Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) by Emily Kazmierski (ereader iphone txt) 📕

if it’s because he simply didn’t want to be there, or if there was some work at the farm that needed doing.

I pull my knees up to my chest. The prematurely dark sky, courtesy of gray clouds heavy with rain, mimics my mood.

Tonight is opening night of The Mousetrap, and I won’t be there. It’s the first time I have ever missed an opening night, but Esau doesn’t want me there. If he did, he would have asked. So instead of bundling up and leaving when my sister and Agent Biel, er, Karen, did, I watched them drive away from the shelter of the front window.

My fingers itch for something to do, but I’m done with my schoolwork and I am not taking Karen up on her idea to clean all of the fast food containers out of the fridge. Stinky leftover mushroom chicken? No thanks.

My phone buzzes and I glance down at it, chin resting on one knee.

It’s a message from Fiona. The show starts in half an hour and Esau’s a no-show.

They need me.

I’m throwing on a raincoat and Karen’s black rubber boots before I have a chance to think. I’m not going to miss opening night for anything.

The heavens wait until I’m halfway between the old house and the school before opening their floodgates and dousing me with rain. Even being soaked to the bones can’t dampen my smile.

The roar of the crowd is thunderous as the curtain falls. The show went off perfectly, and I have a fantastic cast and crew to thank for it. It helped that they were used to me giving suggestions (and arguing with Esau), so when I showed up fifteen minutes before curtain looking like a drowned rat, they took it in stride.

Marisa hugged me despite already being in costume. Fiona and Dariel asked me to mediate a lighting dispute (Fiona was totally right). And I stood in Esau’s usual spot to one side as the show began. By the time the curtain went up, I was soaked in rain and a thin sheen of cold sweat. I had never felt more alive.

Being on stage is nothing like the rush of directing a show. It’s so much better.

No wonder Esau didn’t want me anywhere near this place. One taste of power and I want more. I tried texting him before it began, but he didn’t answer.

Director or not, the show had to go on. Marisa and the rest of the cast absolutely killed it. As evidenced by the hoots and whistles coming from the audience.

The cast goes through their practiced show wrap-up, bowing in order, before Marisa grabs the microphone. It’s my cue to leave, and I’m about to do exactly that when our leading lady says, “Not so fast, Director Thomas. Everyone, please welcome Taryn Thomas to the stage.”

I shake my head vehemently, hissing, “I’m not going out there.”

“Yes you are,” Viv says, pushing me out of the shadows and under the bright stage lights.

The crowd starts clapping again. Audrey and Karen beam up at me from third row center.

“Give Taryn a hand,” Marisa says, grinning. “Our original director couldn’t be here tonight, so this lady here stepped in and made sure The Mousetrap went fantastically. Taryn, you’re the best. You started this semester as the new kid, but now you’re so much more. A fabulous director, and a great friend. Thanks, girl.”

She hands me the microphone and steps back. I stand in surprise for a second, basking in the limelight for the first time in what feels like aeons. A surge of joy at the adoration of the crowd, the power I wielded tonight, flutters over my skin. Maybe it was a good thing Esau wasn’t here, so I could find my own directorial bent. I know exactly what to say.

“Marisa is right. I started this semester as just the new girl. I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t have a place here at Valley High. But over the past few months, I’ve found my niche. Here with the drama crew. I’ve learned so much about lighting and costuming and blocking and team management. It’s been kind of a whirlwind. A wild, stressful one.

The truth is, I never could have done any of it without the help of our director, Esau Chavez. This play you saw tonight was his vision, and I was honored to step in and make it happen since he couldn’t be here. Esau is a lot of things: demanding, exacting, detail oriented. He had a picture in his head for how this play would look, and it turned out amazing. Even more amazing, over the weeks, Esau took the time to listen to his cast and crew. When they had ideas, he considered their merit instead of simply shutting people down. He got more out of us than any of us expected, including me. He did it with grace, even when I argued with him about pretty much everything. We couldn’t have pulled off this show without him. Let’s hear it for Esau!”

The crowd bursts into another round of applause along with the cast. Handing the microphone back to Marisa, I jog toward the side. And stop.

A tingling sensation skitters along my nape, making me shade my eyes to scan the crowd. Someone is watching me. I know that’s stupid to say when there are in fact several hundred people watching me, but I can feel it.

There.

Leaning against the back wall, almost completely hidden by the shadows, is Esau. Even from so far away, we lock eyes. When I point to the exit, he nods. He’ll meet me outside.

Esau is already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest when I exit the back of the theater. His neck is craned, and he’s watching the moon and stars as they peek out from behind a tear in the clouds. Black hair winds down his chest as it rises and falls in several deep breaths.

I take the spot next to