PJ's mom came home from her nursing shift at the hospital with sad news. "Mayor Mill's son was taken ill a few hours ago," she announced pouring herself a glass of wine. "The sheriff and the mayor were having a shouting match in the hall; the sheriff said he ate part of an apple turnover and just collapsed. And apparently, the mayor is the one who baked the dessert. Rumors were flying around the hospital saying that Dr. Whale can't find anything wrong with the poor kid. And as I was driving home, I saw the weirdest thing; the mayor and sheriff breaking into the library and the sheriff had a sword!"

His younger sister, Penny, jumped up on the couch brandishing a wooden spoon. "If I was Sheriff Swan I would have sworded the mayor to death!" She thrust and jabbed with her make-pretend sword. "Oh! Maybe they're going to have a duel in the library!"

PJ's dad swerved to avoid being poked with the spoon. "Mark my words!" he pontificated. "Those girls are going to ruin this town. Children need a proper home with a mother and a father." He settled into his recliner facing the TV and popped the top of the first of the three beers he allowed himself to drink each night. "This nonsense of having children out of wedlock is dangerous! What kind of example is that sheriff setting for our kids? That it's OK to mess around and get pregnant when you're not even old enough to vote? And that mayor! Adopting a kid when she hasn't got a husband…."

PJ escaped to his room, microwaved TV dinner in hand, his parents still arguing the merits of morality in public figures and Penny still fighting a mock duel on the couch. Yet another normal night in the Johnson household: mother gossiping about patients and staff in the hospital, father moralizing just like an evangelical preacher on TV, and Penny acting like a three year old hoping at least one of their parents would notice her. At nearly fifteen, she really should know better. He fingered a lumpy scar on the back of his head; the end result of another mock duel involving Penny when he was ten. His mother had thought that she knew the same as any doctor and had stitched him up herself. But the cut had been almost four inches long and curved, and his mother had never received any instruction on how to properly stitch wounds. Other than the dying part, he almost envied Henry; it must be nice to have two parents who loved you….

It kind of sucked having a father who was more than slightly obnoxious. The old man used to work in logistics for the sanitation department until he got into an argument with the mayor. She wasn't able to fire him, but she was able to get him demoted to riding the back of a trash truck. And if the loss in position wasn't demoralizing enough, the loss in pay meant that he wasn't able to be the sole provider for his family anymore. PJ's mom resumed working as a nurse at the hospital; her salary starting salary was higher than his ever was. For a man who firmly and honestly believed that it was the man's responsibility to lead and provide for his family and the wife's job to nurture children and take care of the home, this was a crushing blow.

His mom wasn't much better. She did like working as a nurse, but she resented being placed in a position where she had to work or they'd lose their house. She took small comfort in the thought that once the kids moved out, they could sell the house, move to a small apartment, and live on his income. And she would again have the choice to work or not as she pleased.

The only bright spot in his life was hanging out with Fiona. She wasn't exactly beautiful; her nose was too small, her mouth too wide. And her hair refused to be tamed. But she had a gorgeous set of bright blue eyes that he could stare at forever and an accent that would make even Walden seem interesting if she read it aloud. She had been his best friend since the day she skipped onto the bus and sat next to him back when they were twelve. She had an amazing sense of humor, and a penchant for getting in trouble at school over stupid little things. And when she kissed him, he felt the world slip away; the only thing that mattered was her.

PJ forked a bite of his turkey and gravy dinner into his mouth, ignoring the cardboard flavor and consistency. His phone dinged, indicating a message from Fiona.

F: u there?

P: yeah.

F: u still going to help me 2moro?

P: course. Time?

F: early. 6? 630?

P: k. howd u get bow anyways.

F: Gold sold for song.

P: rly?

F: sorta. He just wanted me to tell him everything I knew about Henry n sheriff. He gave me bow n arrow

P: u gotta be careful with Gold.

F: Idk. Never heard of him reneging on a deal. + he was nice 2 me when I got drunk last year

P: But what about Ashley Boyd? Mom says Gold tried to steal her baby.

F: Rly? I heard she signed papers for adoption and he was just trying to pick the kid up for its new parents.

P: Wonder if either is truth?

F: idk. Gotta go. The parents are calling.

P: C u 2moro at 6. ly

F: lyt

PJ let himself out of the house early the next morning, tiptoeing past his father fast asleep still in the recliner. Trudging through a rain-wet forest to a clearing containing a 'liberated' hay bale for the sole purpose of watching your girlfriend shoot arrows into it was not the brightest idea he'd ever agreed to, but almost anything was better than staying at home. Besides, the perks were rather awesome. PJ sat cross legged on a trash bag so his clothes wouldn't get wet and watched with grateful appreciation as the sweatshirt Fiona was pulling over her head dragged up her apple green T-shirt exposing a nice three or four inch band of skin. That she wasn't wearing a belly button ring wasn't surprising, but it was more than slightly disappointing. That pale smooth ring between her shirt and hip hugging jeans was begging for some sort of decoration. She needed a tat for her hip, something that would peep above the low waist of her pants and entice the viewer into wondering what the rest looked like. He immediately excluded the traditional 'girly' tattoos (hearts, flowers, sun, moon, etc.) as not extraordinary enough. Given her new found interest in archery, perhaps the Sagittarius constellation…. Fiona pulled the first arrow from the quiver, set it against the bow string and let it fly to the target. Pulling back on the bow tightened her T-shirt across her chest and once again lifted its hem away from her jeans. PJ stopped breathing as she stepped back and sent another arrow on its way; he wasn't sure which was more entrancing: her belly-button playing peek-a-boo or that he finally knew that Fiona liked to wear lace edged bras. He resumed breathing, light-headed from more than just a lack of oxygen, when Fiona lowered her bow and the brain in his head re-engaged. He was surprised to see that the quiver was empty; it hadn't seemed that long…. But he was more surprised to see that the arrows formed a neat circle in the center of the target.

"That was amazing," he whispered, complimenting not just the outstanding archery. He saw Fiona stagger, and then a wave crashed into him. Perhaps not so much a physical wave as a mental one. It smashed into his memories, broke down barriers, reminded him of the truth: my name is Jack Spaniel.