by Cristy Burne
‘Let’s count the stairs,’ Emmy hissed. Isaac tried, but between gasping for breath and trying not to trip, it proved impossible. The stairs curled tighter than a barrel wave, so some parts were wide and others narrow. The windows were tiny and there weren’t that many, and before long Isaac was dizzy and puffing harder than when he’d been riding his bike.
At the top Emmy dug Isaac in the ribs. ‘One hundred and forty-four,’ she said.
Isaac nodded, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t even have to pretend to be distracted by the view. It was amazing. They were amazing, him and Emmy. ‘Take our picture,’ he suggested. ‘On your phone. You could send it to my mum.’
Emmy shrugged. ‘Maybe later,’ she said. ‘Come on, I want to show you something,’ and she pointed off into the shimmery distance.
Together they looked down at the roads they’d ridden, talked about bringing paper planes to launch next time, then decided whether they’d rather be lighthouse keepers or famous rock stars. Isaac went for rock star, because that would seem cooler, but Emmy chose lighthouse keeper.
‘No more nagging,’ she sighed wistfully. ‘Think of the peace and quiet.’
‘Who nags you?’ laughed Isaac, thinking how lucky she was that her dad wasn’t a total worry freak, not like some parents he knew …
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ she grinned. ‘Of course. No one. So I’d be a rock star too.’
When they climbed down, Isaac remembered to count: one hundred and fifty-five steps. Eleven more than Emmy. No wonder his legs were wobbly.
They ate lunch at the base of the lighthouse.
‘How about now for that photo?’ Isaac asked.
Emmy shifted uncomfortably. ‘Hey, check that out!’ she said, pointing at a bird of prey circling the scrub. He hadn’t realised she was so into birds.
The cycle home seemed to take just as long, and Isaac had never been so pleased to see a salt lake.
‘Nearly there!’ he yelled.
‘We did it!’ Emmy yelled back.
At the shop they bought themselves celebratory choc milks and a packet of jelly snakes, then sat on a table with their feet on the seats. They grinned at each other, snakes hanging out like jelly tongues.
‘What time’s your mum expecting you?’ Emmy asked. ‘Have we got time for another dare?’
Isaac didn’t want to head back just yet. And he didn’t want Emmy to think he had to go home right away. Plus it was his turn to dare. ‘Dare you to snort that milk out your nose.’
So she tried, and it didn’t work.
And they laughed, and then it did.
They laughed some more, till other people started looking at them. Isaac felt their eyes on him and his brilliant friend, so he laughed even louder.
He still had another dare. It was his turn for two in a row.
‘What’ll it be?’ Emmy asked, wiping choc milk dribbles from her nose.
Isaac sucked in a breath of salty air. The island was his oyster, but not in a slimy-chunkof-phlegm kind of way. More in a waiting-to-be-discovered kind of way. So what dare should he choose next?
‘Oh no,’ Emmy hissed. ‘Quick!’ She jumped off the table and ducked behind the seat.
Isaac ducked too, his heart strangled in his chest. ‘What?’
From under the table, he followed Emmy’s gaze, scanning for trouble. Her eyes were on the man with the jeans and red jacket, from the jetty. The man was parking his bike, with the toddler still strapped in up front. The kindy kid was behind him, doing wide circles on the balance bike. The man had empty shopping bags tied to the back of his bike and he looked stressed.
‘Come on,’ Emmy whispered. She grabbed her bag and snuck away, off the bakery’s deck and behind the building.
Isaac followed. ‘Was that your dad?’
Emmy nodded, stifling a laugh that sounded empty. ‘Isn’t it great? We have this cool game, sort of like hide-and-seek. Dad loves it.’
Isaac nodded slowly. The man didn’t seem to be loving it, but then again, he was busy looking after two little kids.
‘Are they your brothers?’ Isaac had always wanted a brother or sister. Did she play hide-and-seek with them?
Emmy threw up her hands. ‘I know, right? So annoying. But anyway, check it out. A peacock.’
Out of nowhere, a bright blue peacock had appeared, strutting towards the lodge with its iridescent kaleidoscope tail swishing behind.
‘Dare us to follow it!’ Isaac said.
So they did. It wandered along the empty road, nibbling at nothings in the shadow of the trees, never leaving its intricate tail too far behind. Sunlight gleamed off the green feathers, almost as if they were glowing. Isaac decided he would follow it anywhere, but in the end it didn’t go anywhere good.
Later, when they’d finished following the peacock, they headed to the beach.
‘Dare us to carve our names in an old cuttlefish,’ said Emmy.
‘We can throw them into the sea,’ said Isaac. ‘Like a message.’
They collected washed-up cuttlefish and sat on the fishing jetty, carving letters into the soft white bone. Isaac carved DAD next to ISAAC, just to see what it looked like. Then he carved MUM next to DAD. It wasn’t Mum’s fault she was always so worried.
He wondered about Emmy’s mum. Was she still around? Or did Emmy need a photo to remember her face, like Isaac needed for his dad?
‘You want a really cool dare?’ Emmy asked, looking up from her carving.
‘Sure.’
Her brown eyes stared into him, then she shook her head. ‘Nah. You’d never be allowed …’
‘Allowed what?’
Emmy shrugged and went back to her carving. ‘It’s just, I heard the salt lakes have something in them, some algae thing. If you go there at night, and you run your fingers through the water, the water lights up.’
‘Like, glows?’
‘Bright white,’ she nodded. ‘It’s something to do with the algae, so when it’s disturbed, it makes light.’ She kept carving. ‘I always thought it’d be cool to see, but it doesn’t matter.’
Isaac thought it would be loads better than cool.
He thought about asking Mum if he could ride with Emmy to the salt lakes in the dead of night. Mum’d ask why. He’d say so we can swish our hands through the algae water and watch it glow. And then Mum would fit both his ankles with flashing electronic cuffs and he’d never again be trusted to make even vaguely sensible decisions. It’d be vacation care every holidays, for the rest of his life.
To change the subject, he pointed to the waist-high piles of seagrass washed up on the sand in a corner of the bay. The piles looked dry and crunchy.
‘I dare us to run across that,’ he said.
They stashed their carvings in their bags and sprinted across the soft-hard sand of the beach. Turned out the piles were bouncy, like salty trampolines.
‘Dare us to jump from one pile to the other, like we’re on the moon.’
They jumped and fell and laughed and jumped some more, and the night stalk to the salt lakes was forgotten. Almost.
That afternoon, when Isaac once again arrived back at the little yellow cottage safe and sound, Mum said she was happy for him to hang out with Emmy the next day as well. Isaac couldn’t believe it. Emmy was like his lucky charm.
That night it poured, so the next morning, they met early at the mall, in search of mud and puddles. They rode along the disused railway track, all the way to the turnoff for the barracks, then they took turns riding through the lake-sized puddles at the bottom of the hill. They rode right through the settlement, all the way to the other lighthouse, on the coast. They rode up rocky paths and down muddy slopes. Then they ate donuts and snorted choc milk.
It was awesome. But that night, when he peered out at the moon beyond the cold glass of his bedroom window, Isaac wondered again about the night stalk. Emmy was right. Mum would never let him. But what if she did? He couldn’t stop imagining how it would feel, with the water glowing and Emmy
beside him and all around them only darkness.
The next day, when they rode to the shipwreck bay, he wondered about the night stalk. And that afternoon, when they explored the pitted limestone of the cliffs, he wondered about the night stalk. He wanted to ride in the moonlight to the salt lakes, he really did. He wanted to watch the rippling water bristle with light.
‘What if my mum said okay?’ he asked suddenly. They were high in a fig tree, eating lollies and watching bikes and pedestrians buzz around beneath them.
‘Okay about what?’ Emmy asked, mouth full of sweet witchetty grubs and sour ears.
‘About the night stalk,’ he said, holding a killer python by the neck. ‘To the lakes.’
She grinned a lolly grin. ‘Then I’d say you’re on. Because Dad’s said I can go. So now we can both go. We should go tonight.’
Isaac felt his stomach twist. He hadn’t asked his mum. He was only thinking about asking. But maybe she’d say yes?
Yeah right, thought Isaac.
‘Sure thing,’ he said. He bit off the python’s head chewing the jelly goodness. ‘Tonight.’
‘How about one o’clock?’ said Emmy. ‘Meet you at the mall.’
Isaac didn’t hesitate. He just said yes. Mum would be asleep by one o’clock. One would be perfect.
‘The mall,’ he agreed, already picturing a midnight feast by the magical light of the glowing lake.
PREPARING FOR THE STALK
Isaac did intend to ask Mum about the night stalk. He’d been sensible this entire holiday. He’d come back at the times she’d asked. He hadn’t got sunburnt, or dehydrated or attacked by a quokka. He’d hadn’t so much as stubbed a toe. But still, he hesitated.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Mum said over spag bol in the little yellow cottage. ‘You’re not coming down with something?’
Whoops. He tried to think of something sensible to tell Mum about his day. ‘We rode to the bay with the shipwreck today …’
But maybe marine disaster wasn’t the best choice of subject …
‘And I found an interesting shell,’ he added quickly.
They talked about shells and driftwood for a while. Then Mum asked what he wanted to do in the morning. ‘Perhaps we could play minigolf?’ she suggested. ‘Emmy too.’
Isaac nodded. Or perhaps I might be crashed out in bed after spending half the night cycling through the wilderness to explore a glowing lake, he thought. He moved spaghetti around with his fork. He’d ask Mum about the midnight excursion just before bed.
He finished dinner, had a shower, changed into pyjamas, and brushed his teeth. Then he went to kiss Mum goodnight. This is it, thought Isaac. It’s time to ask.
‘There you are,’ Mum said. ‘I thought you might like to play some cards?’
‘No thanks,’ he said.
‘Are you not feeling well?’ She examined him, her kind eyes appearing old, and concerned. He tried to imagine how it had been for her, with him still such a tiny baby.
‘Mum …’ he said.
‘Is that a scratch?’ Her fingers brushed his cheek. ‘Let me put on some Savlon.’
Isaac could hardly feel the scratch. He’d scraped a twig when he and Emmy were climbing the tree. He told Mum it was fine, but she was already fetching the first-aid kit.
‘There,’ she said, nodding with satisfaction. ‘Now, what was it you were going to say, love?’
Isaac shook his head. Mum would never understand. ‘Nothing,’ he lied. ‘I’m just feeling tired. So, an early night for me. Goodnight, Mum.’
‘See you in the morning, love. Thanks for being such a good kid. Hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.’
She gave him a hug, and Isaac hugged her back, in a rip-out-my-shameful-heart kind of way.
He went straight to bed, unable to meet Mum’s eye. He closed the bedroom door behind him and gave himself a lecture. Time to banish guilt from his heart. Because this was his holiday too, his life. And because it was early to bed, early to rise. Very early. He needed to meet Emmy at the mall, at exactly one hour after midnight.
Safely inside his room, Isaac began to prepare.
Warm jacket. Torch. Water bottle. The rest of the muesli bars. Two apples. The leftover mixed lollies and half a packet of snakes. He wished he had some more exciting, midnight feast kind of food, but maybe Emmy could help with that.
Before he switched off his bedroom light, he changed out of his PJs and into his jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. See how sensible he could be? By preparing now, he’d make less noise later. Now that was sensible.
Isaac got into bed and lay there, trying to stay awake. He left the curtain open, so moonlight streamed in his window. He didn’t have a phone like Emmy, so he couldn’t set an alarm. All he had was his watch, and he watched it.
It seemed to take Mum ages to finish what she was doing. Page-turning, kettle-boiling, quiet dish-washing. Then eventually, teeth-brushing, followed by the snap of her light turning off. The cottage finally plunged into total silence. All Isaac could hear was the gentle roll of waves from outside.
He waited an eternity, checked his watch over and again, to make sure it hadn’t stopped. Then, at twenty past midnight, when he could stand it no longer, he carefully, quietly rolled from his bed. He shrugged into his jacket and swung on his backpack.
Outside, the kitchen was cold and dark and silent. He moved to collect the cottage key from where Mum kept it on the mantelpiece, but it wasn’t there. He started to search other surfaces with the stealth of a practising ninja. The kitchen bench. The kitchen table. On top of the fridge. But there was no key, and it was starting to weird him out, all that furniture, just sitting there, empty and still.
The time was now twenty to one. He still had some minutes to find the key, but perhaps he should think up a key-alternative. He could jam open the front door, but it would be freezing and windy and the door would probably bang. He could leave without a key, but then he wouldn’t be able to get back in. He could fashion a key from a hairpin and some baby oil, like in the movies! Legend! He checked the bathroom, but there was only a bar of soap, no hairpins, and no key.
The key had to be in with Mum.
He took a deep breath and cracked the doorhandle to Mum’s room. She was asleep on the single bed, her face curiously peaceful without the wrinkle of daytime stress. He spotted the key on her bedside table, on top of her book. Isaac crept closer, reaching out with one long arm. The key gave a plaintive clink as he lifted it from the book. Mum stirred.
‘Graham?’ she called.
Dad’s name. Isaac’s throat closed like a clamp, his hand still outstretched and the key tangled like weed at the end of his fingers. But she was asleep.
He waited, still and silent as a cliff.
Mum turned in her sleep. She didn’t call out again. A trapped breath eased from Isaac’s chest. He pulled the key in, like he was hauling a delicate fish from the ocean, then he backed slowly out of Mum’s room. When the door clicked closed, he felt as if he’d escaped some desperate trap.
He walked straight to the front door, opened the lock. The door swung wide and the night’s cold air brushed in. Isaac hesitated, remembering Mum’s face. Was this really a sensible decision? Then he thought of Emmy’s face, Emmy’s words: They were old enough. They could be trusted. So, was it a sensible decision? Did he even care?
He slipped through the open door, then carefully pulled it closed, wincing only when the lock clunked back into place.
Outside in the yellow streetlight the limestone walls seemed to leer and lean. Trees swung and moved with the wind, and the ocean waves sounded closer than before.
Isaac felt alive. He found his bike and wheeled it silently from the little yellow yard. Heart busting from his chest, he clipped on his helmet and began the glide down the deserted streets to the mall.
MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE
The mall was empty, except for quokkas. The furry creatures were everywhere. Their tiny shapes covered the grassy valley where families sat
to picnic during the daytime. They moved in the darkness beyond the streetlights. They gathered in their dozens beneath the enormous fig tree he and Emmy had climbed the day before. Isaac was forced to get off his bike and manoeuvre carefully through the mass of busy bodies, just to wheel past them, like it was some kind of super-cute obstacle course. They weren’t even scared. Worse, some hopped towards him, and he nearly tripped over. His shadow twitched and morphed as he weaved and dodged into the empty mall.
He’d made it.
In front of him, yellow streetlights lit silent pavers. No tourists on bikes, no kids in prams, no crows, no seagulls, no peacocks. Just silent quokkas, feasting on figs or cleaning the streets. No Emmy.
Isaac settled down to wait. She’d never been late before. He sat on a bench on the edge of the mall, taking comfort from the quokkas as they went about their business. Wind whistled through the empty street and Isaac thought he could hear the ticking of his watch, or was it his heart?
Something whirled across the ground, catching his eye and rattling straight for him with a crackling and a rustling and …
An empty chip packet. Isaac swallowed hard. What kind of person chucked their chip packet on the floor? It was dirty, it was ugly, and he’d nearly peed his pants.
Where was Emmy?
‘BOO!’
Isaac jumped so high he left the bench. ‘Emmy! You idiot!’
Emmy dissolved into laughter. ‘You should’ve seen your face! You were like, whoa!’ She made a face that might’ve been funny if Isaac wasn’t so furious.
‘Whatever.’ He bristled, busily preparing his bike to hide his shock. ‘You would’ve been the same.’
Emmy laughed. ‘Not me. I’m not scared of anything.’
‘Well, are you ready already? You’re late.’ Isaac was suddenly regretting his decision to come. Emmy had freaked him out, it was cold, he was cross, and he was tired of Emmy always breaking the rules and doing as she pleased. He thought they were friends.
They cycled in silence through the deserted town, following the yellow dot, dot, dot of streetlights until there was only one street, and it was no longer yellow but midnight black. Isaac stayed deliberately silent. He hoped Emmy might realise why.
