by Cristy Burne
The moon was bright, but the wind was cold and strong. Clouds whipped across the sky, sometimes blocking the moonlight so the island plunged into an abyss of solid black. They just rode right through it. The first time the moon disappeared, Isaac wanted to cry out, but soon riding in the inky black made him feel invincible, as if he could face any challenge and come out unscathed. He even forgot he was cross. The cold bit into his hands as he whizzed down the hill to the lake. It bit into his eyes, too. He imagined his tiny tears sparkling like diamonds.
They seemed to ride faster in the darkness, stopping only when they reached the first lake, where he’d seen the lone duck the other day. It wasn’t there now. Probably tucked up warm and safe, cuddling with its other ducks, dreaming happy duck dreams.
‘Is this the place?’ he asked.
Emmy pulled up. He was pleased to see she was puffing. ‘I guess so.’
In the distance he saw the lighthouse beacon flash, blinding white. Yes, this was it. Would the water glow as white as the light?
Out of habit they pulled their bikes to the side of the road, then stepped carefully over the twisted plants to the lake’s rocky edge.
‘Where’s a good spot?’
Isaac tried to get close enough to put his hand in, without being close enough to soak every inch of his shoes. Just every second inch. This better be worth it.
He sat on his haunches, took a big breath, then whirled his fingers through the moonlit water. Nothing happened. He whirled again, the rush of water echoing in his ears.
‘It’s not working.’
Emmy was crouched a couple of metres away. The water wobbled where she’d touched it, but there was no light. No glow. ‘Me neither.’
Isaac tried again. Nothing.
‘Perhaps it’s not this lake,’ Emmy said. ‘Perhaps it’s that other one, further on. The one with the pink.’
Isaac remembered the pink lake, with the red seahorse creatures in its shallows and bright bracken at its edge. Of course it was the pink lake. What better place for magical glowing lights?
They grabbed their bikes and rode a bit further. Just to the pink lake.
But the pink lake was the same.
‘Nothing,’ Isaac said, trying to keep the accusation from his voice.
‘Me neither.’ Emmy sounded confused. She ran her fingers through the salty water again. Currents rushed and ripples danced, but nothing glowed. ‘I dunno.’
‘But you said you knew …’
Emmy stood up. ‘I never said I knew, I only said I thought … But it doesn’t matter. We’re out, having an adventure. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
She climbed back to the road.
Isaac followed, unsure what to do next. Here they were, alone in all the world, with the moon shining and the night alive. And there was no glowing lake, no magical moment. He’d gone to all this trouble. He’d lied to his mum. Dodged a million quokkas. Developed a lifelong phobia of chip packets. And for what?
The lighthouse beacon shone again. He didn’t want to go home, and he was still a bit cross. ‘How ’bout we keep going? All the way to the lighthouse.’
Because Emmy wasn’t the only one who could have crazy ideas.
He looked at her, but she was staring up at the sky. ‘Look at all the stars,’ she breathed. ‘We don’t see this many at home.’
He stared up at the universe, listening to water lapping the lake’s edge. Something tiny rustled in the undergrowth, probably a lizard or a bird. He breathed deep. It was beautiful.
‘Serious,’ he said. ‘Let’s do it. It’ll be fun.’
Because it was fun. Being with Emmy was fun, even if she did make him mad.
‘Sorry it didn’t glow,’ she said.
‘Me too.’ He grinned, trying to cheer her up. ‘At least we tried.’
‘And sorry I scared you, back at the mall.’
He guffawed. ‘You didn’t scare me.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said, with a smile in her voice, so he knew that she knew that he’d been terrified. Still, he felt better that she’d apologised.
‘Come on. Dare us to go further.’
So they did.
And Isaac felt a wild kind of joy.
He and Emmy rode together up and down the hills, yelling and whooping and not caring who heard. They didn’t care that their noses ran and their eyes watered. The roads were shiny with moonlight, and Isaac was warm under his jacket, and he felt as if anything was possible.
‘Check it out!’ Emmy cried, pulling a wheelie as she raced up the hill.
This time Isaac didn’t hesitate. He pushed down hard on his pedals, pulled with all his strength on his handlebars, and pulled back, hoping and hoping he could do a wheelie.
He felt his front tyre begin to lift. This was it! He was really doing a wheelie!
Emmy cried out. ‘Quokka!’
He heard the screech of her bike braking and swerving, felt his own bike tipping and falling.
Oh no.
They were having an accident. It felt like a bad one. What would Mum say? How would she manage? What —
He crashed, without really knowing where he was or where Emmy was or which way was up or down. For a moment the two bikes were as one, tangled and airborne and struggling to stay upright. Then they tumbled, tore, rolled, slammed into the tarmac. Metal screamed and spokes snapped and fabric ripped and a hot burning erupted in Isaac’s shoulder that was at once painful and sticky and wet.
He lay there, limbs tangled in his bike, awkwardly, painfully twisted where he’d come to rest.
The night was silent.
‘Emmy?’ he croaked.
RECOVERING
For a long time, nothing moved.
‘Emmy!’ he said again. ‘Are you there?’
No. Not Emmy. What would he would do if she was injured? If she was —
Emmy groaned.
She was alive. ‘Are you okay?’ Isaac asked.
The question hung. Isaac began to panic, then Emmy creaked out a rusty, ‘Yeah. You?’
Emmy was okay. She was alive, and she was okay.
Isaac tested his shoulder. Me too, he thought. I’m alive and I’m okay.
Then his enthusiasm passed. We’re miles from home, it’s the middle of the night, half my arm is smeared onto the road, and Mum is going to —
Mum! He really kinda sorta wanted his mum right now.
‘I’m okay,’ he managed.
With all the precision of a painful and intricate dance, they separated bodies from bikes, bums from tarmac, reality from hopeful dream.
Isaac’s bike looked as if it had melted in the sun. His front tyre was buckled, his seat was ripped, and his front brakes were stuck on permanently. Plus his shoulder ached as if he’d slammed into a fast-moving dumbbell delivery truck.
Emmy’s bike wasn’t much better. Her handlebars were twisted, and at least three spokes were snapped where Isaac’s shoe had gone through her wheel.
‘At least we didn’t hit the quokka,’ she said. Her voice cracked in the dark.
Isaac nodded automatically. How were they going to get back? His bike was a wreck. There was no way he could ride it. He turned his attention to Emmy’s BMX. If they could straighten her handlebars, maybe it wouldn’t matter about the spokes.
‘Can you still ride?’ he asked. He could stand on the pegs, hold on to her shoulders. They could dink back to the settlement.
Emmy shook her head. ‘My knee …’
It was hard to see details, but Emmy’s trouser leg looked messy and Isaac wasn’t good with blood. Maybe he could ride the BMX, and Emmy could hold onto his shoulders. But his shoulder …
‘It’s okay,’ Emmy said. ‘It’ll be okay.’
That’s when Isaac remembered Emmy’s phone. They had a phone. It really would be okay.
‘We can ring your dad!’
They were saved! Emmy’s dad had given her permission to go on the night stalk. He was the kind of parent who understood about independen
ce and responsibility. He had given Emmy her own phone, especially for occasions just like this.
But Emmy wasn’t celebrating. She was silent.
‘Your dad wouldn’t mind. He could come get us.’ He didn’t have a car, but he could probably borrow one. Or a luggage truck. They could ride up the back.
Emmy shook her head.
‘What? Why not?’
She looked at her shoes. ‘It doesn’t work.’
‘What?’
She looked at her shoes again, then sniffed. ‘I nicked it from my dad, okay? It’s his old phone. There’s no credit, no SIM card, it doesn’t work. Plus he’d freak if he found out.’
‘Found out what?’
She fiddled with her left sneaker, then cleared her throat. ‘That I’ve sneaked out. I’m supposed to be grounded. He says he’s fed up with me always disappearing.’
Isaac felt his head might explode. ‘But you said …’
‘Well I lied.’
There was a silence then. When Emmy spoke again, she sounded angry. ‘I lied, and so what? I’m sick of being stuck at home with Oscar and Ajay. Dad’s only got time for them, so what’s the point of me even being there. I’m just someone to fetch nappies and mop spills.’ She sniffed again, and Isaac realised she might be crying. Emmy. Crying. ‘I hate it,’ she said bitterly.
Isaac gulped. What to do, what to say? For a long time, they said nothing.
‘What about your mum?’ Emmy asked.
‘She thinks I’m still in bed.’
‘Well then we’re both stuffed, aren’t we?’
Isaac felt like giving up.
The night sounds had started up again. Above them wind flowed like a waterfall through the leaves. Tiny creatures rustled in the scrub. Except for these whispers, they were entirely alone.
Emmy was right. They were stuffed. He pictured Mum’s reaction in the morning, when she found he wasn’t there.
If they weren’t back before sunrise, tucked safely in their beds, Mum would find out he’d lied to her. Emmy’s dad would discover she’d sneaked out. Both parents would be furious and the rest of the holiday would be a write-off. They’d never trust Emmy or Isaac again. Mum would be more paranoid than ever. He’d probably be a hundred years old before she even let him check the letterbox by himself.
He looked at Emmy. She was crouched on the ground. Her shoulders were shaking. Was it shock or the cold? Because it was certainly getting colder. He had to do something. Take responsibility.
He reached out for an idea.
‘Dare us to cover this up,’ he said. ‘Dare us to wheel the bikes home, and be back in our beds before morning.’
He waited. The wind blew. Emmy slowly stopped shaking. She wiped at her eyes, sniffed, then stood up.
‘You’re on,’ she said, and there was only the tiniest wobble in her words.
MAKING IT HOME
The first thing they did was eat. One-and-a-half chocolate muffins, two muesli bars and an apple each. Emmy hadn’t brought much else, so Isaac made them eat all of it, all except the lollies and jelly snakes.
‘We’ll eat them at the salt lakes,’ he said. ‘Like a prize, for making it that far.’
Emmy nodded and Isaac felt warmer with something in his stomach. The sweets were something to look forward to, to keep them pushing on. They drank from their bottles, then prepared for the long trek home.
Isaac swung his bag onto his undamaged shoulder, placed both hands on his handlebars and gave a test push. There was a dreadful grating sound as he forced his bike forward. The brake pads were rubbing on the twisted rim, protesting each demented turn of the wheel.
‘At least I won’t lose you in the dark,’ Emmy said, and Isaac laughed. It felt good to laugh. Slightly maniacal, but good.
Emmy shrugged on her own bag and picked up the BMX. She had to hold the handlebars crooked, but then the bike went straight. That seemed to work well enough, and the only sound was the plink, plink, plink of broken spokes as the wheel turned around.
‘Yours is almost musical,’ said Isaac, and Emmy laughed softly.
He took a deep breath. ‘Okay.’ And they started walking.
Straight away he noticed the wind. It had been behind them on the way here, now it was blasting in his face. Emmy’s hair flew out behind her like wild oats. Icy cold reached into the gaps in his jacket and made his shoulder ache.
Isaac tried to ignore the grinding and screeching of his twisted wheel. As he forced himself forwards, forced the bike forwards, he looked up at the stars. There was no need to watch the road. There were no cars this time of night, and every creature this side of the island could hear their busted bikes coming.
‘Not too bad,’ he said, forcibly cheery. ‘Moonlight. Few clouds. And we’ll soon be warm with all this walking.’
Except Emmy couldn’t walk, not fast enough to stay warm. She was limping, and there was a darkness that had soaked through at her knee.
‘I’m okay,’ she insisted, but after only a minute, she stopped. ‘Actually, I’m thirsty.’ She made a big show of getting out her water bottle, having a drink. Finally, after she’d packed her bottle back into her bag, she said, ‘I’m good now, I’m okay.’
But now Isaac knew: not everything Emmy said was true.
He took off his jacket and his long-sleeved shirt, the wind cutting into his bare chest like animal claws. He rushed back into the jacket, zipping it tight. Then he tied his shirt around Emmy’s wet knee. So maybe first-aid courses were good for something.
‘I’ll take your bag,’ he said. ‘To make it easier on your leg.’
He expected her to protest, but she only passed the bag over. ‘Thanks.’
‘You could maybe sit side-saddle,’ he said. ‘So you could take the weight off.’ He showed her how, and after a bit of practice she could sort of scoot along using her good leg as an oar.
There was no more wetness at Emmy’s knee, and despite the hill climbs, when she had to get off and walk, they made slightly better progress. Isaac’s broken bike was resisting all the way, and he felt himself warm up. This time he didn’t care if Emmy heard him puffing and panting. His friend stayed strangely quiet, so he focused on filling the eerie silence with chatter, and tried to get her to do the same.
‘What if you could only eat one food for the rest of your life?’ he asked. But that was too easy. She chose hot chips. He chose donuts. It was time to up the stakes.
‘Would you rather eat fried tarantula or raw squid?’ he said.
Emmy’s laugh exploded. ‘What?’ But it didn’t stop her from carefully choosing the squid. She wasn’t keen on hairy spider legs, but Isaac went for the tarantula. He figured frying would burn off the hairs.
‘Would you rather go to Antarctica or the Moon?’ Isaac asked next. Emmy chose Antarctica, for the penguins and seals. Isaac chose the Moon. For the bouncing around and peeing in a bottle.
She laughed again and his heart thrilled. They talked like this for a long while, till he asked ‘Would you rather fly, or be invisible?’
They both chose fly, and were quiet after that.
That’s when they heard something moving in the bushes. It wasn’t an ordinary something, not like the soft rustlings and sighings of the night. It was louder. Larger. Chip-packet-scarier.
They stopped dead and listened hard. The wind had dropped and Isaac was sweating inside his jacket, but now he turned cold. Whatever it was, it was coming straight for them.
Isaac put down the bags and his bike, and prepared for combat. They were alone and injured in the wilderness. And now there was an unknown predator coming for them. It was Mum’s worst nightmare. It was his worst nightmare. But he had Emmy now, and he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
When the animals burst from the bushes, there were more of them than he’d imagined. And they came straight for him.
‘Quokkas!’ Isaac’s voice was almost hysterical with relief. ‘They’re quokkas.’
‘Snakes!’ Emmy yelled.
&nbs
p; Isaac jumped, wildly searching the ground. But it was too dark, they were too quick, he saw nothing.
‘In the bag,’ Emmy cried. ‘Save our snakes. The quokkas …’
The furry beasts tore into Isaac’s backpack with their teeth. He raced over, yelling and stomping his feet, but too late. All the lollies had been compromised.
‘They’re still okay to eat,’ Emmy insisted.
Isaac shook his head. ‘No way. Quokkas have germs, on their teeth especially. It’s better we don’t eat them.’ He thought of Mum, thought she might even be proud.
Thinking of Mum added to the crushing loss of the snakes and he suddenly felt tired. They had no food left. They weren’t in Antarctica or on the Moon; they weren’t invisible and they couldn’t fly. He just wanted to be home. He bundled the mauled snakes into his bag. It was better the quokkas didn’t eat them either.
‘Ready?’ Isaac asked.
‘Ready,’ Emmy said.
They scoot-walked and screech-biked on. They were close to the salt lakes now, Isaac could smell them. But they were also closer to dawn. Time was running out if they were going to get back to the settlement and into their beds before breakfast. And how was he going to explain his shoulder? Bad nightmare? Savage insect? And what about Emmy’s knee?
‘We’re in trouble, aren’t we?’ Emmy said.
But Isaac didn’t want to give up yet. There was still time.
ONE MORE DARE
They limped past the salt lakes and up the steep hill, past the minigolf and the lodge and through the dawn-coloured mall. The first light was soft but the wind was cool and there was no one about. It was still early. They were still on time.
‘We did it,’ Emmy said softly. ‘We made it back.’
Isaac knew he should be ecstatic. He had the cottage key. He could sneak inside, then complain of a headache when Mum got up. He could spend the whole day in bed. If Mum woke when he was sneaking in, he could say he went out to watch the sunrise, but was now feeling ill. Back to bed. It was easy.
