her expression didn’t look as foolish as it felt, as her memory replayed Alan’s glowing words.

“Nice job, Leg-guard,” Greg said, Danielle pausing beside him. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say more, then he actually smiled instead of the usual wink. He turned and walked away, his arm around Danielle’s shoulders.

“Lady Capulet is one mean mother,” another voice said from behind them. “No wonder she married Lord Capulet.”

Esti couldn’t help laughing in surprise. “Thanks, Lance.”

“You scared the hell out of him, Esti,” Chaz teased, ducking to avoid Lance’s fist. “It was supposed to be the other way around.”

“Ooh, do you wish it was you?” Carmen said to Chaz. “Don’t tell me you like girls who intimidate you? Can I try?”

“Peace, you mumbling fool.” Chaz grinned at her. “Hold your tongue.”

Carmen stuck out her tongue at him, shrieking when he reached up to grab it.

“Careful, or I’ll hold it for you.” He abruptly glanced around at a honk from one of the cars in the parking lot. “My own mean mother is waiting. Come on, Lance. Carmen, I’ll see you later.”

Esti watched them sprint away. “I think Chaz has a crush on you.”

“Maybe he’ll finally admit it.” Carmen’s eyes gleamed. “Especially if Danielle’s stranglehold is crumbling.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. Steve is gone; check. Greg’s got his eye on you; check. Juliet was totally outperformed by her mama; big check. Go, Jane Doe, go.” Carmen laughed as they reached the edge of the parking lot. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Esti replied in bemusement.

Leaning against a palm tree, she looked out at the sea and waited as the last cast members trailed out of the building, laughing and talking. Manchineel Cay had become a delicate silhouette in black, surrounded by a ring of pale sand and silver glints of moonlight on the water. Esti stretched her arms over her head, tingling with anticipation. A fragrant breeze whispered across the courtyard, as sweet as the flower Alan had given her last week.

“Esti.”

She spun around at Lucia’s voice.

“I thought you had maybe sneak back to the theater.” Lucia flashed a rare smile.

Esti studied her, unsure how to respond

“You come to my house soon,” Lucia said.

“Why?” Esti demanded, then immediately softened her tone. “I mean, of course I would love that.” She smiled, even though this seemed more like a command than a casual invitation.

“We go on the boat.” Lucia handed Esti a scrap of paper with a carefully drawn map. “This show you to find my house. Ma, she want to meet you.”

“Why does your mom want to meet me?”

“You gon find out.” With a piercing look, Lucia turned and walked away

Act One. Scene Seven.

Despite her eagerness, Esti found herself hesitating at the main door of the theater after everyone finally left. “Are you here?” she tried softly when she reached the stage. Her fingers twitched nervously, and she hoped Alan hadn’t spooked himself away after rehearsal.

Please,
she thought,
I need to know who you are. Please be waiting for me in the basement.
Reaching for the backstage curtain, her fingers instantly found the heavy cloth in the darkness. Without dwelling on what she was actually doing—Aurora would kill her, if she knew—Esti hurried through the pitch-black corridor.

“You were wonderful.” Alan’s voice filled the tiny room as she sat down.

She hoped her sigh of relief didn’t sound as explosive as it felt. “No,
you
were.”

“They all loved Lady Capulet.”

“Because of your help.” Esti hesitated again, her heart pounding. “Are you going to tell me how I heard you, when no one else could?”

After a predictable silence, she finally heard his soft, indrawn breath. “I probably owe you an explanation.” He sounded subdued.

“You don’t . . .” Esti trailed off. “You don’t owe me anything. But I would like to know.”

“Have you studied the old sugar mills in your history class?”

His stiff question startled her. “Not yet. I’m supposed to research them for a term paper, though.”

“Not too many plantations had sugar factories with two levels, but Manchicay did. Slaves in the stifling cellar fed bonfires for the boiling cane juice above.”

She leaned back, wondering if this was supposed to be her answer.

“When the place was renovated into a school,” Alan continued, “they made the main factory structurally sound, then sealed off the lower level for safety purposes and money.”

“This theater?” A swarm of emotions buzzed through her body, like restless bees.

“Yes. The basement has too many low ceilings and corridors that would have cost a fortune to enlarge. The main floor also has several long ventilation chambers, which Niles either dismissed or never knew about.” Alan’s voice became slightly more relaxed. “I’m sure you’ve realized that these spaces are essential for what I do.”

“And what do you do?” Esti held her breath.

“I’m trying to help Rodney Solomon root out the best talent at Manchicay.”

“You work for Rodney?” Her relief almost paralyzed her. That simple bit of knowledge was almost as comforting as turning on a light.

“You will attract plenty of interest during the Christmas performance this semester, Esti, and it won’t merely be because of your name.” As Alan’s voice came close to her, she felt an unexpected flicker of warmth from his breath. To her amazement he smelled warm and nice, like an island flower blooming in full sunlight. She couldn’t move, stunned by the heat spreading through her body, but he drifted away again as if unaware of his effect on her.

“It is essential that I be hidden from prying eyes and foolish questions.”

“Of . . . of course,” Esti stammered, flustered by his formality and his nearness.

“And you inspire me, Esti,” Alan continued. “I’m amazed at how rude most people are, with no idea what it’s like to
work
for something, to truly suffer. Yet you gracefully ignore Danielle and her clique each day at school. You’ve shunned the status of your father’s name, nourishing instead your friendship with a talented nobody like Carmen.”

His voice became soft. “You accept unusual . . . conditions . . . that most people would find disturbing.”

“I love working with you,” Esti said uncomfortably, wondering if he truly believed that her motivations were so selfless. “I’m not sure I deserve all that, but thank you. You—you seem to have some suffering in your past.”

“Certain things are better left unknown.” The words came out in a harsh whisper. “Ignorance is bliss, in the true island way.”

“What is the island way?” she asked, half reaching into the empty darkness to comfort him.

“The simple life.” His voice abruptly grew rich and mocking. “The seductive dream that brings people to Cariba, then sends them packing a few months later, tails between their legs.”

Esti sat back, dazed by his roller-coaster emotions.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said crisply. “Why are you here?”

“At Manchicay School, you mean? Or here in the basement?”

He chuckled. “
Touché.
With your talent and your name, you could have anything you want. Why did you choose a haven for shiny scouts wanting a paid vacation in the tropics?”

“That’s harsh,” Esti said. “I thought you were Rodney’s friend.”

“Forgive me.” Alan sounded contrite. “Yes, Rodney Solomon is building Manchicay into a premier acting school to showcase the best young—if already wealthy—talent. If he wants to give scholarships to those without money, his success depends on launching his discoveries into the real world.” His voice grew cynical. “I have no problem with that, but Mr. Niles tries my patience.”

Esti couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, he tries my patience too.”

“Back to my question.” Alan now sounded amused. “What brought you here?”

“Rodney Solomon, at least partly.” Esti shrugged. “After my dad died, Aurora and I thought it would be nice to go somewhere new. My dad had told us about Manchicay School, of course.”

“What did your father tell you about Manchicay School?” Alan asked sharply.

Esti raised her eyebrows at his tone. “That it was a haven for shiny scouts wanting a paid vacation in the tropics.”

“I deserved that.” He chuckled. “Somehow, you can always make me laugh. How would you like to work on comedy? It might be interesting to try the part of Rosalind.”

“As You Like It.”
Esti felt like leaping into the air. “I love Rosalind!”

“I thought you might.” He laughed again. “Her strength has always reminded me of you. I would like playing Orlando to your Rosalind.”

Esti savored the delicious sound of his laughter. If she could keep Alan laughing, maybe he would reveal more about himself. “
I
would like playing Juliet to your Romeo,” she said coyly. “Nurse said that you’re an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome—”

“Stop.”

In the silence following his barked interruption, Esti barely discerned his breathing, harsh and controlled, like a wounded boy searching for strength. She felt a sudden overwhelming need to see his face—his expressions—so that she might know what he was thinking.

Her heart thudded painfully. “I want to see you, Alan.”