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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

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