I’D THOUGHT LILY MIGHT BE bluffing. After three calls that rang only once before going to voicemail, though, it was clear that she’d already blocked my number.

I was still mulling over what to do two days later when my mom summoned me to the living room, saying that she and my dad wanted to talk to me about something.

This was not promising.

Downstairs, my parents arranged themselves on the couch across from me. They looked nervous and full of resolve.

“We’ve been doing some reading,” Mom started.

“A lot of reading,” Dad added.

Mom nodded. “Yes, a lot of reading.”

“Good for you,” I said. “I always thought you should both read more.”

They turned to each other for a moment, as if to regroup.

“Sorry,” Mom said. “Let me start again. The counselor at your school, Mrs. Hayes, reached out to us, and she recommended a lot of books about loss. We’ve been reading through them, and a number of them have really stressed the importance of structure.”

She paused and took a breath. When she breathed out again, the air came slow, like a sigh.

Dad took over. “Yes, they really emphasized structure. So, while we know you aren’t a big fan of group activities, we’ve decided it would be really beneficial for you to be part of a structured activity.”

“I’m in the chess club,” I reminded them. “That’s a structured activity.”

“When’s the last time you actually went?” Mom asked.

I shrugged. While I’d signed up at the beginning of freshman year and had continued to receive their emails and newsletter, I had yet to attend a meeting. Which was probably for the best, since I didn’t, technically speaking, know how to play.

“You could do some community service,” Dad suggested, moving his eyes up from his hands with some effort. “Or debate, maybe? I’m sure you’d be good at that. You’re very—” He paused. I could see words spinning through his head like pictures of fruit in a slot machine. Argumentative? Combative? Unyielding? He settled on “Rational. You’re very rational.”

“Yes,” Mom said, her voice filled with false cheer. “Debate could be good. Community service…The important thing is just that you pick something and really give it a chance. It could take a while, but in time you might find that you enjoy being part of a group.”

“ ‘Enjoy being part of a group’?” She couldn’t possibly believe that. No one who knew me at all, let alone someone who’d lived with me for the past fifteen years, could believe that.

Her face reddened, but she nodded. “Yes. In time, I think you might.”

It’s hard to respond when people resort to blatant lying.

Then it occurred to me that this might in fact be an opportunity—a chance to do something that would usually seem suspiciously out of character.

So I looked at my parents, both so intent on turning me into a well-adjusted person by forcing me to engage with my peers.

“Okay,” I said. “Fine.”

Mom’s shoulders dropped, as if she’d been relieved of some great burden. “Wonderful. You can take a while to think about what to join. Just let us know sometime in the next week or two—”

“Actually, I’ve already decided,” I told her.

“Oh,” she said. She sounded both pleased and surprised. “Great. What would you like to do?”

“Track,” I said.