Kip jabbed a thumb in her direction and looked to Don Paul. “For the first time in Killington High School history, the Jackrabbits are one win away from the district championship game and she ain’t interested.”

Don Paul shook his head ruefully.

The jukebox exchanged a Johnny Paycheck for a Hank Williams. Kip crushed out his cigarette and joined Savannah at the counter. “How the hell could you not be interested?”

“I want to be a real reporter, not a sportswriter.”

“Gonna be a hell of a story. Already is.”

“Yeah, I can see the headline now: ‘Jackrabbits Choke Again, See You Next September.’ Not really much there.”

“Gotta dig, woman. Gotta dig.”

“Look, I’m the first to admit that my portfolio is in desperate need of some more newsworthy topics. But I’m sure something will come along that’s more significant than a stupid football game.”

“But this is more than just a news story. This is town history. Could be anyway.”

Savannah approved a spelling change. “Don’t know a thing about it.”

“Right, you’re fairly new in town. Well, if you got a few minutes for a quick history lesson . . .”

“I don’t.”

“Fine. I’ll nutshell it for you. Might make a difference to you later. See, it’s like this: as far as football goes, the Killington Jack-rabbits have a history of playing like Jack-shit.”

“Not listening . . .”

“Sixty-nine losing seasons in seventy-eight years.”

“You don’t say . . .”

“Just to pull a few gems from the highlight reel: in sixty-two they didn’t make a first down until game seven . . .”

“Still not listening . . .”

“…and that was only because a desperation pass wedged itself into the tight end’s face mask.”

“Boy, did that one bring ’em to their feet,” Don Paul said, reminiscing.

Savannah steered her mouse back and forth across the countertop, pointing and clicking.

“Last year against Lamar we had to put our punter on supplemental oxygen because of exhaustion. Our punter for chrissake! What’s that tell you about the Jackrabbits’ understanding of forward progress?”

Savannah clicked again. “Does pterodactyl really start with a p?”

“But now we’re eight and one going into tonight’s final game against Stanton High. Winner of that meets the Elmwood Badgers in the district championship game. That’s the Elmwood Badgers. The titans of two-A. Take into account the bad blood between the two towns, and we’re talking ’bout a real barn-burner.”

Savannah hit Save, powered down, and slammed the laptop shut. She checked her watch and smiled. “With time to spare…as always. One more coffee, Bernice, before I head to school?”

Bernice McFay put down her sudoku book, buried her pencil in her hair bun, and crossed over to Savannah with a fresh pot. “You headin’ back for the pep rally, honey?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead there. Anyway, I have to set a layout for the paper.”