by Cristy Burne
Isaac nearly fell out of the tree. His mum would totally freak.
‘Not the ferry jetty.’ Emmy grinned, looking at his face. ‘The fishing jetty. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You drop your stuff at home, and I’ll meet you at the jetty in an hour.’
Easy for you, Isaac thought.
‘Sounds great,’ he said.
JETTY JUMP
Isaac returned to the cottage, all limbs intact and in possession of a litre of milk and a loaf of bread. He was back within the promised time, but Mum welcomed him as if he’d been gone a week.
He wondered whether to explain to her about Emmy and the daring game. About how he would be busy for a while. About how Emmy’s dad let her do whatever she wanted.
He wasn’t sure Mum would think trading dares with a boulder-climbing, wheelie-pulling, under-supervised stranger was very sensible. But Emmy wasn’t strange. And this was supposed to be a holiday for Isaac as well as Mum.
‘Here you are,’ he said, delivering Mum’s cup of tea hot and milky, just the way she liked it.
‘Thanks love.’ She flicked him a smile, using a finger to mark her place in the book. ‘You want to play cards? Or go for a walk?’
‘Maybe Mum, but not right now.’
Isaac ducked into his room. He changed into shorts, grabbed his bag and shoved in a pair of quick-dries, plus a T-shirt he could use to dry off afterwards. Mum might notice if he took a whole towel.
When he reappeared, Mum was reading again. Mum could really get into her reading. This was his chance! ‘How’s the book?’
‘Mmmm?’ she said, not looking up from her pages. Yes!
‘I’ve made a friend,’ he continued. ‘Her name’s Emmy. She’s invited me to hang out for a bit.’
‘Mmmmm,’ said Mum. Double yes! This was really happening.
Isaac grabbed a couple of choc chip muesli bars from a box in the kitchen and added them to his backpack, then he moved towards the door.
‘Okay, back soon,’ he ventured.
He held his breath. He twisted the lock, swung the door open, prepared to step out.
‘Where’re you off to?’ Mum asked, closing her book.
Isaac’s body froze with the effort of suppressing an island-sized groan.
‘I’ve made a friend,’ he repeated patiently.
Worry flicked across Mum’s face. ‘What sort of friend?’
It was a miracle Isaac wasn’t bald. It took all his powers not to tear out his hair. And it took twenty questions, a promise to beware of strangers, use his best manners, and return well before five, before Isaac convinced her he’d be okay.
‘You’ll be sensible?’ she asked finally.
‘Super-sensible.’ He nodded and pulled his most sensible face. He didn’t need to practise the sensible face any more. It was second nature, but that didn’t mean it always worked.
When Isaac slipped out the door, at last, and jumped on his bike, he’d been longer than expected. Would Emmy still be waiting? He pushed hard along the sandy concrete path to the beach. He needed her to be there.
And she was, standing on the sand at the base of the fishing jetty. She wasn’t dressed in her bathers, so she wasn’t really going to jump. Phew. He parked his bike and walked through the sandy scrub to the beach.
‘You’ve been ages,’ she said, leaping up the few wooden steps to the jetty. ‘Come on!’
He followed her across the weathered slats. This jetty was minuscule compared to the ferry jetty. He could see sparkling water on either side, watch strands of seagrass dancing with the current. He could even see water through the gaps. Mum would be speed-dialling search and rescue.
When they reached the end of the jetty, Emmy turn to face him, mischief all over her face. ‘Ready?’
She pulled off her T-shirt to reveal a pair of bright orange bathers.
Winter wind pricked her skin into goosebumps. No one was swimming. No one else was that crazy. Emmy and Isaac were alone, except for two bobbing boats, and even the boats looked shivery.
‘You’re really going to jump?’
‘Course we’re going to.’
Emmy took off her shorts and stood there in her bathers. The wind whirled bronze hair about her shoulders and she seemed like a bright orange medieval hero. Then she hooted and wrapped her arms around herself like rubber bands. ‘It’s icy!’
Isaac nodded and grinned. What a relief. She felt the same way. It was arctic. Even pretending to swim was ridiculous. He was already deciding on a new dare. Maybe a ride to the salt lakes. He’d seen them on the map, and it would be great to cycle along the empty roads, right up to the lakes. They could have a picnic, eat the muesli bars …
SPLASH!
Isaac spun.
Emmy was gone! Someone screamed from below. From deep down in the swirling water. Isaac peered over the jetty’s edge, guts in his gullet.
‘Aaaaaargh!’ Emmy’s mouth was split open with surprise. Her eyes were wide and Isaac felt as if sparks of energy were shooting from them. ‘It’s freeeeezing!’ She breaststroked to the jetty’s ladder, dark hair dripping. ‘Slushie-cold,’ she gasped. ‘Aaaaaaargh!’
She disappeared under the waves and Isaac nearly cried out, but then she reappeared, hair swept back by the wash of the waves. She grabbed onto the ladder and pulled herself out with a single heave. Water streamed from her body and she whooped again, beaming all the while. ‘Wooohoooo!’
Her face was flushed, her knuckles white. She looked up at Isaac with a wild and happy grin.
‘I’m king of the world!’ She climbed the rest of the ladder and jumped about on the jetty. ‘Yeeeeeeeah!’ she cried, then turned to Isaac. ‘You want me to give you a count? Down from three?’
He forced himself to take off his T-shirt, then sucked in a breath so large he thought his shivering chest might explode.
‘Yeah!’ Emmy cheered. ‘Ready? Three, two, one …’ When Emmy yelled ‘Jump!’ he pushed himself over the edge of the jetty, into the air.
His brain was still on the jetty, debating whether or not to jump. It decided not to.
His body hit the icy water and everything went black. The ocean roared about his ears. Salt rushed at his eyes and into his mouth. His skin was on fire. He fought for the surface, bursting into the air like an asthmatic whale. He had never felt this cold. Or this alive.
‘Whaaaa!’ His lungs were in shock. His lips couldn’t form proper sounds. Pins and needles jabbed him all over.
Emmy grinned down at him from the jetty. She had a white towel wrapped around her and appeared to be steaming in the cold. Either that or his vision was clouding over.
‘How good is that?’ she asked, face lit up like sunrise.
He swam to the ladder with frozen limbs, lifting himself free from the pin-pricking ice. She handed him a clean white towel. ‘Here, I thought maybe you might forget.’
Isaac took the towel gratefully, pulling it around his chattering body.
‘That was crazy.’
‘I know, right.’ Emmy grinned. ‘We’re total legends. Let’s get some chips to celebrate.’
‘And donuts.’ Lots of donuts.
They pulled on their T-shirts, wrapped the towels around their waists, and walked across the sand to their bikes. He felt as if sunshine walked with them.
‘What do we do next?’ Emmy asked through a mouthful of donut. ‘I’m thinking the lighthouse. I dare us to bike all the way to the lighthouse, the one in the middle of the island.’
Isaac bit into three salty chips at once, puffing and swishing as their fluffy centres burned his tongue. He puffed and swished longer than strictly necessary while he thought. It was his turn for a dare. They were supposed to take it in turns.
Emmy seemed to sense his reservation. ‘Next time you can have two in a row,’ she promised. ‘But for now, I dare us to ride to the lighthouse.’
Isaac’s dare was going to be riding to the salt lakes, but when you biked to the middle lighthouse, you biked past the salt lakes anyw
ay. So it was sort of the same dare, which meant it was sort of like his turn anyway, right?
He was suddenly conscious of the dipping sun and his wet shorts and soggy towel. The glow of their jump was passing. Five o’clock was probably approaching. And he needed to get back to the cottage before Mum transformed into an unstoppable where’s-my-boy-zilla and trampled the entire island in her desperate search. ‘Can we do it tomorrow?’
Emmy pulled out her phone, made a show of checking the time. ‘We could go right now, if we’re quick.’
Isaac made a face. ‘My mum is kind of big on being sensible. Super-sensible, actually.’
Emmy shrugged, flicking her drying hair. ‘We’re not babies. We can do what we want.’ She looked at him. ‘You worry too much.’
Isaac nodded. She was right. Absolutely right. He did worry too much. Especially since Mum worried enough for the both of them. And it wasn’t like worrying would actually change anything.
But not-worrying could change a lot. Like if he arrived back late, he’d probably have to sketch at the kitchen table for the rest of his life. He loved drawing, but not that much.
‘So tomorrow?’ he tried again.
Emmy stared into the trees, as if she were considering. Isaac’s stomach burned with chips and donuts and nerves.
Then she nodded. ‘Tomorrow. I’ll meet you here.’ She checked her phone again. ‘Say, eight o’clock?’
Eight was way too early. Mum was still making coffee and finishing breakfast. ‘Maybe nine?’
She sighed, then agreed. ‘Nine. But I’ll be way earlier, so you can come whenever.’
The burn in Isaac’s stomach morphed into an eruption of excitement. Tomorrow he was biking to the lighthouse! With Emmy!
Now he had to decide what to say to Mum.
TO THE LIGHTHOUSE …
The next morning, when Isaac cycled to meet Emmy at the mall, Mum came too. She’d insisted.
‘I just want to meet this girl,’ she’d said. ‘Make sure you’ll be safe.’
Isaac knew Mum would never in a zillion lifetimes let him disappear all day without knowing exactly where he was, so he’d figured his only hope was to tell the truth. Hadn’t he delivered the milk and bread on time and without injury? Hadn’t he hung out with Emmy all afternoon and arrived safely home with only slightly damp hair? Wasn’t he being an honest, responsible son right now, just by asking? And so Mum had agreed, on condition she got to meet Emmy first.
Now Isaac held his breath. He hoped Emmy hadn’t done anything too obviously un-sensible. Like riding in her bathers. Or forgetting her helmet. Or spray-painting her face fluoro yellow with spots. Isaac got the feeling that for Emmy, sensible wasn’t actually a priority.
Luckily, Emmy was wearing sensible trousers with a sensible jacket tied around her waist. Her sensible helmet was even on her head. The only thing on her face was a smile.
‘Thanks for letting Isaac come today,’ she said. ‘We’ll be super-sensible.’ Isaac hid his grin. Emmy proceeded to show Mum the contents of her backpack. ‘Water bottles, homemade chocolate muffins, map, money for the lighthouse tour, and this …’ She held up the shining central piece in her Sensible Plan. ‘My phone,’ she said. ‘Anything happens, we can call.’
Mum looked across at Isaac and raised her eyebrows happily. She gave a slight nod that made his heart leap. She was converted!
Mum gave Emmy her mobile number, just in case, and Emmy handed Mum a pre-prepared slip of paper with her own number on it. Sensible.
Then Mum gave Isaac some cash for the lighthouse tour. Embarrassingly, she kissed him right on the lips.
‘Be safe,’ she said. ‘I love you!’
He grunted and nodded, and he and Emmy took off. He managed to wave goodbye without wobbling too much.
‘How did you do that?’ he blurted, as soon as they were out of sight. ‘You convinced her, just like that!’
Emmy grinned and pulled a wheelie. ‘It’s easy when you know how. Come on!’
She pulled ahead and Isaac wondered about trying his own wheelie. Emmy wasn’t looking, so she wouldn’t see if he flunked out. But she might turn around at any moment. Maybe he’d try later.
They rode quickly, weaving between tourists who crouched low and fed figs to curious quokkas. They cruised past the minigolf and the lodge and the old cemetery, right to the edge of the first salt lake. It spread before them like a shivering jelly, edges whipped into foam.
They cycled on and Isaac realised the lake was lake-ier than he’d imagined. It was huge, stretching across to scrubby hills on the right, the horizon crowned with a whirling wind turbine. But straight ahead he could already see the lighthouse, poking its white head high. It didn’t look so far. He was suddenly glad Emmy had dared them twice in a row. She was good at this game. And good at handling parents. Biking to the lighthouse was heaps better than just riding to the lakes.
There weren’t any other cyclists, but Isaac spotted a lone grey duck on the water, its head tucked tightly into folded wings. You know, duck, you’d have more fun with a friend, he thought.
They pedalled past another salt lake, then across a land bridge that was bounded by water on either side, but with no sensible fencing or safety protection. Mum would’ve worried. Emmy whooped. Isaac felt wonderful. The lakes were edged with bright red bracken and the water seemed almost pink. Emmy showed him the tiny, blood-red creatures that hung in its shallows. They looked like miniature mutant seahorses.
Then they hit the first hill, and the real work began.
After that first hill, the flat road became a kicking serpent. For every hill they conquered, another rose up, and the distant lighthouse never seemed any closer. They passed gnarled tea-trees and struggling scrub, saw snow-white daisies bobbing like stars in the wind, and sleeping quokkas, curled into the undergrowth and shadows. And still they rode. Soon it was too tricky to talk. The wind roared in Isaac’s ears, right next to his pulse. He hoped the wind was roaring in Emmy’s ears too. He didn’t want her to hear how much he was puffing.
He desperately wanted to check Emmy’s map, to see how much further they had to go. He was thirsty and hungry and the next hill looked seriously impossible. But he didn’t want to be first to beg for a break.
‘How ’bout a break?’ Emmy asked, turning her head to yell into the wind.
‘If you want,’ Isaac yelled back.
He gratefully followed Emmy’s bike to the side of the road. She’d chosen a spot where the tea-trees offered protection from the wind and the brown earth seemed swept clean, as if by ghostly brooms.
Isaac tried to bring his breath back to normal. His nose was running, his eyes were streaming, his fingers felt permanently handlebar-shaped and his legs felt like spaghetti. But he made a promise to himself: there was no way he was going to admit how tired he was.
Emmy dropped her bike to the ground and flopped on to her back in the soft dirt, making a starfish shape with her arms and legs. ‘I am totally pooped.’ She sat up, a twig stuck in her hair so she looked wilder than ever. ‘You want a muffin?’
He grinned and let himself collapse beside her. ‘Sure. You want a muesli bar?’
They ate and drank and Isaac could’ve stayed forever, but forever didn’t work out how he’d hoped. Only a couple of minutes into forever, three quokkas bounded in through the scrub, behaving more like shrunken grizzly bears.
‘Your bag!’ Emmy cried. ‘They’re eating it!’
Isaac jumped up and clapped and shouted, doing his best Incredibly Brave Defender impression to shoo the animals away, but they wouldn’t shoo. No wonder the floor was so clean. ‘They’re after the muesli bars!’ He stamped his feet and threw his hands in the air as he yelled. The quokkas just stared at him with their soft, black eyes, and ripped at his backpack with their sharp, black claws.
‘We better go,’ Emmy said.
Isaac darted in to rescue his bag and they jumped on their bikes, pedalling quickly away. Isaac’s body was rippling with adrenaline, bu
t he tried to keep his voice airy. ‘How much further do you think?’
Emmy shrugged. ‘I guess we’re about halfway.’
And it was too late to turn back.
Isaac returned to fighting gravity and fighting the wind and blinking through the streaming of his eyes with every push of the pedals. He and Emmy screamed with excitement on the downhills, panted with concentrated effort on the ups. He began to think of the ride as a giant roller-coaster, speeding down the hills fast enough to steam at least part of the way back up. By the time they reached the signpost at the bottom of the lighthouse road, he’d almost forgotten he was tired.
‘We made it!’ Emmy whooped, though the lighthouse was still high above them.
‘Woohoo!’
They walked the rest of the way, doggedly wheeling their bikes up a steep, curving road that made the other hills look like bumps.
… AND BEYOND!
Isaac and Emmy stood at the base of the towering lighthouse. Close up, the stone was cold and lumpy and almost grey, not the sheeny white he’d imagined. Somehow that made it more real. And it was enormous — so much bigger than he’d expected. No wonder it had looked so close, back at the salt lakes. He wondered about climbing all the way to the top. Was that really part of the plan?
‘Shall we?’ Emmy said, craning her neck to see the landing. It was high enough that Mum would’ve worried about oxygen levels.
He and Emmy paid their money and joined a tour. Their guide’s name was Jim. ‘You waiting for your mum and dad?’ he asked.
‘They’re back at the settlement,’ Emmy said casually.
‘We’re fine,’ explained Isaac, just as if he and Emmy often went cycling in wild places, just the two of them.
Two teenagers arrived on the bus with their parents, joining Jim’s tour at the last minute. Isaac nodded to them nonchalantly. Wheeee, look at me, he wanted to shout.
Jim explained the rules — no running, no pushing, no dangling from the roof — and they began to climb.
