Gone was the high school and college girl who went to heavy metal concerts from Seattle to San Francisco. In her place was a woman who preferred recitals to arena rock and string quartets to electric guitars, a woman who wore a shimmering new engagement ring. She placed her hands over her ears and tried to communicate to the man at her side, her fellow dance chaperone."I can barely hear myself think," she said."It'll get better. If not, try these," Robert Land said. He pulled a couple of foam earplugs from a pocket and placed them in her hand. "They do wonders."They had not needed earplugs the previous Saturday, when they had chaperoned a dance together for the first time. A disc jockey had provided the music for that event, which had followed Unionville's basketball victory over Columbia River, and his selections, even his disco selections, had been much easier on the ears.Michelle put the plugs in her ears, smiled, and glanced toward an open door, where dozens of students, including some from a fundraiser across the hall, spilled into the cafeteria.
