The Song of Hadariah: Dybbuk Scrolls Trilogy: Book 1 (Dybbuk Scrolls Trillogy)

by Alisse Lee Goldenberg

  Mrs. Eisen jumped in. “What your father means is we just want you to be prepared, take risks, and try something new. Figure out a path and take it.”

  “I will,” Carrie assured them. “Don’t worry.”

  “We have to,” her mother said. “We’re parents. It’s our job to worry.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, Carrie sat on the overstuffed couch in Rebecca’s family room. She always loved it at her friend’s home. The cheery yellow walls and the familiar blue couch always filled her with a sense of calm. She considered this house her second home. Rebecca’s parents never failed to make her feel welcome, and that evening was no exception. She had been greeted at the door by Rebecca’s mother with a hug and a laugh as she returned the cell phone.

  “I would lose my head if it weren’t attached to my body!” she said, laughing.

  “I’m the same way,” Carrie replied with a smile. “I’m always losing things.”

  Carrie, Lindsay, and Rebecca had been best friends since they first met at the age of three. Carrie had entered the junior kindergarten classroom on her first day of school and quickly spotted Rebecca and Lindsay sitting together under the teacher’s desk, deep in conversation. She had simply walked over and sat down next to them, as if she had known them all her life. Carrie had then asked, quite seriously, what they were doing and if she could join them. Lindsay had replied that they were a family of wolves, and the space under the teacher’s desk was their home. Carrie had accepted this as fact and joined the pack. From that moment, the three girls had been inseparable.

  Carrie entered the family room and settled down on the floor across from where Lindsay and Rebecca sat on the couch. She knew there was room for her beside them, but she felt at home sitting cross-legged, her back against one of the Campbell’s cushy armchairs.

  Rebecca Campbell was a tall, curvy girl with jet-black hair that used to be a large mass of curls. Now, she constantly, meticulously straightened it to the protest of her two friends. Her skin was the bane of her existence; she was so pale that she could never go outside without risking a major sunburn. She loved having fun and had a very active imagination. At the same time, she often found herself taking on the role of the “mother” in the group, keeping the other two girls’ penchant for silliness grounded in reality and common sense.

  Lindsay Smith was the polar opposite of Rebecca in her looks. She was a pretty, petite blonde whose long, wavy hair reached past her waist. Carrie and Rebecca always laughed about how she was the only blonde they knew who dyed her hair blonder, for she streaked it a lighter shade, bordering on white. This, coupled with her love of bronzer, made her look more at home in California than Canada. She dressed modestly in long skirts and tops with sleeves that reached past her elbows, reflecting her more religious sensibilities.

  That evening, the three girls were sitting around Rebecca’s house just talking and laughing—making plans for the last part of the summer. Rebecca and Lindsay had gone off on a tangent that revolved around a book all three of them had read, yet Carrie did not seem at all interested. She sat looking at a spot just above Lindsay’s head, her right hand fiddling with the gold chamtzah she wore around her neck—a habit she had whenever she was nervous or deep in thought. The palm-shaped amulet had been a gift from her bubbie on her tenth birthday. She remembered how she had been told it would bring her good luck, and since that day she had never taken it off. Her mind went over the conversation she had had at dinner with her parents and then over the strange events earlier that day. She recalled the fox and how Finnigan had almost caught it. She thought about how she had seen it appear to bow to her.

  “Yoo-hoo! Earth to Carrie!” Rebecca called, throwing a pillow at her friend.

  “Huh?” Carrie snapped to attention and swatted the offending pillow to the ground. She looked up to see Rebecca’s hazel eyes sparkling with laughter.

  “Where were you?” Lindsay asked. “You looked like you were a zillion miles away.”

  “Oh,” Carrie replied, looking a little sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you okay?” Rebecca asked.

  “What’s up with you today?” said Lindsay. “You’re acting weird. Weirder than usual, that is.”

  Carrie responded by hurling the pillow at Lindsay and missed, catching Rebecca off guard.

  “Touchy,” Lindsay retorted. “You almost hit me. And you know that Rebecca’s mom would hate getting glitter all over her stuff.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking,” Carrie said. She turned to Lindsay and smiled at her friend’s bright pink glittery top. She shook her head.

  “Well, that’s a change for you,” Rebecca teased.

  “Lucky for you, I ran out of pillows,” Carrie replied with a fake pout.

  “Ooh, I’m so scared!” Rebecca stuck her tongue out at Carrie, who stuck hers out in reply.

  “What were you thinking about?” Lindsay asked.

  “Well, something strange happened yesterday,” Carrie began. She told her friends about how she and Finnigan had seen the fox, and how she had stopped her dog from catching it. She even told them about how she thought the fox had bowed to her in gratitude, though she felt really silly saying it.

  “Weird, huh?” Carrie asked when she had finished her story.

  Lindsay and Rebecca were silent for a moment.

  “Well?” Carrie pressed her friends.

  “Do you remember those stories we’d write? The ones we’d make up with the talking animals, the strange worlds, all that stuff?” Lindsay asked her, her blue eyes wide open.

  Carrie did remember. When the three of them had been younger, they would gather together at recess and make up stories involving faraway lands that they would enter through the trees that grew along the fence of the school playground. Their imaginations would transport them so effectively that, once the bell rang signalling the end of recess, a teacher would usually have to go out and retrieve them for class. Much to the chagrin of the girls, their parents would receive calls home and then lecture them about the importance of responsibility and the dangers of being too focused on their daydreams.

  “I remember those stories,” Carrie said. She could see how excited her friend was.

  “Well, what happened with your fox guy sounds like one of them,” Lindsay told her.

  Rebecca nodded in agreement.

  “But I’m not making this up,” Carrie protested. She was mildly hurt. She had thought that of all people, they would believe her.

  “We’re not saying you were making it up,” Rebecca assured her. “It just sounds strange. That’s all.”

  “Maybe the fox was just behaving like a fox,” Lindsay added. “I mean, how much do we know about foxes? How many have you seen? They don’t really invade backyards all that often, right?”

  “I guess…” Carrie said. Her hand unconsciously found her necklace again and began twisting it around and around.

  “Lindsay’s right,” Rebecca said. “We’re talking about a wild animal. We know nothing about it, and I highly doubt any of us have done much research on foxes. It’s not like Finnigan. We know your dog and have a fairly good idea about what behaviour is normal for him and what would be out of the ordinary, right?”

  Carrie nodded. What her friends were saying made sense, but a part of her was not so convinced. She had been hoping for something more interesting, more different, more magical about that fox. Its behaviour had made it seem not to be an ordinary animal at all. She knew that there was something odd, something not quite right about it.

  Shrugging off the feeling that she was missing something important, some clue as to what had actually happened that day, Carrie changed the topic of conversation. Soon she and her friends were planning what they hoped would be an epic trip to Niagara Falls. She hoped her eighteen-year-old car would survive the drive.

  Chapter Three

  Bobe-mayse

  Carrie slammed the door of her old Fiat. The car was so old she was surprised it s
till ran, and it was held together by a combination of duct tape and sheer will. It was painted an odd shade of eggplant and had a taupe interior—certainly an ugly car—but since it got her from point A to point B, she was happy with it, and so were her friends. It had been three days since she had stopped Finnigan from catching the fox. In that time, she had seen neither head nor tail of it anywhere near her house. She kept her eyes open for it. Every day when she went outside, she scanned the yard before allowing her dog to go bounding out. Every time she took him for a walk, she was always peering through bushes and looking down the street, partly cautious, partly hoping she would catch a glimpse of his tawny coat. By this point, she was almost convinced he was gone for good. She assumed he had found a new neighbourhood—maybe the ravine down the street. She was a little disappointed because, if this were the case, she wouldn’t have a chance to see him again.

  Carrie was coming home from an unsuccessful shopping trip with her friends. She had gone with the purpose of finding a new pair of summery pants but had found nothing that fit her in length. She really hated having to get everything shortened and did not want to roll up whatever she bought. Finding her house key in the mess of keychains in her hand, Carrie walked over to her front door. When she had her key halfway to the lock, a strange yet familiar sensation overcame her. Dropping the keys with a loud crash, Carrie whirled around and scanned the driveway and front lawn, looking for the creature that had given her so much anxiety three days prior. She just knew he was nearby. She felt him watching her. She was certain he was there. She reached up and rubbed her goose-pimpled arms.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Carrie detected movement. She turned her head and saw a fox sitting on the driveway.

  Carrie felt the breath catch in her throat. Crap. She coughed nervously. “Um, hi there?” she said and immediately felt foolish. Stupid! Foxes don’t talk, she admonished herself.

  The fox stood up and sauntered over to her. He sat himself down again, barely a foot away from where Carrie stood.

  “You are a bold one, aren’t you?” Carrie found herself asking.

  “A degree of boldness is required when one considers the gravity of the situation,” the fox said, tilting his head to the side as he peered up at Carrie’s face.

  Carrie’s eyes widened in shock. She felt dizzy, as if the earth beneath her were tilting on its side, trying to throw her off balance. She stood stock-still, mouth agape, trying desperately to collect her thoughts and make sense of the whole situation.

  “Y—y—you,” Carrie stammered.

  “I presume you were attempting to ask if I can speak,” said the fox. “I assure you that I can. Since you saved me from your beast, I can see that you have a noble heart. I have been watching you for quite some time. You can sense my presence before I even show myself to you. Few can do this. Your instincts serve you well.”

  Carrie shook her head in disbelief. “Excuse me?” she said. “What are you talking about? I’m still having trouble with the fact that you can talk! What’s going on? Who or what exactly are you? What exactly do you want from me?”

  The fox’s ears twitched. “I apologize,” he said to Carrie. “I have gotten ahead of myself.” He bowed low, whiskers skimming the ground. “I am Adom, emissary to the king of Hadariah. Our land is in peril. I have been sent here to seek help, and I have found you.” He cocked his head to the side, sitting regally on his haunches, as if waiting for a reply.

  Carrie’s mind reeled. None of this made any sense to her. “Me?” she asked. “Why me? What can I do to help? I’m just a teenager. I really think you have the wrong person. This whole thing is ridiculous. Foxes don’t talk. There are no magical kingdoms. This is nuts. I’m nuts. Forget it.” She turned to Adom. “I’m going inside. I’m not going on a quest because a talking fox says I have to. That sounds even crazier out loud. I must be losing my mind.”

  “I never said you had to do anything,” Adom said. “The choice is yours entirely. Mankind was gifted with the ability to choose eons ago. You can help us or not. That is entirely up to you. I give you three days to think it over. At the end of that time, I will return. When I do, listen to my tale, or not. That is all I ask. Just think it over.”

  “Why? You haven’t told me anything,” Carrie said. Inside, she was both thrilled and terrified. All her life she had been hoping for proof magic was real. Now that she was faced with it, she didn’t know what to do.

  “I will return and tell all. Now I must go.” With that, Adom turned away and disappeared, leaving Carrie standing at her front door looking and feeling utterly bewildered.

  “I must be going crazy,” Carrie muttered to herself. She scanned the area and having convinced herself she was indeed alone, bent to retrieve her keys from the ground. After a few wrong attempts, she managed to put her key in the lock and let herself into the house.

  * * *

  All her life, Carrie had secretly hoped for something to happen to her. She and her friends had always been accused of living outside reality, but Carrie felt that life was simply more interesting that way. Carrie had a secret dream, a dream where she discovered that the magic worlds she, Lindsay, and Rebecca created as young girls were real. Now she was faced with actual proof of this, and it frightened her more than she thought possible.

  Carrie lay on the old, beat-up sofa in her basement, surrounded by the posters of old movies her mother had allowed her to hang there. Finnigan was lying on top of her stomach. He looked at her and yawned directly in her face in the large, wide-mouthed way that only a dog can do. Carrie wrinkled her nose at the smell of his breath.

  “I’m sorry if I’m boring you,” she said to her dog. “You smell foul, you know that? I’d swear that you somehow got into the garbage again. You’re worse than the raccoons around here.” Carrie sighed. “Just…I don’t know. It would be so much easier if you talked too. Do you? Of course you don’t. I’m not making any sense. No sense at all. None. Nada. Jeez, I sound like a complete moron. I’m sorry, Finn. Foxes don’t talk any more than you do. I should call Becca and Lindsay. I really should. But they’ll just think I’m totally weird. Beyond weird. Nuts, crazy, whackadoo, totally insane even.”

  Finnigan yawned again as if in reply and jumped off Carrie. He landed, stretched, and walked off, leaving her alone in the basement. She heard him run up the stairs and click across the kitchen’s tiled floor.

  “Right. I need to get off my butt and deal with this. Okay.” Carrie got off the couch and picked up the phone. It rang twice before she heard a click on the other end.

  “Lindsay?” Carrie asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “We need to talk. I have such a story for you. Can I come over?”

  “Sure. Of course,” Lindsay replied. “What’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you when I get there. I’ll pick up Becca on the way. I’ll see you soon.”

  With that, Carrie hung up the phone. Things finally seemed clear to her. She knew exactly what she was going to do. In three days, she would go on a quest, and with any luck, she would do so with her two best friends by her side.

  Chapter Four

  Sipporim ve Emunah Tfelah

  Carrie chewed her bottom lip nervously. She had just finished telling her friends about Adom’s return and strange request. She stared intently at Rebecca and Lindsay as they processed what she had told them. Lindsay looked thoughtful as she played with the hem of her pink T-shirt. Rebecca looked incredulously at Carrie as if she thought her friend had lost her mind.

  “No way! Not a chance!” Rebecca finally said, breaking the silence and folding her arms across her chest.

  “Come on!” Lindsay whined at her.

  “No!” Rebecca was adamant.

  “Why not?” Lindsay asked, for what felt like the twelfth time that night.

  “Someone has to be the voice of reason. This is crazy!” Rebecca retorted.

  Carrie, Rebecca, and Lindsay sat on Lindsay’s backyard patio. Carrie and Rebecca each occupied a plast
ic lawn chair. Lindsay perched on the wooden railing that surrounded the deck.

  Carrie sat and listened to Rebecca and Lindsay arguing over all she had told them. She cringed at their heated debate. She always hated conflict of any type.

  “Come on!” Lindsay protested. “What’s wrong with going over to Carrie’s house in a few days and just seeing what happens?”

  “This whole thing is stupid. Animals don’t talk. There is no such thing as a different dimension, alternate existence, a magic world, or anything like that at all. It’s all dumb,” Rebecca snapped. “Carrie must’ve had heatstroke or was exhausted or something.”

  “Hey!” Carrie exclaimed. “I’m sitting right here!”

  “That’s not fair,” Lindsay replied. “Where’s your sense of fun? Animals used to talk to us all the time. We used to love to go to magical worlds. Don’t you remember any of that?” Lindsay put on a huge pout.

  “I’m just saying, we aren’t babies anymore,” Rebecca retorted. “This is just crazy. Besides, we made those stories up!”

  “C’mon! You know Carrie wouldn’t lie to us like this,” Lindsay said. “Why don’t you want to at least see if this fox will return? What are you afraid of? You used to love things that were magical. Things that were fantastic.”

  “Lindsay’s right,” Carrie said. She glared at her friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to Rebecca. When they had been younger, she had been the best at playing pretend. All their made-up stories had to be accurate, according to her. She knew all these awesome stories with fantastical creatures that had magical powers living in this enchanted world. She had told them that these stories had come from her bubbie, her mother’s mother who had lived with them up until her death.

  “We’re not babies anymore,” Rebecca said petulantly. “That stuff was all well and good when we were, like, ten. But now we have to grow up.”