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 munity。”
Spare me。 I mean； what's wrong with letting a guy cut down a tree on his own property so he
can build a house？ His lot； his tree； his decision。
End of story。 The piece in the paper was gag…me gush。
Except。 Except for the places aybe it was just in contrast to the