"Come in," called Michaela miserably in response to the light knock.

"Got someone here to see you," said Joseph, poking his head around the door. A small black nose sniffed hesitantly at the wooden door frame and before Joseph could react, a long pink tongue had run the length of the varnished beam.

"You're not supposed to eat that, you stupid mutt," laughed Joseph, pulling the puppy more securely into his arms, "You sure know how to pick them, Mike."

"He's not mine really," corrected Michaela, smiling as the puppy squirmed in her father's arms til he was released onto the carpet, "Sully's the one who found him."

"I know you two think I'm being harsh," began Joseph, as his daughter bent down to scoop the gambolling pup into her arms, "and I accept that your intentions were good. But I can't condone your behaviour. It was impulsive and irrational. I'm disappointed in you, Mike, I thought you knew better than that."

"I'm really sorry Dad," replied Michaela, burying her face in the puppy's soft fur, "I wasn't thinking. We just couldn't bear to leave Wolf all alone out there. He's so small, he would've died."

"You named a dog, "Wolf"?" queried Joseph with a broad grin.

"Sully's idea," corrected Michaela, rolling her eyes "I told him it was stupid."

"So we can keep him, can't we?" asked Michaela, raising her eyes hopefully to her father's.

"Well, I guess chewing up the door mat counts as an official inauguration into the house" chuckled Joseph as the puppy eagerly licked Michaela's ears, "so I suppose we'll have to."

"Thanks," breathed Michaela in relief, dropping Wolf back onto the floor where he immediately began gnawing on her bedroom slippers.

"You're still grounded though," added Joseph with a mock stern expression as he strolled back towards the door, "2 weeks, no parole."

"I know Dad," grinned Michaela, shaking the persistent Wolf off her slippers before turning back to her math homework.

***********************************************************************8

October

"Don't do it, Michaela, it's a stupid idea."

"But it itches so much!"

"I know, but it won't work. Just leave it be."

"It's your fault I'm in this mess to start with, you know."

"Hey, I already apologised a thousand times for that. I thought the ladder was secure."

"Well, it obviously wasn't. And now I'm going crazy."

"Well, that's not my fault is it?"

"Oh great, now look what you made me do!"

"Not everything is about you, you know. There are other people in the world that are important too."

"I know that!

"Hey, where are you going?"

Michaela hastily stood up but Sully had already pulled open the front door and disappeared into the sunshine. Wolf, thinking that it was time for another walk, scampered after his owner but as the door slammed swiftly shut, he turned to glare reproachfully at Michaela.

"What was all that about?" asked Joseph, wandering into the living room, a piece of toast in his hand, "and what are you doing with a broken ruler? How many times do I have to tell you not to poke things down your cast?"

"My arm was itching," snapped Michaela, stalking to the door and pulling it open, "and I don't know why Sully's in such a grump. He's been biting my head off all week and I'm sick of it."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" queried Joseph, shrugging into his jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Guess not," he said as he turned around, only to find the room devoid of his daughter. "Teenagers," he remarked sardonically and rolling his eyes, headed out the door.


"When you're done with those boxes, aisle five needs mopping."

"Yes, Sir," replied Sully dutifully, reaching down to grab another lot of cans from the half empty box at his feet. The shop was stuffy despite the fans that whirled languidly above his head and he caught himself thinking once again of the million other, infinitely less tedious things that he could be doing with his time. But he couldn't leave: pitiful as the money was, he needed this job. Scowling malignantly at the injustice of it all, he thrust the cans haphazardly onto the shelf, no longer bothering to turn them the right way up.

"Damn it," he hissed as a can fell from his grip and hit the floor with a loud thud.

"I got it," came a soft voice from behind him.

"Michaela," he said in mild surprise before grabbing the can from her hands and turning moodily back to his display, "what are you doing here?"

"Matthew came in to town to get parts for the car" explained Michaela quietly, following Sully's rapid movements, "he gave me a ride. He told me what happened."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked in a hurt tone, when Sully remained silent.

"Cos it doesn't make a difference now," replied Sully curtly, still avoiding her gaze.

"But surely if she just talks to him…"

"He fired her, Michaela," burst out Sully, wheeling around to glare at his best friend, "he didn't even give her a chance to explain. Do you really think he cares what she has to say?"

"But there's no way your Mom would ever steal anything," maintained Michaela fervently.

"Try telling him that," snarled Sully, shoving more tins onto the shelf with such force that it trembled, "he thinks we're just a bunch of poor, thieving…"

His sentence tailed off into a series of expletives and for once Michaela didn't have the heart to chastise him for his choice of language.

"I'm so sorry Sully," she added softly, her eyes burning with emotion.

"Yeh, so am I," sighed Sully, his anger petering out, "sorry I'm stuck here every day, but I don't have a choice. I've got to help out if I can."

"Every day," repeated Michaela, her brow furrowing, "but Sully, your music…"

"Can't afford it now," interjected Sully brusquely, his hands momentarily balling into fists.

"But it's your dream," breathed Michaela sadly.

"Dreams are great while they last Michaela," said Sully neutrally, "but some day you gotta wake up to reality."

"You better go find Matthew," he added in a final tone, "I gotta get back to work."