I stretched, not quite fully awake, and my first thought was to go and tell my sisters and Clinty what I had done last night. But they were in Minnesota. And I had work to do today, intent on living up to my growing (and at this point, thoroughly undeserved) reputation as the hero of Jalesville. You have a real complex, I told myself. I brewed coffee, munching a banana as I reworded my argument for Tuesday night. As much as I was trying not to acknowledge it, a great deal of my attention kept getting swept into the notion that Case would be there, listening. Not to mention about half the town. But his opinion, as I was quickly discovering, mattered a great deal to me. I moved out to the porch, hoping the sunny day would distract me, but no good. I only found myself thinking about how the sun would play over his red-gold hair. I want to see another picture of him, I thought then, peering back over my shoulder at my laptop, lying forlorn on the sofa.
