Waiting for the Night Song

by Julie Carrick Dalton

  Cadie spun back around. She fought the blush rising up from her chest, consuming her face. Even her forearms turned red, and the translucent hairs from her neck all the way down to her wrist stood on end.

  She stared at a puddle forming around her Coke from the beads of condensation sliding down the glass. She twisted a paper straw wrapper with her berry-stained fingers.

  Daniela straightened her back as the group of young men walked toward the counter on their way to the door.

  “Hola, chula,” one of the younger guys, who looked about seventeen, said to Daniela. He leaned on the counter next to her, putting his face close to hers.

  Daniela had perfect skin and soft brown eyes. She looked fifteen, even though she wouldn’t turn thirteen for months. None of them acknowledged Cadie. Despite her flaming hair, she often imagined her translucent skin made her invisible to most boys. But not to Garrett.

  Daniela swiveled her seat and turned her back to them. Clyde walked past them, not acknowledging them, toward the door.

  Cadie focused on the puddle of water expanding around her glass, getting closer and closer to the scrunched-up straw wrapper. With a few more drops of water, the pool would overtake the paper.

  “Not worth your time,” said a tall skinny boy in a plaid shirt. “This one might look Mexican, but she’s white as her friend.”

  Another drop, then two more, slunk down the hourglass-shaped glass.

  Daniela spun around. “I’m not Mexican.”

  The skinny guy threw his hands up in mock apology. “Oh, okay. Two white girls having lunch.”

  “Leave us alone,” Daniela said through clenched teeth.

  “I see you, coconut,” the skinny boy said.

  “Basta,” said the fourth man, in his mid-twenties, short and stocky. He pulled two crumpled bills from his pocket and slipped them under the edge of the blueberry-stained plates for Angie.

  The stocky man stepped between his friends and Daniela, blocking her from their snickers as they headed for the door. He had a square face and wide-set eyes. He turned back to Daniela when his friends weren’t looking and wagged his fingers at her as if he were casting a spell. She copied his motion and held her fingers up to touch the tips of his.

  “See you,” he said with a heavy accent and gentle lisp that made him sound younger than he looked.

  “What was that?” Cadie spun around on her stool to face Daniela.

  “Secret handshake.” Daniela sipped her Coke, not looking back at Cadie.

  “Why do you have a secret handshake with that guy?”

  “Juan.”

  “With Juan.”

  “He works in my dad’s store sometimes too. Whenever my dad starts bossing me around, which is, like, all the time, Juan hides where my dad can’t see him and waves like that. He tries to make me laugh.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “He’s funny, I guess. He comes to the house for dinner a lot with some of the older guys who work on Crittenden Farm. Mom likes him because he eats a lot. Dad says he doesn’t have any family or anything. That blond guy gives me the creeps, though. I don’t care how nice Angie thinks he is.”

  “Why’d you tell them you aren’t Mexican?”

  Daniela’s jaw dropped open. She curled the left side of her upper lip into an angry Elvis. “Cuz I’m not Mexican.”

  Another bead of water rolled down Cadie’s Coke glass, testing the surface tension of the anxious puddle. It looked ready to spill across the counter at any second.

  “But, I thought you said—” Cadie stammered. “I mean, your parents speak Spanish.”

  “We’re from El Salvador.” Daniela took a sip of her Coke and slammed the sweaty glass on the counter. “There’s a big difference.”

  The vibration of her glass shook the counter, and the puddle of condensation forming around Cadie’s Coke spilled over, enveloping the scrunched-up straw wrapper, which twisted and writhed as it absorbed the water.

  Cadie watched the men cross the road and disperse. Juan stayed behind as the others turned toward the rec center. Clyde picked up a stone and hurled it at a cluster of birds bathing in a puddle.

  “What an asshole,” Daniela said.

  “Yeah, but, I guess we have to be nice to those guys now,” Cadie said.

  “Why?”

  “The berries. We’re bound to them for life.”

  “You are the most gullible person I have ever met.”

  Through the large open window in the front of the diner, Cadie and Daniela watched Juan walk toward the hardware store Daniela’s family owned. He kicked a small stone, rolling his foot over it, around it, with perfect control.

  Daniela’s father stood in the doorway wearing the faded Garcia’s Hardware baseball cap he always wore in the store. His face turned red and he kicked at the welcome mat outside the door as the conversation with Juan escalated into an argument. Juan gestured wildly, his hands pumping in the air.

  “Why are your dad and Juan yelling at each other?”

  Daniela shrugged.

  “Don’t you understand Spanish?”

  “Geez, will you stop it. I’m American. I speak English. Just like you.” Daniela spun to face away from Cadie.

  Angie pushed through the swinging door. “Refills?”

  “No thanks,” Cadie said without looking up.

  “I’ll take one.” Daniela pushed her empty glass toward Angie. “Cadie and I were thinking we could double how many berries we pick. If you want to buy them.”

  Cadie opened her mouth, but no words came.

  “Fantastic. You’ve got a deal, ladies.”

  Daniela stuck her jaw out and raised her eyebrows, daring Cadie to challenge her.

  10

  THAT SUMMER

  “No matches in the woods,” Cadie said as Daniela laid her supplies out on the rock the following morning. “We don’t want to start a fire.”

  “I know. I know. We’ll do it in the lake.”

  Friar paced on the rock instead of lying down to wait for them as he usually did. He forced his head under Cadie’s arm as she untied the boat. He barked twice as the girls stepped into the boat.

  “Quiet, boy.”

  “Maybe we should take him with us,” Daniela said.

  “He’d bark at every loon that swam by. We don’t want to attract attention,” Cadie said.

  “Sorry, boy. We’ll be back soon.” Cadie rubbed Friar’s ears. He lay down on the rock, rested his head on his crossed front paws, and waited.

  As they made their way inside the mouth of the biggest part of the cove, Daniela dropped her oar inside the boat.

  “If we’re going to do this, we have to mean it,” Daniela said. “First, we each need to share a deep, dark secret, something no one else knows.”

  Cadie dug into her sheltered life searching for a secret, mining her memories for something worthy of the oath they were about to take.

  “I peed in my sleeping bag at Girl Scout camp in third grade?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’ve never been outside of New Hampshire?”

  “Nope. It has to be something big,” Daniela said.

  She considered telling Daniela about Garrett’s notes and the kiss, but she wanted to keep those secrets a little longer. She liked replaying everything he had said to her, how he had looked at her. Reading and rereading his notes. They were meant for her alone. And, she suspected, Daniela wanted something darker.

  “Well, there’s one thing.” Cadie hesitated. Clouds churned over themselves, casting a shadow over the mountains behind Cadie’s home. “You’d never tell? Like, ever?”

  “That’s the whole point. If you break a blood oath, you are cursed for the rest of your life.”

  Cadie sat up straight and planted her palms on her knees. The boat rolled gently with a hypnotic rise and fall. Daniela leaned closer with eyebrows arched high.

  “My grandparents are Quakers, which means they hate war.”

  “That’s your big secret?”


  “No. My parents aren’t religious at all, but when Dad got drafted for Vietnam, my parents told everyone they were Quakers so Dad wouldn’t have to go fight, but the government didn’t believe him.” An uncomfortable feeling brewed in her stomach. “So they ran away to Canada and worked on some farm, a commune or something, for three years, so my dad wouldn’t have to go fight in a war he didn’t believe in.”

  “Wow.”

  “But that’s not everything.” Cadie sucked in a deep breath and leaned closer to Daniela. “When he came back to the US, he went to jail for dodging the draft.”

  Daniela nodded approvingly and they floated silently for a few minutes. Woolly clouds that had been gathering over the mountains edged their way toward the lake, stirring a breeze.

  “My turn,” Daniela said. “This is really serious.”

  “More serious than jail?”

  “A lot more serious.” Daniela’s pupils, dark and deep, sucked the light from the sky and reflected nothing back.

  Hairs prickled up on Cadie’s arms and neck.

  Daniela sat cross-legged and leaned forward toward Cadie. Her fingertips pushed against the bottom of the boat as she balanced on arched claws.

  “My family’s here illegally.”

  “What’d you do that’s illegal?”

  Daniela rolled her eyes. “We didn’t do anything. We just aren’t supposed to be here. If the police find out, they could make us leave. We’d lose the store, my parents could go to jail, and I don’t even know what would happen to me.”

  “Why would they make you leave?”

  “You can’t just come here from another country and walk in like ‘Hi, I’m here.’ You have to go through the court or the government or something.”

  “Then why didn’t you do that?”

  “We just couldn’t. But it would be really bad if people found out.” Daniela pulled her knees up to her chest. “I’d have to leave and never come back.”

  Cadie couldn’t imagine being separated from her family, forced to move to another country. The weight of Daniela’s secret fell heavy on Cadie. The boat spun gently on an invisible current, shifting Cadie’s perspective of the familiar shoreline. Her own worries shriveled and sank to the bottom of the lake.

  “I’ll never tell anyone for as long as I live,” Cadie whispered, and pulled Daniela into an embrace.

  “Are you crying?” Daniela asked after Cadie sat back and wiped her face.

  “I don’t want you to leave.” Cadie felt the blush rising up her chest and neck. “Why’d you trust me with something like that?”

  “Because you’re my best friend,” Daniela said.

  Cadie wiped her face and sat up straight.

  “Are you ready?” Daniela opened her backpack and pulled out a pocketknife, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, matches stolen from the hardware store, and two Band-Aids. She spread them out on the bottom of the boat.

  “And The Poachers’ Code.” Daniela pulled out a sheet of paper with the list of rules Cadie had been working on all summer. Daniela had copied them with a calligraphy pen. Around the edges Daniela had drawn a frame of delicate blueberry clusters.

  “Did you trace those?” Cadie admired the details.

  “Nope.” Daniela pressed her lips together to hide her smile.

  Daniela opened her father’s Swiss Army knife and placed the blade on her thigh. She handed Cadie the matches. “Light the match and hold it under the knife.”

  Although Cadie had watched her father light thousands matches for his pipe, she had never struck one herself. She didn’t know how to hold the matchstick or how hard to strike it. The first attempt left a gray smudge on the red strip on the end of the matchbox, emitting a weak puff of sulfur.

  With sweaty palms and clumsy fingers, Cadie adjusted her grip. The second time, moving her thumb closer to the head of the match, she swiped it across the red strip with conviction. The matchstick erupted.

  “Hold it still.” Daniela guided the tip of the knife under the flame. When it fizzled, Cadie struck another match and continued blackening the tip of the knife.

  “Alcohol,” Daniela said. Cadie poured alcohol on two cotton balls, wiped the blade clean, and dumped a splash over the knife. Daniela folded a paper towel and rested it on her knee. “Want me to do yours first?” she said.

  “I guess.” Cadie handed the knife back to Daniela.

  “Put your thumb facing up on the paper towel.”

  Cadie rubbed alcohol on her thumb and put it on Daniela’s knee. Daniela gripped the hilt and stared at Cadie’s hand.

  “Shit. I can’t do it,” Daniela said.

  “Give me your hand.”

  Daniela let Cadie grab her limp hand and wash her thumb with alcohol.

  “Are you ready?” Cadie said.

  “Yeah.” Daniela gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. “Do it.”

  She knew Daniela expected her to chicken out. The knife cut through Daniela’s skin more easily than she expected. The gash opened and a bubble of blood burst out and flowed down Daniela’s hand and wrist.

  “Shit, Cadie. You actually did it.”

  Cadie doused her own left thumb with alcohol and sliced into her flesh. Dark red oozed down her thumb, but it didn’t hurt.

  Supporting her cut hand with her other hand, Daniela held up her thumb to face Cadie, who did likewise. They pressed their wounds together.

  “Repeat after me,” Daniela said. “I do solemnly swear.”

  “I do solemnly swear.”

  “To uphold The Poachers’ Code.”

  “To uphold The Poachers’ Code.”

  “To never tell.”

  “To never tell.”

  “And to take all our secrets to the grave.”

  “And to take all our secrets to the grave.”

  Cadie pressed her bloody thumb harder against Daniela’s until the beating of their hearts synched. On shore, the tall pines nodded, complicit in their oath. The tightness in Cadie’s chest loosened so that, for the first time since they left shore, she could draw in a full breath.

  They pressed bloody thumbprints on the bottom of The Poachers’ Code and each signed the paper below the oath. Daniela waved the document in the air to dry the ink and the blood.

  “You okay?” Daniela said.

  “Yeah.” Cadie put her thumb into her mouth and bit down to calm the sting.

  “You have more guts than I give you credit for,” Daniela said.

  Daniela lay on her back on the bottom of the boat, her knees bent. Cadie lay down next to her in the opposite direction so their faces were inches apart, their feet at opposing ends of the boat. The clouds stretched thin above them. Cadie sucked on her throbbing thumb, swallowing her own heartbeat.

  The boat had drifted into pebbly shallows of a small cove.

  “Do you want to swim?” Daniela said.

  Cadie wriggled out of her jean shorts and lowered herself into the lake. She scooped up a mouthful of water and spit most of it out. She swallowed a cool sip and let it slide down her throat.

  “Nice Wonder Woman undies.” Daniela leaned over the edge of the boat, looking down at Cadie in her tank top and underwear.

  “You’re jealous because your mom buys you boring underwear.”

  Daniela took her shorts off and jumped in.

  Cadie lay back against the surface of the water, letting the lake bear all of her weight. As she floated on her back with her eyes closed, she heard the muted sound of Daniela sloshing toward her. Cadie stretched her limbs out wide and thrust her chest toward the sky like an open water lily praying to the morning sun. She reached with the tips of her toes and fingers, imagining herself unfolding.

  Daniela’s hair billowed against her shoulder. When Cadie stretched her arms behind her head to make sure they didn’t collide, Daniela grabbed Cadie’s hands and they held on to each other, floating head to head like a raft. The loose curl of Daniela’s fingers around her own anchored Cadie as her legs melted in
to the lake. If she didn’t move, it felt as if her legs weren’t even there, as though her body had merged with the lake. The air, thick with honeysuckle, breezed over Cadie’s lips and open mouth.

  “Cadie.” Daniela’s voice sounded far away to Cadie’s submerged ears.

  “Yeah?”

  “I won’t ever tell either.” Daniela squeezed Cadie’s fingers.

  The cadence of water, the quiet pulse in the rise and fall, lulled Cadie into a trancelike drift. The shush of blood in her ears harmonized with the swells, syncopated by the warbling one can only hear below the surface of the lake.

  Cadie tried to imagine where they drifted, which direction she faced, whether Daniela’s eyes were closed too. She opened her eyes to see the leaves of a river birch dangling a foot above her face and jerked up just in time to stop Daniela from smashing her head on a rock poking through the surface.

  * * *

  Curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor of Daniela’s bedroom that night, Cadie fingered long strands on the shag rug as she listened to Daniela toss and turn in her bed. Moonlight through the window scattered dancing shards of light on the wall opposite the window. The light bounced off of two rings that hung on the wall. Cadie crawled out of her sleeping bag and walked over to touch the wooden hoops.

  “They’re tambourines.” Daniela sat up. “My dad hung them up when I was little. He told me fairies lived in the flashes of light and they would watch over me when I slept.”

  Cadie touched one of the hoops and the rustle of the tiny cymbals startled her.

  “The katydids are so loud tonight,” Cadie said.

  “The what?”

  “Katydids. Crickets, but their chirp is higher. Listen. It sounds like they’re saying katydid, katydid.”

  “Cadie did, Cadie did, Cadie did,” Daniela enunciated. “What did Cadie do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Do you think The Poachers’ Code is good or evil?” Daniela said.

  “It’s just words.”

  “Anything can be good or evil. Depends on how you use it,” Daniela said.