Brant’s face brightens with a smile, reminding me of a lightning bug at dusk. I stare at him for a moment, and the prickle of fear fades away. His face is handsome and brave, with eyes like the earth: a little green, a little brown. He has dents that pop up on both cheeks when he smiles wide, and Mama says they’re called dimples. I love Brant’s dimples. I pretend they were made just for me.
