The green Jeep Grand Cherokee shone like a star in the moonlight. His car looked as if it was the reflection of trees in the lake by our house. I wasn’t expecting him to come, but I got an exhilarating chill down my spine when he pulled up. He was my married to one of my sisters best friends, so I only knew him a little. He just moved here from Chicago, and I really wanted to get to know him, but I was reluctant.
Mom told me that John had called, but I didn’t know what it was about. He made me get in the car, while he continued to talk to my mom. Finally, he got in. I remember him smelling like Old Spice and strawberries, a scent that would become very familiar to me. I was really confused, and scared. I knew that my mom wouldn't let anything bad happen to me, but she let me get into the car of a man that we barely knew. I thought that she had lost her mind. I did not think he liked me... or even knew who I was. I never thought that he listened to the conversations I had in quiet corners, just me and my mom. My instincts told me that I should run, but I didn't want to. It must be OK if my mom let him come, I thought.
“Where are we going?” I asked with suspicion.
He replied with a sentence that I hear often. “For a drive,” he said.

We went to a gas station.
“Get me some chocolate covered raisins and a bag of chips. You can get two bags of anything you want,” John told me.
To a nine year old, anyone who gives you candy is trustworthy. I decided that this guy would be one of my best friends. I was picking out my candy when he came in with his credit card. I got Twizzlers and Sour Patch Kids, my favorite candy. I love the strawberry and cherry twists. I loved the way sour sugar collected at the bottom of the bag of Sour Patch Kids. I still was unsure of where he was taking me, or why he would be buying me candy, but I trusted him.
Our next stop was the McDonald's near my house. We went inside. He ordered a Big Mac, and added more ketchup than I would eat in lifetime, while I got a kids meal of chicken nuggets and fries. He ate most of my fries. Even though I asked where he was taking me, John replied with, “It’s a secret.” During dinner, John discovered that if he held an empty drink out to me, I would go fill his cup up. I made a mental note to yell at my dad for training me to do this.
Eventually, I figured out that we were going to the Olde Town Arvada theater, a place that would soon hold some of my fondest memories. There was so much popcorn on the floor that it felt like I was crushing a million beetles with every step. I remember him getting the family pack, two medium drinks and a large popcorn. It was the first time I’d ever gotten my own drink at a movie. I always had to share with my siblings; I guessed this was different. That made me feel more comfortable around him.
He was really excited because he was taking me to a movie that I really, really wanted to go to, wanting to keep it a surprise. He told me to get in the line with a bunch of journalists. Tmpressed they all looked like they wanted money. I saw lots of expensive cameras and some notebooks. There were so many people, and I started to get claustrophobic; all the people and their gear made me feel like I was a sardine. I didn’t understand. After what felt like hours of me being alone, John got in the line that had now started to move. There were only four seats left, and we held the final ones.

After the critics preview of Inkheart, my favorite book, I found out that John worked really hard to get those tickets when he heard how excited I was to see it. I was so ihat he listened, and cared. I didn’t even think he knew my name, but now he knows me better than some of my closest friends, maybe even better than my family.