Esti wrote as fast as she could, trying to keep up with the history teacher’s brisk voice while she tuned out Steve’s low chatter. She couldn’t concentrate after last night, and seeing Danielle from the corner of her eye did nothing to calm her nerves.

“Despite the ferocity and cannibalism of the native Caribs, they were destroyed by Spanish explorers,” Miss Rupert continued. “After Denmark conquered the island, Cariba became a patchwork of sugarcane fields worked by African slaves. The slaves had to provide their own food, often eating raw crabs or lizards for protein.”

“Wherefore art thou, raw crab?” Steve’s voice whispered.

Esti tightened her jaw.

“Slave ships brought nearly ten million of my ancestors to the West Indies. Most of them died a brutal death on the sugar plantations.” Miss Rupert’s dark eyes flicked around the room. “Do you think that’s funny, Mr. Jackson?”

“No, it’s horrible.” Steve straightened so quickly that his pen clattered to the floor.

Danielle choked back a snicker.

With a deep sigh, Miss Rupert glanced at her watch. “Who can tell me about Elon Somand?”

“He was the last owner of Manchicay Plantation before it was abandoned,” Greg said. “His own slaves killed him on the day slavery was abolished.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Steve chimed in. “He was barely older than we are, yet he brutally murdered most of his slaves before they finally took him down. The infamous Manchicay Massacre. Horrible, I tell you. Horrible.”

“His jumbee lives on Manchineel Cay.” Greg glanced at Esti in amusement. “That’s where those weird drumbeats come from, and the eerie screams in the middle of the night.”

Esti was certain she had never heard drumbeats from Manchineel Cay. Maybe an occasional odd whisper in the wind, but screams?

“Yes,” Danielle broke in, “and I’ve heard he’s haunting the theater building now.” She smiled at Esti. “He has a very, um . . . compelling voice.”

Esti forced herself to smile back as the bell rang, praying the others didn’t know anything beyond Steve’s stupid taunting. Perhaps after Esti had practiced with Alan for a few weeks, Danielle would have an actual reason to feel threatened. If Alan showed up again. Forcing the doubts from her mind, Esti shoved her notebook into her backpack and rose to her feet along with the rest of the class.

“Is that why Manchineel Cay’s beaches are covered in warning signs?” Steve asked as he followed Greg and Danielle out of the classroom. “I’ve been wondering ever since I got here.”

“That’s right,” Danielle’s voice answered briskly from outside. “No one has ever lived on Manchineel Cay. Set foot on the island, and you’re never seen again.”

“Why doesn’t the jandam go out there and do something?”

Danielle laughed. “Are you kidding? The jandam won’t touch anything having to do with jumbees.”

“And here we have Miss Talks-to-Jumbees herself,” Steve announced.

Esti braced herself as she stepped outside. To her surprise, however, Steve was walking beside Lucia Harris, matching her skinny, long-legged stride with an exaggerated gait of his own.

“Leave her alone,” Esti snapped without thinking. “She’s a freshman.” She stopped beside Lucia, her head throbbing at the sneer on Steve’s face. For a moment she and Lucia stood side by side, staring at him.

“Ooh,” he finally said, “jumbee girls stick together, huh?”

Esti had no idea how to answer, and beside her, Lucia remained silent. When Steve finally rolled his eyes, Esti forced herself away, feeling her classmates’ eyes boring into the back of her tank top. Lucia immediately fell into step beside her.

“Steve he is a pot head,” Lucia said quietly. “And Danielle a spoil bitch.”

Esti let out a soft burst of laughter. Although she’d noticed Lucia in the wings each night at rehearsal, everyone usually forgot about her. She rarely spoke to anyone as she studied the script and sketched out designs for the sets.

Esti wasn’t sure what to say, but after a moment she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I took the part of Lady Capulet away from you. I know you wanted—I mean, Carmen told me you wanted it.”

Lucia shrugged. “You had try a good Juliet. ’Tis not you fault when Mr. Niles do a favor for he friend them.” The tone of her voice told Esti that they both must accept the inevitable.

“Uh . . .Thank you.” Esti watched Lucia from the corner of her eye as they silently walked to the parking lot. A single dreadlock escaped from the neck of the blue denim head-wrap that matched her baggy jeans. She was already taller than Esti, with the skinny awkwardness Esti remembered from her own freshman year. Yet, somehow Lucia almost seemed older than most seniors. Before Esti could figure out what else to say, she heard her mom’s voice.

“Esti!” Aurora waved from the car.

Lucia walked away as if she and Esti had never spoken, climbing into the back of a rusty blue pickup without looking around. Frowning uncertainly, Esti watched the truck drive away.

Her frown deepened as she sprinted across the parking lot toward her mom. She always walked home, so her mom had no reason to be here. As Esti drew closer to the car, she skidded to a stop. “Aurora,” she gasped, “are you okay?”

The sedan’s right front was deeply dented, its crumpled bumper pressing against the partially buckled hood.

“I’m fine.” Her mom gave her a wry look. “I forgot to drive on the left side of the road, coming home from my interview. Fortunately, the car still runs.”

Whistling softly, Esti studied the damage. “Did someone hit you?”

“Head-on with a safari cab. I didn’t swerve fast enough. The cops acted like I killed someone, even though the taxi barely got a scratch. I was only going about five miles an hour when we hit. But I need to get some groceries, so I thought I might as well pick you up.”

Esti got into the passenger side, studying her mom in concern. “What about the job?”

“They didn’t hire me.” Aurora pulled out of the parking lot, carefully keeping left.

Esti looked out the window, hiding her concern. All Aurora talked about lately was finding something to get herself out of the house, but it had taken days for her to work up the motivation to get this job interview. “Do you have any other interviews coming up?”

“I don’t really want to work in a tourist shop,” Aurora said flatly. “It’s not like we need the money; I just need a life.”

At the bottom of the hill, she turned into a one-way street lined with restaurants and shops. Smoke wafted along the street, filling the air with the scent of barbeque as a group of laughing tourists stumbled out of a restaurant carrying drinks.

“Maybe I’ll try my hand at waitressing,” she said. “I know you had a good time at practice last night. How was school for you today?”

“History is good,” Esti said, watching a rooster strut across the road in front of them. The cocky bird reminded her of Steve. “Some of the kids are jerks, but I like Miss Rupert.” She had felt so much better after talking to Alan last night that she hadn’t told her mom she was spending most of her time in rehearsals twiddling her thumbs. Esti didn’t want Aurora worrying about something she had no control over, like a disappointing theater teacher.

Or—Esti suppressed a wave of anticipation—a secret new friend.

“I’ll bet local history is interesting.” Aurora’s earring caught the sunlight as she glanced at Esti. “It might be fun for me to see your rehearsals now and then, if it’s not an intrusion.”

“You never intrude.” Despite her words, Esti’s fingers tightened around the seat belt. “Uh, the problem is that Mr. Niles isn’t working on any of my scenes right now.”

“Later in the semester, then.” Aurora almost sounded relieved that the pressure was off. “Or I can just wait for the Christmas show. Let me know, okay? I’m a little worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Things at school are great.” Esti leaned back into her seat, contemplating her own relief mixed with guilt. What was she supposed to tell her borderline-depressed mom anyway? Don’t worry about me. Starting next Monday, I’ll be spending my extra time alone with an awesome guy I’ve never seen. Apparently in the dark.

Esti heaved her backpack over her sweaty shoulder, ignoring Greg as she walked toward the theater building. It had been less than a week since Alan promised he would practice with her this evening, but it seemed like years ago. It was all she could think about.

“What’s the rush?” He stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

“Niles is looking for you.” Danielle came around from behind, twining her arm through Greg’s. “You’re busted for missing rehearsal on Friday without permission.”

Esti shrugged and kept walking. Carmen had left school early last Friday to spend a long weekend with her family in Puerto Rico, and Esti had decided she couldn’t face the others by herself at rehearsal, even if Alan was watching from somewhere in the wings. Instead, she had gone down to the beach that evening, longing for her dad’s advice as she paced back and forth in the warm October breeze.

She’d stared out at the dark sea with aching eyes, almost hearing a wail in the trade winds to match her mood. The Great Legard had been a prodigy at eighteen, studying and touring with the Royal Shakespeare Company on a full scholarship. Had he ever been picked on?

He had seemed so impervious, she thought enviously. He could brush off any irritation, any distraction—like swatting at a fly—without losing control. When he was home, he would get up long before the sun, checking his detailed calendar and making phone calls all over the world, before pulling out his latest script and getting to work. Esti would creep into his office, still in her pajamas, to huddle on his leather couch and do her homework while she watched him.

As long as she stayed quiet and didn’t bother him, he would let her stay until Aurora came in to insist on breakfast. During the weeks and months that he traveled, Esti would use his office as her own, reading his books and counting off the days until he returned. Even after she started pretending she no longer cared, she would often fall asleep on his couch when he was gone.

She sighed.

If he were here on Cariba, she knew he wouldn’t jump in and rescue her. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he would insist that she come up with her own method to overcome Danielle and ignore Steve. You’re the one in control, Esti, not me.

But would he understand how difficult that was for other people? He was so good at becoming any character he read in a script, but had he ever really been able to put himself in the shoes of another real, live human?

Shaking her head, Esti walked into the theater, preparing to face Mr. Niles. With a sigh, she glanced through the open door of his empty office, then walked down to the brightly lit stage to wait. Although rehearsal didn’t start for another hour, she knew he would show up before the rest of the cast got here. She wanted to get his lecture over with, hopefully alone.

“Esti.”

She gasped, then quickly twisted around to study the bright stage. Peering into the wings, she sat back with a wry smile. “Okay, where are you?”

“On the stage, of course,” Alan said in amusement, his voice practically on top of her.

“How do you do that?”

He chuckled. “Does it bother you?”

She closed her eyes, letting his delicious, subtle accent wash over her. “Not at all. But what if Mr. Niles walks in?”

“Precisely what I was thinking.” He hesitated. “Are you still sure you wish to . . .”

“To work with you? Absolutely.” She raised her chin. “I couldn’t even face rehearsal on Friday night.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I’m aware of that. And you truly don’t mind the darkness?”

Esti opened her eyes again to look around the stage. “Does it matter? You seem pretty good at hiding, even with the lights on.”

When he didn’t answer, she managed a half-teasing smile. “I’m used to working in the dark.”

“Please walk to the back of the stage,” he said. “Quickly, before Niles returns. There’s a small door hidden behind the stage curtain.”

“A secret room?” She almost clapped in delight.

“I’ll probably regret this,” he said faintly. “But I can’t seem to help myself.”

As Esti followed Alan’s voice through a pitch-black passage a moment later, she hoped she wouldn’t end up regretting it. She thought she heard the faint beat of footsteps as she followed his voice down a tiny hallway, and she suddenly, desperately, wanted to see him.

Determinedly trailing her fingers along the wall, she closed her eyes and created the role of a blind girl falling in love with an exotic, brilliant boy. The girl refused to fear this stranger, and since she would never see his face, she could invent anything she wanted. With his intelligence and sophisticated voice, he had to be descended from European nobility, or British aristocracy. Very good-looking, of course, with blue eyes and a thoughtful, crooked smile she would die for. She suppressed a giggle, and by the time they reached a dark room at the bottom of a steep staircase, she’d worked herself into a giddy sense of anticipation.

She carefully eased herself onto a wooden chair, reaching into the darkness with a smile. “Will you let me see you now?”

“No,” he said. “And you won’t try to look for me either.”

Taken aback, she let her hand drop.

“If you’re afraid of me,” he added stiffly, “I’ll take you back upstairs.”

“I’m not afraid.” Despite her frustration, she managed to keep her voice calm. “Am I going to work on Lady Capulet or what?”

“Yes, let’s do that.” Alan seemed to relax. “Think of a feeling you can summon at will; something you can sustain onstage. An intense memory is best. Perhaps a painful or frustrating moment with your father?”

An unexpected ache squeezed her heart like a giant fist. Alan couldn’t possibly know about Esti’s deep frustration with her dad; she’d never talked about it with anyone, not even Aurora. She wondered if she could somehow put the complex confusion of her father’s death into the shallow Lady Capulet.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Alan said. “Quick—don’t analyze it, just tell me.”

“Sadness and confusion.” She closed her eyes. “Panic. Anger.”

“Show me. You are now Lady Capulet. ‘I swear it shall be Romeo,’ Juliet says to her mother, ‘whom you know I hate, rather than Paris.’”

Esti rubbed her temples. “Here comes your father,” she said to Juliet, picturing Lord Capulet entering the bedchamber. “Tell him so yourself, and see how he will take it at your hands.”

“When the sun sets,” Alan began in a commanding voice.

As Lord Capulet began chastising Juliet, every inch the controlling patriarch, Esti found herself back in Oregon. When she had played The Great Legard’s daughter on television, she’d been reduced to literal tears by Lord Capulet as he raked Juliet over the coals. Her dad had made it so real, so devastating. He had controlled every aspect of the scene, playing her emotions like he owned them.

“How now, wife!” Alan said haughtily. “Have you deliver’d to her our decree?”

“Ay, sir,” Esti replied, shaken by her memories. “But she will none, she gives you thanks. I would the fool were married to her grave.”

She felt herself shrinking from Alan as his voice filled the room again, his righteous wrath growing stronger with every word of Lord Capulet’s monologue.

“Go with Paris to Saint Peter’s church,” he finally raged, “or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage, you tallow face!”

Her stomach churned at his hateful words. “Fie, fie,” Lady Capulet cried. “What, are you mad?”

“Hang thee, young baggage,” he said to Juliet. “Disobedient wretch!”

Lady Capulet listened to her husband, appalled and confused by her own chaotic thoughts. Maybe they were wrong to judge their daughter so strictly? Didn’t he realize she had her own life to live, away from her father’s ironclad control? Control, The Great Legard had said, is nothing more than attitude. If you believe you’re in control, then people will believe you. He controlled everything, even his own daughter’s identity. When she wasn’t reflected in the mirror of his vast presence, she became invisible.

Esti had pushed her father away after that performance, avoiding his award ceremonies and his parties, dropping her friends when they dared compare her to him. She knew it hurt him, but how could she tell him that he was just too good? Even at the end, when he breathed through his tubes and clutched her hand, she’d been too intimidated to tell him the truth. A coward, that’s all his daughter was. A coward who didn’t deserve what she’d been given.

“Talk not to me,” she spat at Juliet, “for I’ll not speak a word. Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.”

“Incredible,” Alan said. “You did it.”

Stunned, Esti took a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“You’re shaking, aren’t you?” His voice touched her soul like a gentle hand.

Esti felt the rage and confusion drain out of her as if Alan had pulled a plug. “Ouch,” she whispered. “That hurt.” The words sounded ridiculous as soon as she said them.

“Acting is not supposed to be easy.” To her relief, Alan’s reply held only respect. “And that’s why very few people are good at it.”

She leaned against the rough wooden table in front of her, cool in the humid darkness of the basement. “You’re good at it.”

Silence followed her words, slowly replaced by singing voices drifting through the air in lilting harmony. The utter absurdity of listening to an ancient madrigal in a spooky old basement after a mind-blowing rehearsal in the dark made her smile. Especially because it felt . . . right. “Where’s the music coming from?” she asked.

“My iPod,” Alan said dryly. “Did you think it was magic?”

“You’re crazy.” Esti laughed and closed her eyes. “Or I’ve gone over the edge.”

“Maybe we both have.”

They listened to the cheerful music in silence for a few minutes, then Esti smiled again. “This is perfect.”

“Yes,” he said in contentment.

She opened her mouth to ask if she could please see him—please, for just a single minute?—but he suddenly inhaled sharply.

“Niles is back,” he said.

“That figures.” Esti tried to hide her disappointment. “How do you know?”

“I always know.” He sighed. “I’ll show you a different way out, but first I have something for you.”

Squinting at the brightness outside a few minutes later, Esti let the back door swing shut behind her. Clutching a small package, she made her way up the hill through a tangled path in the wild tamarind, as Alan had described to her. She couldn’t see the back door at all from here, and she raised her eyebrows. Even though it was perfectly camouflaged, she wasn’t sure she believed that no one knew about it but him.

She stealthily emerged from behind the building, checking to make sure she was alone. Suppressing a smile, she half skipped across the round courtyard before sinking down on the stone bench to look out over the water.

From here, she saw no warning signs on Manchineel Cay. The island was beautiful, with its picturesque cliff rising from silky white beaches. A dark rain column drifted along the water beyond the cay, its edge sharply outlined in silver where the rain hit the sea. Thick white clouds piled up around it, fluffy and stunning against the blue sky. Esti had never seen a place less likely to be haunted.

Her eyes wide in anticipation, she opened Alan’s gift. A local specialty called roti, he had explained when her fingers found it on the dark table. With a growing smile, she studied the unexpected dinner. A curry smell wafted up from tortilla-wrapped chicken, and a flower lay to one side, sweetly fragrant even over the curry.

A perfect white flower.

Esti let her eyes trace the blossom, enveloped in its warm scent as she touched her fingertip to a velvety petal. She already knew she was totally falling for Alan, despite his odd quirks. Could he possibly feel the same way about her?

She felt a tremble growing inside of her. Lady Capulet might actually steal the show for a few moments; Esti now knew it was possible. Starting with the Christmas performance, she might finally face the critics on her terms. Esti Legard, creating her own legacy at Manchicay School, without her father. Accompanied by her . . . her boyfriend instead. It wasn’t an impossible idea. He’d told her he wouldn’t be back until next Monday, though, and she didn’t know how she could wait another endless week before she talked to him again.

For the first time, she allowed herself to imagine the feel of his fingers on hers, his lips touching her face. Her smile grew dreamy as she leaned back to eat her roti, savoring the blossom’s sweet fragrance, the taste of curry, and a soft, moaning whisper beneath the breeze brushing her skin.