All Out--The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens throughout the Ages

by Saundra Mitchell

  A loud splash followed by raucous barking filled Ella’s ears.

  “Virgil!” she shouted, hiking her skirts to her knees and running toward the sound. But when the barking was joined by laughter, she skidded to a halt. Goose bumps spread across her skin, and her heart sped up like a rabbit’s.

  She crept forward, her legs shaky as she pressed herself against a pine tree and peeked around it.

  A wide creek cut through the forest, its banks steep and sloping into huge shards of slate rock that rose from the water. Virgil was perched on top of one of the stones in the middle of the creek, bathed in the light coming from a blue lantern set on the other side of the bank.

  Virgil barked, crouching down, his tail wagging furiously. Ella watched as the water below him broke and a girl bobbed to the surface, her laughter filling the air, twining with Virgil’s happy barks.

  The girl’s back was to Ella, so all Ella could see was a tangle of wet dark hair floating around her. She raised her hands out of the water, her fingers moving in a complicated dance. A strange hum filled the air, and Virgil froze, staring at the water as ribbons of light rose from the surface of the pool.

  Ella’s eyes widened as she realized it wasn’t light but gold dust, beckoned from the water as if by magic. The fragments and flakes glinted in the lantern light, wrapping around the girl’s hands like a friendly cat’s tail.

  How was she doing this? Was it some sort of trick—or were the old stories true? The whispers of creatures whom the forest welcomed, ones who guarded the mountain, keeping it safe.

  Ella stumbled backward, her foot landing on a branch that broke, the crack echoing through the clearing. Both the girl’s and Virgil’s heads whipped toward the sound and Virgil barked, bounding off the rocks and toward the bank. The girl did not follow, but instead stared into the forest, as if she could see through the trees...as if she could see through Ella.

  Virgil had sniffed Ella out and galloped up to her, planting his muddy paws on her stomach, his fur soaked through. Ella grabbed his collar, tying the lead tightly around it. She was just about to turn and run when a musical voice broke out through the quickening darkness.

  “I like your dog.”

  Ella didn’t know what to say—or if she should say anything at all. She licked her lips, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth was.

  “It’ll be dark before you know it,” the girl continued. “Do you have a light?”

  Ella screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, even though she was hidden from the girl’s line of sight from the trees—unless she really could see through them like some sort of witch.

  Virgil barked, and Ella opened her eyes. In front of her was a bobbing cloud of gold dust, imbued with a light that glimmered and glowed. Her stomach twisted, partly in fear, partly in wonder. There was something strangely beautiful about it—like a golden dust devil.

  “That’ll guide you to the edge of the forest,” the girl said.

  Ella heard splashing behind her, like someone pulling herself out of the water. She peered around the tree and for the first time, she got a good look at the girl.

  She wore a strange sort of dress, no more than a shift, really, that left her arms and shoulders bare despite the chill in the air. Her dark hair fell in wet ropes down to her waist, untamed by braids or ribbons. Her eyes were large and green, her small nose pointed, and her chin stubborn. But most extraordinary, the thing that made Ella’s stomach drop, was the golden sheen of her skin, specks of gold sprinkled there like freckles, sparkling in the lantern light. When the girl lifted her wet hair off her neck, Ella saw long stripes shimmering on her back, as if someone had dipped a paintbrush in molten gold and stroked it down her skin.

  The girl’s eyes lifted, meeting Ella’s, who sucked in a breath, flattening herself against the tree.

  “You should go.” The cloud of gold dust shimmered, as if it agreed.

  Ella shivered and silently obeyed, tugging on Virgil’s lead, following the gold light as it drifted through the pines, guiding her back home. When she reached the edge of the forest, the cloud bent into a ribbon, like the ones the girl had summoned, sped back through the trees and disappeared.

  Ella stared, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She hadn’t imagined it—she knew that much to be true.

  Which meant...

  She didn’t know what it meant, she told herself firmly, tightening her fingers around Virgil’s lead. She marched down the road, trying to ignore how the hairs on the back of her arms were still standing straight up, even when she arrived at their cabin.

  A candle was lit in the window, and she could see the silhouette of her father through the curtains, a bottle raised to his lips, like always.

  Ella shut Virgil in the barn with her father’s horse and their milk cow, Betsy, before smoothing a hand over her hair—it must look a fright—and opening the rough-hewn cabin door.

  “Where’ve you been?” her father slurred. “Where’s my dinner?”

  “I’m sorry, Papa,” she said. “Virgil got away from me. I had to chase after him.”

  He sighed, taking a swig from a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He’d been to town, then. Had he spent all his gold on spirits, or had he thought to leave her enough for the flour and salt pork she needed? Mr. Teller, the man who owned the general store, wouldn’t give her credit anymore. Not until she’d settled her account. And there was only so much she could do when her father drank away any gold he pulled from the creeks.

  Getting through this winter seemed harder every day. By next week, there wouldn’t be a cup of flour to be found. There hadn’t been salt in the house for weeks, and the last time she’d had a pig to butcher, her Mama was still alive.

  Ella kneaded the dough for the few biscuits she’d scraped together, folding it eight times, like she’d been taught. As her father sat by the window, drinking silently, she placed the biscuits on the cast iron griddle, put it in the oven and fried up the last of the salt pork. A few minutes passed in silence, Ella still dazed by the image of the golden girl.

  “It’s ready, Papa,” she said, setting a plate on the rough-hewn table.

  He grunted, getting up and sitting down at the head of the table. He ate quickly, and then without another word, left the room, heading to bed.

  Ella waited until she could hear his snores from his bedroom, and then sneaked out to the barn with the scraps of her meal gathered in her apron. Virgil pranced back and forth when he smelled the food, licking at her hands as she fed him his meager dinner.

  Late into the night, she stayed in the barn despite the cold, Virgil’s head in her lap. She knew she wouldn’t be missed, because her father had forgotten how to miss people...or maybe he’d never learned.

  * * *

  The second snow brought the cold and Christmas, and Ella spent long days on the gold claim, her father silent and stony, Virgil her only friendly companion. She took in sewing from some of the ladies in town, chipping away at the debt at the general store. Mr. Teller was kind about it, slipping her small packets of food when she least expected it.

  The winter was long, and it was March before the snow finally melted for good, the green of the forest peeking through the drifts. Ella was grateful for the sun, for the coming warmth and spring. Winter was all cold and hunger, stretching food as far as she could, ignoring her father’s angry grumbles.

  Sometimes, at night, Ella thought ahead, to the next winter, and her stomach churned. She’d gotten used to the pains in her stomach, but her bones stuck out under her skin now, and her dresses hung off her like sacks. She wouldn’t survive another winter like the last, so she made a plan.

  One afternoon, she waited until her father was deep in the bottle before sneaking out to the barn where he kept his mining pans. She packed two of them, along with a blanket, a flint and some dried meat. With Virgil in tow, she slipp
ed into the North Woods, her desperation finally greater than her fear.

  “Find the creek, boy,” she whispered to Virgil.

  Maybe it was foolish to let a dog lead, but she had no cloud of gold to follow this time, and Virgil had found the creek the first time.

  His nose to the ground, ecstatic at being free in the forest, Virgil pulled her through the trees—and Ella followed.

  It seemed as if they walked for hours. There were times she was sure they’d passed the same spot two, three times. But just when she was sure he was taking her in circles, the sound of water splashing down slate rock filled her ears.

  Ella felt a burst of triumph. They’d found it!

  She approached the creek cautiously, but then when she saw no one near, she scrambled down the bank, pack in hand. Virgil splashed ahead of her, lapping up water before climbing the rocks to sun himself.

  Ella set her pack next to the water and untied the pans from her rucksack. She straightened, about to hoist her skirts and wade into the water when a voice rang out. “Don’t!”

  Ella jerked in surprise, her eyes searching the creek, trying to find the source.

  The girl flecked with gold stepped out from the shadow of the forest. Her hair was as wet and unruly as before, the gold in her skin luminous in the light that filtered through the trees.

  Ella wanted to run away and move forward at the same time. It was a strange, torn feeling that overcame her, making her heart flutter. “Why not?” she asked, surprised at how steady her voice was.

  The girl’s head tilted. “It’s not yours to take.”

  Ella frowned. “Is this your claim, then?”

  “It’s mine to protect,” the girl said.

  “I don’t see you working it,” Ella said, because the winter had taught her to be ruthless. The cold had settled in her bones and the hunger still gnawed at her dreams, whispering that soon, all would be lost. “You got papers?”

  “Humans deal in laws and papers,” the girl replied. “We have no need.”

  There was a chilling note in her voice, one that made Ella remember the tales of the North Woods, the lost men who never came back, the whispers of the guardians of the mountain who knew the forest better than any human soul.

  “So, are you going to stop me?” Ella asked, propping her hands on her hips.

  The girl’s eyes widened. Even from across the creek, Ella could see how green they were, like pine needles in winter, a deep, dark color that spoke of secrets. “If I must.”

  Ella moved forward, toward the water, and the girl’s hands flew up. “Don’t!” she said again, this time with true fear. It made the hair on the back of Ella’s neck rise. “If you step into the water, you can’t go back.”

  Ella stopped, her eyebrows drawing together. “You’re lying. Virgil came back.”

  “Animals are different,” the girl said. “If you want to see for yourself, you’re welcome to wade in. But if you do, you’re ours.”

  Ella shivered, stumbling back a few steps. She sat down hard on the creek bank, dread filling her.

  What was she to do if she couldn’t get the gold she needed? Her father was useless. Now that the snow had melted, he spent more time at the saloon than up at the claim. Winter would be here again before she knew it. They’d starve or freeze or maybe both if she didn’t do something.

  Tears filled her eyes and she struggled to hold them back, not wanting to cry in front of the girl, who looked at her like she was something strange and fascinating.

  “You have no greed in your heart,” the girl said.

  Ella sniffed, still trying—and failing—to hold back her tears. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The girl smiled, and for some reason, the way it lit her eyes soothed the twist of despair in Ella’s stomach. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Without another word, the girl dived smoothly into the pool of water below, disappearing beneath the surface. Ella leaped to her feet, and, as the seconds stretched, began to worry. She hovered near the water’s edge, but the girl’s warning was fresh in her mind, and she didn’t dare venture farther.

  Suddenly, the girl bobbed up, water dripping down her face as she swam to Ella’s side of the bank. She walked out of the water, toward Ella, and again that curious feeling of wanting to run away and rush forward filled her. This close, she could see every gold freckle, every gilded streak. The weave of her dress was rough, but the cloth itself looked impossibly soft, even soaked with water.

  The girl held out her fist, uncurling her fingers. Nestled in her hand were four nuggets, all the size of Ella’s thumb.

  Ella gasped. “How do you do that? What...what are you?”

  The girl just smiled, reaching over and taking Ella’s hands. Warmth spread through her, which was odd, because the girl’s skin was cool. She pressed the nuggets into Ella’s palm and they seemed to buzz against her skin, not angrily, but pleasantly.

  “You just have to do one thing for me,” the girl said.

  “What’s that?” Ella asked.

  The girl smiled, her eyes filling with a sly sort of mischief. “Bring your dog back for a visit some time?”

  * * *

  Ella told no one. As spring melted into summer, she paid off her debt at the general store and then some. Her father couldn’t be bothered to notice much, and when she told him she’d taken in some more sewing, he believed that was the reason they suddenly had proper food and even a small flock of chickens.

  Once a week, Ella slipped into the North Woods. She no longer needed Virgil to guide her, the invisible paths of the forest becoming familiar, only to her. Most days, Oriana—for that was her name—was already waiting for her.

  They would lay on the sun-warm rocks on the creek bank and stare up at the bits of sky visible through the canopy of leaves that towered above them. They would toss sticks for Virgil to chase and laugh when he shook water from his coat all over them.

  Once, when Ella arrived, Oriana was nowhere to be found. She waited until nearly dusk, her heart pounding strangely in her chest with each minute that passed without the golden girl’s arrival. It was strange to think, but she felt more at home here, with Oriana by her side, than in her real home.

  When Ella returned the next week, worried that an empty creek bank would await her, a glorious sort of happiness settled inside her when she saw Oriana already there.

  “You came,” Ella said.

  “I’m sorry about before,” Oriana said. “I had a meeting.”

  “I didn’t know you had meetings,” Ella said. Oriana wasn’t very forthcoming about certain things. Ella knew there were others like her, who guarded parts of the forest, and even others who guarded the mountain itself. But Oriana would get quiet if Ella asked too many questions, so she tried not to push.

  “Not always,” Oriana said. “Only when the elders are concerned.”

  Ella frowned. “Are you in trouble?”

  Oriana looked down at her hands, biting her lip. “They’re not happy you keep coming back.”

  Ella’s stomach sank. The idea of never coming back, never seeing Oriana again... She’d rather spend a thousand winters half-starved and huddling next to Virgil for warmth.

  “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Ella whispered.

  Oriana shook her head. “It’s not your fault. They think you’re all the same. I thought so, too. Until...”

  She reached over and took Ella’s hand in hers, stroking her fingers down the inside of her palm. Ella gasped, every feeling in her body focused on that spot, and when Oriana pulled away, Ella’s skin glistened with gold.

  “They can’t do anything unless you cross the water,” Oriana said.

  “And if I do?” Ella asked, because there were nights when it was all she dreamed about. She dreamed of seeing Oriana every day, playing with Virgil together. She closed her eyes
and saw lazy days in the forest, floating in the water, talking, touching, her loneliness becoming just a memory.

  “Then you’re ours,” Oriana said. “Then you’re mine.”

  “Is that so bad?” Ella couldn’t help but wonder. She thought she might like belonging to Oriana. For Oriana to belong to her.

  “It’s a choice,” Oriana said softly. “It’s a different life.”

  Ella thought of Oriana spinning the gold out of the water, at the strands of gold dust that she’d twist into animal shapes, dancing them across the water to make her laugh. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

  * * *

  As fall settled over Pollard Flat, Ella faced the coming snow with dread.

  “It’ll start storming soon,” she told Oriana at the creek. Virgil lay between them, his tongue lolling out as Oriana rubbed his stomach. “Once it snows, I won’t be able to come until it’s spring again.”

  Oriana stilled, a stricken look falling over her face. The gold flecks spread across her nose seemed to dim for a second. “I didn’t realize,” she said.

  “I wish it wasn’t so,” Ella said quickly. “But the snow gets too deep up at the claim.”

  “You’ll come back as soon as the snow melts, though, won’t you?” Oriana asked.

  Ella placed her hand over Oriana’s. “Promise,” she said.

  * * *

  It was nearly Christmas when her father discovered the stash of gold hidden in her room. His yelling filled the cabin, and he accused her of horrible things: whoring, stealing, milking his claim dry. The gold dust scattered across the floor as he threw his hands in the air, and all Ella could think of was Oriana, of the beauty of her gift, of the generosity of her soul.

  Her father finally drank himself to sleep, still muttering about how Ella’s mama would have been ashamed of her. Ella waited until he was out cold before she made her move. She didn’t pack much—a few extra dresses, a bedroll, her mama’s pearl brooch—before she and Virgil headed out into the night.