Is She for Real? by P.J. Night Page A

feel really nervous.
    Then it was her turn.
    â€œYou know what, you guys?” Bethany said nonchalantly. “I think I’ll skip Sandy Lady. Maybe I’ll wait till next year.” The girls looked at her as if she had said she never wanted to eat cookie dough again.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Lissa said.
    â€œI-I-I don’t know …,” Bethany stammered, still trying to sound like it was no big deal. “It’s just, well, I just got over being sick and all. Maybe all that dampness isn’t such a good idea.”
    â€œBut you’re fine now,” Lissa countered.
    â€œBut I was really sick,” Bethany reminded them.
    â€œBut you seem totally better,” Olivia said.
    â€œWell, I’m better, but I wouldn’t want to have a relapse.” Bethany continued to try to get out of it. She just didn’t want to go into that hole. Every cell of her body was screaming in protest.
    â€œYou won’t have a relapse,” Lily said. Well, that made three against one. Should Bethany just refuse? No, that would be too odd. And they might tell Nate that she was acting strangely with them, too.
    Thinking of Nate, she lay down in the hole.

The sand was damp and chilly. There were more rocks under the sand than there were on top of it, and the sand got coarser the deeper it was. But there she lay, and there her friends piled sand on her. It felt clammy on her body, and the burying part seemed to take forever. How many handfuls of sand did they have to put on her, anyway? It felt like a thousand. She felt the weight of the sand increase with each scoop they added, and felt increasingly claustrophobic lying there.
    She reminded herself to breathe deeply. But even that was hard, with the weight of the sand on her chest. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, the way her mom did when she did yoga. She even counted her breaths slowly, as her mom had taughther when she was little and needed to calm herself down. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
    It didn’t help much.
    â€œIsn’t it fun, Sandy Lady?” Lissa asked Bethany.
    Bethany couldn’t answer.
    â€œDo you want us to decorate you in shells?” Olivia asked her as they patted the sand down more tightly. Bethany was now completely buried. Her long hair was splayed out on the sand, but other than that, just her head showed.
    Bethany tried to nod her head no, but she couldn’t move.
    Lily smiled at her. “You look like a mermaid with your hair out like that!” she said, as if it was a compliment. All Bethany could do was try to keep breathing and wait for it to be over.
    â€œHow do you like your first Sandy Lady?” Lissa asked her.
    Bethany managed to whisper a few words.
    â€œI … changed … my mind!” she said slowly and softly.
    â€œWhat?” Lissa said.
    Bethany was finding her voice a bit better now.“Start thy digging … fair maidens … and do free me!” she whispered.
    â€œWhat’d she say?” Olivia asked. The others leaned in.
    â€œMy heart be broken … good ladies … do render me free!” she whispered.
    â€œHuh? What is she talking about?” Lissa said.
    â€œMy heart be torn in two,” Bethany continued. “And I want not to be in this cold earth.”
    Bethany was no longer buried in warm sand. Instead she was deep in cold earth. It was all rocks and hard soil, not sand and shells. She no longer smelled the carefree scents of summer: salt air, sunscreen, and the briny whiff of seaweed. Instead she smelled the rich mustiness of packed earth. She felt grubs and earthworms wriggle against her skin, and tangled roots pressing against her limbs.
    Because she was not a Sandy Lady. In fact, she was no longer Bethany.
    How could she make them understand what was happening and how much she needed to be free? And why did her left ring finger feel like it was on fire? It