He kept his car so well, it looked new. The leather smelled wonderful and felt soft to the touch. He had a built-in CD player and a telephone, too. I was very impressed, but I didn't want to seem like
someone who had never been off the farm.
"It happened to me once before," he said after a
few minutes of driving.
"What?"
"Something like this. I was in the tenth grade.
You probably don't remember. but I was going with
Audra Lathrop for a week or so. Her friends really
made fun of her and turned her against me. I decided
most of the girls in this school are lollipops." "Lollipops ?"
"Shiny, sweet, and insubstantial," he recited.
"You're the first girl I've spent any time with who is
focused on something other than her hairdo." "That's not true. Chandler. They're not all like
that." He shrugged.
"It hasn't been important to me to make friends
with any of them," he said, but he sounded like
someone trying to convince himself of something he
really didn't believe in his own heart. "How come you
don't have someone steady?"
"Too occupied with my family and my work. I
guess. My uncle Peter used to be my escort. He took
me everywhere."
"That's the one who was killed recently?" "Yes."
He nodded.
"Makes you want to stay home and pull the
covers over your head." he muttered.
"Yes, exactly."
"Music gets you out. It gets me out, too," he
admitted.
"That's why I thought you were different from