[ Clara smiles just a touch, but glances back at the lake well behind them now and out of sight. ]

I might've tried teaching you what little I can before I knew there was something lurking under the ice. Now I don't want to take my chances. [ She's amazed that others are, they can't be the only two who've felt it, but people are still having their fun. ]

Barring that, I like stories. Real ones, made-up ones. Both listening and telling. Reading is actually what I really like to do, and from there it's easy to make up stories. I used to memorize short stories or poems and recite them for my family like a proper narcissist. As if they wanted to see a pre-teen dramatically recite 'The Raven.'

[ Clara smiles again, then titls her head as she looks at Vanessa. ] What year is it for you again? Do you know Edgar Allan Poe's work yet?