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involved if she just went along with them. More than that, though, there was something primitively sensual about him and the way he frightened her that she felt uncomfortable discussing with her rather repressed parents. She didn’t want to  stop telling them things, however, and ruin the vicarious lives they lived through her. Elise tried to be considerate of their feelings, understanding that they probably felt cheated out of reliving their own high school experiences by the fact that her participation in student life was minimal and far outside the mainstream.
                  The conversation started predictably enough. “How was school, honey?” Elise's mother asked as Elise passed her a bottle of salad dressing.
                  “Oh, the usual-- no work the first few days, just forms to fill out,” Elise replied, busily unfolding her napkin and laying it on her lap. "I left the ones you need to sign in my blue folder on the desk in the study."
                  “Any activities look interesting?” Her father asked nonchalantly. Elise didn't miss the venomous glance her mother shot him.
                  “I have Latin club starting up right away,” Elise said as she reached for the garlic bread. “Our first field trip is in October, and we're hosting a fundraiser not too long after, so there's planning to be done for that.” She hesitated, but figured she may as well dash her father's hopes that she would get involved in sports again. “I'm thinking about playing in the orchestra for the school musical in the spring-- rumor has it they're doing Les Miserables, and I'm in love with the score.”
                  “That's nice, dear,” her mother said encouragingly, smiling at her daughter. “I would love to see you share your music with other people.”
                  “When did you hear the music for this play?” Elise's father asked, looking confused. Elise understood-- she had never been involved in Willowdale's drama club, aside from turning down the supervisor's requests to play in the orchestra in previous years, so her sudden willingness to participate was unprecedented.
                  “Remember last year, when I was using my study hall to practice on the piano in the choir room? Miss Brannon played the soundtrack, and I completely fell in love with it.”
                  “But isn't Les Miserables depressing and all about people dying?” Her mother asked, looking suddenly concerned.
                  Elise rolled her eyes. “The title translates to “The Miserable,” of course it's depressing. But it's also about love, hope, people's ability to change, and standing up for what you believe in even though you know you'll probably fail, so I think it's got some other themes, too.” She tried to keep the sarcasm in her voice to a minimum. Parental fussing she would take, but she detested when her mother played stupid.
                  Her mom sighed. “Well, I hope all the depression doesn’t rub off on you. How are the other kids this year?”
                  Elise blinked rapidly at the sudden topic shift. “Well, none are all that interesting. One or two new kids, but I suspect they won’t really travel in my circles.”
                  “You have circles?” Her father asked, eyebrows raised.
                  “Robert!” Her mother cried, casting him a furious look.
                  “What?” Elise's father demanded, matching her glare. “I was just pointing out that Elise needs to spend more time with people her own age.”
                  Elise cut in firmly. “I spend quite enough time with people my own age. When they can grow up, I’ll do it even more.”
                  “Honey, your father and I are just worried about you,” her mother said, suddenly gentle. “We want you to have friends