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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