I wanted nothing to do with that vibe. I went straight to my room, closed the door, and flopped through the darkness onto my bed.
I lay there awhile and let the dinner disaster play through my mind.
And when I’d totally burned a fuse thinking about it, I sat up and looked out the window.
There was a light on somewhere inside the Bakers’ house and the streetlights were glowing, but the night still seemed really dense.
Like it was darker than usual and, I don’t know, heavy.
I leaned closer to the window and looked up into the sky, but I couldn’t see the stars anymore.
I wondered if Juli had ever been in the sycamore at night. Among the stars. I shook my head.
Flat, glossy, iridescent. What was up with that? Juli Baker had always seemed just plain dusty to me.
I snapped on my desk lamp and dug the newspaper with the article about Juli out of the drawer where I’d tossed it.
Just like I thought – they made it sound like Juli was trying to save Mount Rushmore or something.
They called her a “strong voice in an urban wilderness” and “a radiant beacon,
shedding light on the need to curtail continued overdevelopment of our once quaint and tranquil community.”
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