THE ASTER ESTATE WAS HAUNTED.
The Victorian mansion, dark and looming with spidery trees, resembled a horror movie set. Although welcoming in daylight with manicured lawns and pristine flowers, Jackie dreaded what spirits lurked behind its towering stone walls. The labyrinthine interior consisted of eerie corridors and excessive vacant rooms. It was plagued with an everlasting chill that buried deep within the stone, impossible to chase away with lit fireplaces or a modern heating system.
Of course, no one would believe her suspicions about ghosts. Not her mother, Mr. Aster, and especially not her new stepsister Madison. As luck would have it, Madison was one of those perfect girls who had everything together. Each time Jackie stood next to her, she was painfully aware of how her hair didn't lie the same way or how her grades weren't as high or whatever else she wanted to compare herself with. They couldn't be more different if they tried. If the two had anything in common, it was that neither expected their parents' relationship to last.
Their parents met on one fateful day when Mr. Aster entered the All in Bloom flower shop, and a connection sparked. Jackie had thought the relationship would end soon. A wealthy businessman and a working-class single mother? Not a recipe for success.
However, her mother's life mirrored a romantic kdrama where the aristocratic gentleman from a powerful family fell for the woman from a poor background. Weeks turned into months, months into years, and soon enough, Jackie and her mother moved out of their tiny apartment and into the Aster mansion. And that came with a snobbish stepsister who unfortunately happened to be in the grade above her.
Alas, the three months of summer had not been enough for Jackie to adjust to her new lifestyle. Even worse, she would attend a new school—Westminster Academy, a prestigious private institution for the wealthy. She'd be lying if she wasn't at least a tad jealous of her mother. Where was her own romantic moment?
As everyone knew, teen romance stories tended to have two main types of characters:
1) shy, awkward girl
2) idealized popular guy
Some had a so-called plot twist which was accompanied by a third type:
3) introverted snarky nerd
Anyone well-versed in the genre knew #2 turned out to be a romantic false lead. The girl would understand her affection for him was mere infatuation and end up with #3. Thus, she'd experience the highs and lows presented in Taylor Swift love songs and find happiness with a cheesy ending.
So where was Jackie's happily ever after? In movies, the kooky but lovable heroine ran into the gentleman who would sweep her off her feet. She hadn't found a popular prince or the snarky nerd. In all the days she worked behind the desk of her mother's flower shop, not one devastatingly handsome boy walked through the doors. Astonishing how unfair life could be.
But never fear, for Jackie found solace in her new school's heralded drama department, which often won accolades and news features. At least she could live out her dramatic fantasies onstage.
Since auditions were scheduled the day before school started, she spent the entire break practicing. Although Jackie memorized every line until it came as easy as breathing, nothing could've prepared her for the shock of her arrival. Despite the excessive pep talks she'd given herself earlier, she floundered like a fish out of water.
Gleaming steps led to an elaborate marble archway which denoted the main entrance. She'd seen photos of the school before, but nothing could replicate standing before it in person. Steadying her shaking hands, the girl closed her eyes and counted to eight. Eight was lucky—or so Jackie's father had always claimed. When her time expired, she exhaled a low breath and pushed open the double doors.
Needless to say, the interior was no less opulent than the outside. The walls were painted a pristine white to match the glossy tiles. Framed by curved archways, grand staircases opened to winding halls while gold chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Dear god, one of those chandeliers must've cost more than her mother's annual income. Not that it mattered, since Jackie's stepfather now paid for everything.
The girl stopped before the theater door, chewing her lip. There it stood, the gateway to her future. On second thought, she wasn't certain about this. Maybe she wasn't cut out to act. Closing her eyes, she counted to eight. Lucky eight. She'd give herself eight seconds to decide.
"You're in the way."
Jackie whirled around and almost stumbled into a student who towered over her tiny frame. With a gulp, she inched away and craned her neck to examine his face. His features consisted of harsh lines and sharp angles with a distinct aquiline nose.
"Move." An irritated expression crossed his face while he pushed his glasses up his nose. Dark and intense eyes bore into her, the kind that could pierce right through anything.
"Right! Sorry." Arms flailing, Jackie stepped aside and nearly tripped over her own two feet.
"Took you long enough." The stranger rolled his eyes and brushed past her. She caught a whiff of a spicy and earthy scent with a bitter hint of smoke. He smelled rich—like money. His cologne was the aim of every expensive fragrance commercial.
Gnawing her lip, Jackie followed him into the theater and looked around. At the front reigned a stupendous stage while interminable rows of crimson cushioned chairs lined the audience. Inching forward, she traced over every polished surface, fingertips gliding against varnished wood tiles and opalescent glass inlays.
"Are you lost?"
"No, I'm here for auditions." Tucking a stray lock behind her ear, Jackie offered a hesitant smile.
"So you're new?" Although the student phrased it as a question, a certainty to his voice suggested he knew the answer.
"I'm Jackie. I moved here over the summer."
"Thought so. I would've recognized you otherwise."
Jackie tightly twisted the ends of her red hair ribbon around a finger. "Are you an actor?"
"No, I'm the student director. Name's Aarav." He smoothed out the sleeves of his crisp black button-down.
"So you decide the roles?"
"Mostly." Leaning against the wall, Aarav folded his arms and adjusted his glasses. "Since Westminster values the arts, the school prefers students to be as involved as possible. However, Mr. Wilson the faculty supervisor has the final say over any production decisions."
"New students are allowed to audition, right?"
"Of course." With the tilt of a head, his gaze settled on her. "You read the requirements, correct?"
"I spent all summer practicing. In fact, I have the script memorized."
"As well as everyone else."
Although Jackie bristled, although her pride stung, she knew Aarav was right. What else did she expect from a private school venerated for its prestigious programs and high funding?
"Please find a seat near the stage. Mr. Wilson or I will call your name when it's your turn." After a curt nod, Aarav followed the teacher, an elderly man with graying hair and a black vest.
Despite the clock reading ten minutes until the official start of auditions, the theater grew packed. Aspiring actors found their places surrounded by friends to squeeze in last-minute practice and run lines. Wrapping her arms around herself, she chose a chair near the front where she could watch everyone else. Sliding lower in her seat, Jackie drew her knees to her chest and twisted her hair ribbon around a finger.
Meanwhile, Aarav lounged near the front with one leg crossed over the other in a figure-four position. One hand rested behind his head while the other clutched a clipboard. The teacher leaned a cane against a chair and sat beside him. Casually methodical, he called each person and scrutinized each performance with cold and calculating eyes, jotting notes on his clipboard.
Anahi Gomez, a black-haired sophomore, read for the lead while Damien Mitchell, a freshman with braces, read for the mayor. However, Aarav's expression remained frigid and unreadable. Not one of the multifarious auditions provoked the slightest emotion. Again, he scribbled notes, his silence punctured only by the occasional whispers to Mr. Wilson.
After each audition, the knots in Jackie's stomach twisted tighter and tighter while she tied and untied the red ribbon in her ponytail. As anticipated, numerous reads for Astoria—the leading role—included booming voices and insurmountable energy, gestures trembling with fiery anger. Although she wanted to support her fellow drama nerds, an icy fear skewered her heart. What if their performances precluded her from landing a role?
"Next, Jaclyn Trương."
At last, it was her turn. The final audition. From the left steps, she ascended the stage and shuffled to the center. Teeth digging into her bottom lip, she picked at her nails and fought not to stare at her feet. While her eyes scanned the audience for any smile of encouragement, fellow actors' eyes reflected cold and competitive stares. Not a modicum of kindness. She wiped her sweaty, trembling hands on her jeans and tried not to drop the script.
"Start reading from page 88 whenever you're ready." Brow creasing, Aarav tapped his pen against the edge of the clipboard.
At his words, Jackie stood a little straighter and released a rattling breath. A tremulous smile flickered on her lips. Squeezing her eyes shut, she counted to eight before starting. Her eyes scanned the script, and she forced herself to read the print—the stage directions in sleek italics, the character names in glaring all-caps.
As expected, previous auditionees bellowed with faces contorted in unadulterated rage. However, Jackie aimed for a more subtle interpretation. Despite the doubt scorching her mind, she would follow through with her original intentions. While her dark eyes sharpened, she raised her head and cast the audience a withering stare. In a low voice smoldering with fear, she began to recite the lines she knew by heart.
"You want fear? You want power? I shall destroy you, utterly and completely, burning your body and leaving you choking on your own blood. And for my own amusement, I'll carve out your eyes with my bare hands so you'll understand the darkness you've imprisoned me in all these years."
While Jackie uttered the final words, her body remained rooted in place.
Forged from ashes and embers, her spine was steel and her heart was armor. Astoria's enemies were lower than dirt. No, she wouldn't yell, not with the sheer power coursing through her veins and spilling out her fingertips. Astoria would carry herself with restrained control.
No one moved and no one spoke. Jackie's words lingered in the silence. Holding her breath, she scanned the room. Despite Aarav's hardened expression, the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. Or were her eyes fooling her? Was she grasping at any shred of hope?
"Alright everyone, that is all for now. Mr. Wilson and I will release the list in two days." He clicked his pen against the clipboard.
A flurry of footsteps, a burst of chatter, and the students were out the theater doors. Flailing haplessly, Jackie scurried off the steps to catch up with his retreating figure. "Did I earn a part?"
Maybe she'd imagined Aarav's smile. There was no trace of it on his face now as he loomed over her. With a shaky smile, she stepped back and clasped her hands together. "Or no role? Was I cast as a tree or something?"
"Wait until the cast list is posted," he ordered. "Mr. Wilson still has to approve of my decisions."
"Not even a hint?" Her voice edged toward desperation. From her lips escaped a thin laugh, as though sliced with static, punctuated with a series of short titters.
"No." Aarav's eyebrow twitched. "Now leave. I need to lock the rooms."
With slumped shoulders and head bowed, Jackie sighed and grabbed her bag on the way out, slinging it over her shoulders. The sun's warm rays greeted her, the last remnant of summer break.
"Jackie." A lanky, suntanned blond ambled over to her, hands in his pockets and a crooked grin on his face. He blurred the lines between reality and fiction, looking like he'd stepped from the pages of a fantasy script, ready to play the heroic prince.
The girl froze and her pulse quickened. "Yes?"
"You were great today. Even Aarav was a little impressed which doesn't happen often."
"I was?" Her voice came out high-pitched and strained. As pink tinged her ears, Jackie wrapped her arms around herself while her glance fell to her sneakers.
"Your audition was amazing." The boy's smile widened and she met his warm eyes. Blue. Bright blue. The kind that she could so easily get lost in.
"Thanks." Akin to crimson camellias, Jackie's cheeks blossomed into a brighter red. She bit her lip and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Why was he wasting his time talking to her? Surely he had friends who demanded attention.
"Why haven't I seen you around before?"
"I'm new." The butterflies fluttering in Jackie's stomach were barely containable. "I moved over summer break since my mother remarried."
"First day nerves, I'm guessing? No worries, you'll soon fit in here. Name's Liam, by the way—Liam Sinclair." He held out his hand.
Jackie clasped her fingers around and shook it before jerking back her arm. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans.
An unperturbed Liam flashed her a 100-watt smile. "Pleasure meeting you, Jackie."
. . .
Despite the lingering summer heat, the Aster mansion was cold and quiet. Shivering, Jackie pulled her sweater tighter and walked into the kitchen where she was greeted with the sharp scent of garlic and savory meat. The stove was on, the flickering blue flame warming a large covered pot. Leaning over, she lifted the lid to find thịt kho—braised pork and hard-boiled eggs marinated in coconut water, stained a warm golden brown from the coloring. Her mouth watered, and she could almost breathe in the salty-sweet taste.
Seasoned with soy sauce and fish sauce with tablespoons of brown sugar swirled the flavors and memories of her childhood. Unsaid I love you's were the salt and pepper in every act—lightly dusted between moments of Má preparing home-cooked meals no matter the hour, of Jackie dying her mother's hair to rid her head of old age.
At the sound of footsteps, Jackie lowered the lid and jerked away from the stove. Má padded into the kitchen, feet clad in fluffy slippers, dark hair in a loose ponytail. Heavy jade bracelets and gold bangles decorated her bony wrist. In the dim sulfur light, she looked younger, the lines around her eyes softened. "You're home. How were the auditions?"
Automatically, Jackie reached for her hair ribbon. "Alright."
"Just alright?" Má clicked her tongue while her eyes hardened. In contrast to her stony gaze, her voice sounded quiet and gentle.
The girl straightened and let her arms fall to her sides. "They went well."
"That's my girl. Have you eaten yet?"
"No."
Gathering ceramic bowls and chopsticks, she ordered, "Go wash up. I'll have lunch ready soon."
"I'll help set the table."
Her mother swatted Jackie away. "Listen to what I say."
"Alright," she acceded. Hands raised in surrender, she backed away and headed upstairs to her room.
Spacious and lavish, the room flaunted decor that complimented the rest of the mansion. Dangling from the ceiling was a brass chandelier, dripping with teardrop crystals, with six lights encased in etched glass shades. In the corner stood a four-poster queen bed accompanied by an arched headboard and delicate scrollwork accents. Heavy, deep red drapes pulled back to reveal a wide window, rusted light splintering through the patterned glass. The furniture matched perfectly from the mahogany combination wardrobe to the bookshelf of old tomes and exquisite vanity and giant plush armchairs.
Everything about the space was too grand and priggish—nothing like the comfort of Jackie's tiny white bedroom in her old apartment. Her collection of stuffed animals, fur worn and matted, contrasted the regal red and gold blankets. They didn't belong in the Asters' matchy-matchy mansion.
She didn't either.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, Jackie lifted the brass antique mirror from its spot on the vanity, where it faced the foot of her bed. She grunted, struggling to grasp the frame, and managed to drag it to the ground. The edge slammed against the wall and she winced. Heavens, what would the Asters do if she broke their fancy mirror? Following the phong thuỷ foundation concepts, Jackie dragged it into the nearest storage closet and shut the door.
If the bed wasn't in a commanding position, where the doorway was visible from it, then a mirror should face it. However, the bed's placement was fine and she would be spooked by her reflection in the middle of the night. Jackie didn't need any paranoia creeping into her conscience. Not to mention that secondhand or vintage mirrors could contain negative energy from previous owners. Better to be safe than sorry.
"Jackie, dinner!" her mother called.
"Coming!" She dusted off her hands and fixed her ponytail before running back downstairs. Her feet flew over two, three steps at a time, her hand on the railing serving as her only barrier from falling.
Already, Má was seated at one end of the dinner table. Two bowls of steaming white rice were laid out with the pot of thịt kho resting between them. With the ladle, she loaded a healthy spoonful into Jackie's bowl while Jackie climbed into the chair. She swirled around the rice and mixed it into the seasoned broth. Next, she split the eggs open, digging out the yolk and stirring it into the mix, before eating the outsides.
"It's delicious. Mouth half-full, Jackie dabbed at her lips with a napkin. "Where's Madison and Mr. Aster?"
"Your stepfather said he had some errands to run, and Madison went shopping. Said she'll order food while out."
"Well, both of them are missing out." Jackie bit into the pork belly. Savory and tender and warm, it almost melted into her mouth. She chewed slowly, relishing every bite.
As soon as Jackie finished the meat, Má began piling more on her plate. She dropped her chopsticks into the bowl, the wood clattering against the porcelain rim.
"You need to eat more. I made it so well this time," her mother said. "Besides, you're so skinny."
Sighing, she ate anyway, finishing off every bit of thịt kho even when she felt like her stomach would burst.