Page 15 of The Unknown

Even though all I know so far is her name, I feel protective of this stranger. Daisy was a real person. She lived on this island. In the same cottage I’ll be living in. I have a responsibility to do right by her.

At least as much as I can. The cast breakdown all but confirms my suspicion that I won’t be in the movie very much. The only character listed below mine is someone named Azra, to be played by…Ronan.

“Are you giving yourself a cameo?” Violet says.

“Maybe,” Ronan says. “The part has no dialogue, so I figured anyone can do it. And I’ve been wanting to pull a Hitchcock and put myself in one of my movies.”

I do the math. If Ronan has no lines, then the character immediately above him must have, like, two. Which is fine. Really. I have no reason to be disappointed. The voice of my high school drama teacher rings through my head:There are no small parts. Only small actors.

We’ll see about that, Mrs. Schwartz.

I flip through the script, expecting to see Daisy’s name intermittently. But there it is, right on the first page.

And the second.

And most of the ones I manage to glimpse before Ronan clears his throat and asks if we’re all ready to begin. Everyone says yes, including me, even though I suspect I’m not quite prepared for what’s about to happen. I’d become so convinced that my part was Minor Character with Minimal Lines. Now that that no longer seems to be the case, I’m gripped by a fierce, unshakable anxiety.

What if the role of Daisy is much bigger than I imagined? What if everyone—especially Ronan—expects more than I can deliver? What if I fail?

I already know the answer to that last one. Good-bye, one hundred grand. Good-bye, SAG card. Good-bye, any hope of ever booking another acting job again.

But it’s too late to back out now. Too late even to excuse myself and take five to collect my thoughts. Everyone else now has their scripts open to the title page and is waiting for me to do the same. When I do, my anxiety tightens around me, squeezing so hard I can scarcely breathe.

Right there on the first page, typed neatly beneath the title and Ronan’s name, are words so unbelievable I blink to make sure they’re real.

Based on the diary of Daisy Rue

That’s when it finally dawns on me why the actress who had this part before me sent those texts. She’s jealous that I’m here and she’s not. Because the part of Daisy is more than just a glorified extra, more than a tiny role in a much larger story.

She is, to my utter astonishment, the main character.

June 6, 1926

My name is Daisy.

I’ve always loved the name. It’s so joyful, bright, and cheery, which I suppose also describes me. “Fresh as a daisy,” Daddy used to say about me, and I’ve tried to live up to that.

Other than my name, I’m not sure what else to write. I’ve never had a diary before. Mrs. Semple gave this to me so I can jot down my experiences during my time here. She said it’s important for me to keep a record of everything I experience.

“Think of it as writing a story,” she told me. “Your story.”

I suppose my story should begin with how I came to be here at New Avalon. The short version is that I met Mrs. Semple. The long version is that I think it was fate that brought us together. I believe that with all my heart. Why else would I have been given the Gift if it wasn’t to eventually bring Mrs. Semple into my life?

I’ve possessed the Gift for a very long time. More accurately, the Gift possesses me, for I’ve never had control over it and doubt I ever will, despite what Mrs. Semple says.

The Gift came to me when I was thirteen, shortly after Mommy moved on to the other side. Sometimes I think that it was she who gave it to me—afinal present passed from mother to daughter. That’s why I call it the Gift, even though too often it feels like a curse.

I knew I wasn’t the only one with such a Gift. I’d heard whispers of other women like me who lived not in town, but on an island in the middle of Lake Faraday. I never thought I’d meet one of them. But fate intervened and guided Mrs. Semple to me at just the right moment.

In truth, I’ve fallen on hard times after Daddy also moved to the other side to be with Mommy. When he passed, I was forced to move into a boardinghouse run by Mrs. Clack, a stern widow who did not approve of the Gift. I suppose that’s why she introduced me to Mrs. Semple, who seemed to instantly sense my Gift.

“You’re a very special girl,” she told me. “And it just so happens I own a place for very special people.”

“What kind of place?” I asked.

“An island. Where young women such as yourself can learn to tame their particular abilities in safety and privacy.”

I knew she was speaking about the island I’d heard whispered of but knew so little about. My heart sang at the prospect of visiting it myself and somehow learning to control the Gift. Unfortunately, my financial situation prevented me from doing so, and I told Mrs. Semple as much. She shocked me by saying, “Oh, I don’t expect you to pay, my dear. No one who joins me on the island does.”