The Jumbee (7 page)

“And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget—” He abruptly broke off.

Esti was glad he couldn’t see the blush heating her face in the darkness. “It helps,” she said rapidly, “talking to someone who understands.”

“Yes, it does.”

The pause that settled between them held a raw comfort. Esti yearned to nestle in it, to deepen her ties to this mysterious Romeo.

Alan spoke again before she could ask, his voice growing formal. “Might you be interested in occasionally getting together after rehearsals? Perhaps early next week?”

“Of course.” She shoved down a flash of joy, forcing herself to sound casual. “I would love that.”

“I would, also.” His quiet words betrayed a happiness so like her own that Esti couldn’t stop herself.

“Please,” she said, reaching out in the darkness. “Tell me you aren’t just a voice.”

“Parting is such sweet sorrow.” His words fell through the humid air with a painful thud, and she suddenly knew he was gone.

“Alan, wait!” She pressed her trembling fingers together to keep them steady. Only silence wafted across the stage in reply, Alan’s strange presence as fleeting as a tropical breeze.

Act One. Scene Five.

“The Caribbean has always been a difficult part of the world.”

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.

“Leg-guard, c’mere.”

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.”