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Luke Randall wasn’t exactly what you’d call a good-looking guy, not even half-ways worthy of a second glance from a girl’s viewpoint. In fact as far as that was concerned, there weren’t any girls in Trinity, Idaho had gotten as far as even HAVING a viewpoint as to Luke’s particular existence.Now nineteen, he had somehow completed his education at Westmore High, his grades having been no more impressive than his peer-ranking. Perhaps his science lecturer had nailed it succinctly when he wrote on Luke’s essay “Atomic Fission: The Post War Challenges”… “Luke, if you ever find yourself within the proximity of a nuclear reactor – don’t touch anything!”Five-nine at a stretch, dark lanky hair that defied any particular style. It simply grew! More than his share of acne and with a dress sense that ranked somewhere between white trailer-trash and Dennis Hopper mid adolescence.
