Rhymes With Witches by Lauren Myracle

and stroked her hair. “Don’t be a ninny. How else would we prove how far you’ve come?”
    â€œWhy would we need to?” Mary Bryan said. “I’m serious. Can we please burn it?”
    â€œWe should certainly burn that bathing suit,” Bitsy said. “Wretched.”
    Keisha stayed serious. “Tell Jane the rest.”
    Mary Bryan’s cheeks went from red to redder. “Oh, let’s not. I mean, god. She probably already hates me.” She turned to me. “You do, don’t you?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “Of course not!” I wanted to hug her. I wanted to go back in time and make the rafting trip go away.
    â€œIf you don’t, I will,” Bitsy said.
    Mary Bryan looked like she might cry.
    â€œActually, it’s okay,” I offered. “Whatever it is, you don’t—”
    â€œJust get it over with,” Keisha said.
    Mary Bryan looped a strand of hair around her finger. “It was an accident. I’d had too much to drink.” She drew her knees to her chest. “I’d really rather not …”
    â€œShe and Chase had sex on top of a picnic table,” Bitsy said. “Lovely, yes?”
    I saw it in my mind—Mary Bryan, Chase, the picnic table—and I wished I hadn’t.
    â€œWe weren’t, like, right out in the middle of everyone,” Mary Bryan said. “It wasn’t like everyone could see.”
    I nodded. I gave her my best imitation of a smile.
    â€œI’d had too much to drink, that’s all. And it was dark. And honestly, I didn’t even …”
    â€œWe all make mistakes,” Keisha said.
    â€œThat’s right,” Mary Bryan said.
    â€œAnd we learn from those mistakes and become better people,” Bitsy said in a singsong voice. She snorted. “Either that or we get fixed, which is infinitely more effective.”
    â€œHuh?” I said.
    â€œNothing,” Keisha said. She shot Bitsy a look.
    â€œWe
are
going to tell her, aren’t we?” Bitsy asked. “She’s this year’s lucky winner, after all.”
    I knew something was going on between them. It’s not as ifmy brain passed over it. And it’s not as if I passed over the whole Mary Bryan thing, either. But I latched onto the phrase “this year’s lucky winner,” and my blood pulsed faster. I had the brief thought of asking about Sandy—Had they heard of her? What did
they
know?—but I knew I wouldn’t. It would complicate things unnecessarily.
    Keisha stood up and began collecting Diet Coke cans. “Our decision’s not final until tomorrow.” She glanced briefly at me. Almost as if she were apologizing, she said, “We had to meet with you one last time. You understand.”
    â€œSure,” I said. “Okay.”
    â€œSo we’ll let you know.”
    â€œGreat. Sounds good.”
    I hesitated, then got to my feet and helped clean up. As I was collecting Diet Coke cans, Mary Bryan approached me.
    â€œI’m not that girl anymore,” she said.
    â€œI know,” I said, because I got it. Mary Bryan had changed, and I wanted to, too.

    Bitsy took me home, with Mary Bryan and Keisha in tow. We stopped at Steak and Shake for dinner, which surprised me, but I didn’t complain. A few other kids from school were there, too. Sukie Karing. Josh Barnett. I tried to act nonchalant, but I was puffed with pride that I was the one entering with Keisha, Mary Bryan, and Bitsy. Sitting at their table. Sharing their conversation.
    â€œDouble cheeseburger, fries, and a Sprite,” Bitsy said when our waitress approached. “No, strike that. Chocolate shake.”
    â€œWhipped cream?” the waitress asked.
    â€œHell yeah,” Bitsy said. She looked at the rest of us. “What? A girl’s got to eat.”
    â€œRight, which is why your fridge is stocked with pita bread and Diet Coke,” Mary Bryan said. I could