Free Red by Liesl Shurtliff

Goldie,” I said.
    “Oh. Yes, of course.” She whipped around, and we continued along the river.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Bend in the River
    “I didn’t ever think we’d be friends,” said Goldie, hopping from a log to a stone. Then she darted to a patch of buttercups and picked a handful.
    “I didn’t, either,” I said. Our reunion seemed to renew Goldie’s boisterous energy, making her as dizzying and annoying as ever, but I took it all in stride. Goldie said we were friends. No one except Rump had ever called me that, and I found it gave me a sort of warm, sweet feeling inside.
    “Everyone told me to stay away from you, because of your name.” She twirled a buttercup between her fingers. “And also because they said you’re a witch, of course, but I think that just goes to show they didn’t really know you. You’re a little scary at first, but that’s mostly because you frown a lot.”
    “I frown a lot?”
    “Yes, you’re frowning now.” Goldie spun around me, then skipped ahead of me. She was like a hummingbird. She darted this way and that, taking twenty steps for every one of mine, and prattling a hundred words for each of mine. She was a girl who magnified and multiplied everything, and yet it had the backward effect of exhausting me while energizing her.
    “I’m hungry,” said Goldie. “Do you have any food?”
    “Catch!” I tossed a few of the berries from my apron pocket, and they all bounced off her face. “Almost. Try again.” I threw just one berry, and Goldie caught it in her mouth. I rewarded her with a handful, which she promptly devoured.
    “Do you think you can sense red things like I sense golden things?” she asked, juice running down her mouth.
    “Maybe,” I said. I had never really thought about this, but it seemed reasonable. I did find a lot of wild raspberries and strawberries and plums, but I always assumed they were simply plentiful in The Woods and easy to find and it had little to do with destiny. Destiny wasn’t something I was so certain about anyway. I knew names were powerful, and sometimes things happened that we had no control over, but I disliked the idea that I couldn’t determine my own future. I wanted to decide for myself how things would go for me. I supposed that was why I was here now, searching for a magic well, because destiny had delivered bad news. I was going to give destiny a good punch in the face.
    “I’m still hungry,” said Goldie when the berries were gone. “Maybe we can catch some fish.” She started toward the water.
    “Don’t be stupid,” I said. “Don’t you remember the sprites?”
    Goldie scowled. “I remember the sprites. I just thought maybe some fish would be nice.”
    I looked away, remorse needling me. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just thought you might have forgotten.”
    “Well, I didn’t,” she said. “I never forget anything.” She lifted her chin and walked faster. So I walked faster, too, and then she went faster, so I went faster, and then Goldie ran, so I ran, too. We raced down the river. I pulled ahead of Goldie, and I was pretty proud of myself until—
    Schleeeoop!
    I sank into the ground up to my knees. Goldie stopped just short of the mud puddle. “Golly glops! What a mess!” She plugged her nose.
    It smelled like goat dung, and it looked like it, too, sort of a brownish green with streaks of yellow. A toad croaked and hopped away. I had clearly invaded her home. Well, I had no objection to leaving. I pulled my legs up, but one shoe stayed in the mud. I had to dig down to get it out. It came loose with a great squelchy slurp and splattered mud all over my face.
    Goldie stifled a laugh. So I grabbed a handful of mud and flung it at her face. She stopped laughing. I chuckled and pulled myself free of the bog, then a glob of mud smacked me in the back of the head. I felt the muck dripping down my hair. I turned around to Goldie. She was brushing off her hands with a satisfied smirk.
    “You know what