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ulder and said;
“It was nice walking with you; Bryce。 I enjoyed
myself very much。”
“Me too;” I told him; and we went inside。
Right away we knew we'd stepped into a war zone。 And even though no one was yelling or
crying; from the look on my parents' faces I could tell
there'd been a major meltdown while my granddad and I were out。
Granddad whispered to me; “I've got another fence to mend; I'm afraid;” and headed into the
dining room to talk to my parents。
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 mu
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