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I'd never had $100 bucks before. I always spent it before I had more than twenty - usually on pot. My dealer always advertised better stuff, but I'd rather get sorta high twenty times than really high once. But who knew Candy was stacked? If she could actually keep getting this kind of cash, I could try a real drug.

And maybe so could Candy. I felt a little bad about giving her aspirin and calling it drugs, but hey, if she swears it works, who am I to argue? Still, it was only fair to give her a real high at least once. After all, the eleven-year-old feral had been giving me blowjobs for pennies worth of over-the-counter pain meds.

Oscar was impressed when I shovelled over a hundred dollars for 5 pills of E. "Finally moving up, Pie?" he asked. My real name was Paul Ignatius Emerson, but I preferred my initials. That middle monstrosity was my mother's doing. She was an odd bird (for a husky).

I nodded at the Doberman. One of his ears was cropped up, the other was just missing; he told me from a fight. I believed him, since I certainly wouldn't want to mess with the guy.

"Finally selling instead of just tokin'?" he asked.

"Actually, yeah."

Oscar shrugged. "Don't worry about me. As long as I'm your middle man, you're okay with me. But you start going to someone else..."

"Don't worry!" I interrupted. "Why would I turn my back on an old friend."

"You better not," he said, and it didn't sound particularly pleasant.

Pocketing the pills, I headed home. The trailer park was only slightly better than the damp alley I'd met Oscar in, but it was an okay place to sleep. I got my own room after Mom left, and Dad didn't really seem to care what the fuck I did at whatever hour of night. He always just crashed after 12 hours of construction and 4 hours of beer with his friends. Sure enough, I was as unsupervised as ever. At least the old man stocked the freezer with hot pockets.

"Ow!" I yipped, taking a bite way too early. I hopped into my room, wishing it weren't Friday. I'd really gotten used to Candy's morning BJ. Hard to believe what a slut she'd become in just a couple of weeks. Rand had really done a number on her - I still can't believe he was still hiding what happened from me. If it weren't for Candy accidentally giving it away, I'd never have known the horny wolf had bagged _both_his younger cousins in one night. Yet since then, he'd been completely tight-lipped. The girls had been little goodie-two-shoes before that night.

The phone rang. Fuck, Mom. I couldn't ignore it though. As much as I was annoyed that she left Dad, I understood it. He was a mean drunk. "Hello?" I asked dryly.

"Should have guessed it would be _you_answering the phone. Your dad pas -"

"Just get to the point, Mom."

"Is that how you talk to your mother?" She sighed. "Fine. Look, I need a favor this weekend."

"Mom, no. Don't you realize I've got, like homework or shit?"

She laughed. "When was the last time you did homework, Paul?"

"Thanks."

She paused. "I need you to watch Annabelle until Tuesday. Jackson is due in court in Indiana."

I blinked, ears flat. "All _weekend?_And Mom, I don't know if you realize this, but I have _school_on Monday."

"Paul, don't be a prat. You know Jackson has to work, and Annabelle doesn't like long car rides. Just get your father to call you in sick."

Jackson was Mom's new boyfriend. Well, I guess they were married and had a daughter already, but as far as I was concerned, Dad was still her husband. We were such a perfect family together, all pure bred huskies. The divorce was bad enough but when Dad met Jackson he nearly flipped out. Jackson was a feral, and exactly the wrong kind. He was a German Shepherd, and a police officer to boot. I'd overheard Dad complaining about that pet 'fucking my wife' more times than I could count.

"I have a big report on Monday," I lied. But I sure didn't want to miss a day with Candy. What she and I had together was something great. The beginnings of something pure and powerful - the hallowed relationship between a dealer and his client. What if she found another supplier? He couldn't lose his steady source of blow jobs!

"Just shut it. We really need the help, and you're the only one old enough to babysit."

"I don't even know her, Mom. I met her like...once, three years ago?"

"People babysit for strangers all the time. You can stay at our house, and there's pizza in the fridge and Anna's meals are all pre-prepared, and she's got three book readers all set up. If she misbehaves, just tell her she won't be allowed to read and she'll listen up."

Annabelle was like my version of Rand's Carly and Candy, only she was my half-sister instead of my cousin. And where his cousins were only two years younger than him, Annabelle was only eight. We had nothing in common except half our DNA. And of course she had to come out of mom a feral like Jackson.

"You're gonna pay me for this."

There was a heavy sigh from the other end. "Twenty a day. That's sixty bucks."

"I know how to add money, Mom, it's algebra I don't like."

"Don't you forget to tell your Dad where you'll be. I don't want him calling me."

"Yeah, yeah. Is that it, Mom?"

"Paul, don't fuck this up, okay? I know you don't like Jackson, but don't take that out on Annabelle. She's just a kid."

More like a puppy. "Yeah."

I scrawled a quick note on the fridge that said I'd be out all weekend. That's all Dad needed to know. He'd be angrier if he knew I'd be staying at Jackson's house with their two-car garage even though Mom was the only family member who had the hands to drive. It was about a thirty minute bike ride and I was exhausted when I got there, but I caught Mom and Jackson before they left. The police dog was dressed in his uniform, complete with hat tucked between his ears. Bet he thought he looked tough, but I knew that Mom had to dress him.

"Paul, there you are," he said, wagging his tail. I rolled my eyes, noting that the grown feral wasn't bothering to wear pants. Clothes were optional for four-leggers, and pants were pretty uncomfortable, but I didn't exactly like looking at my step-dad's cock all the time, picturing it banging my Mom.

"This is kinda short notice," I grumbled.

"I know," he admitted, and added, "You're really saving us here. I really appreciate it."

I shoulda suggested Rand babysit. He was the responsible friend. But then I remembered what he did the_last_ time he babysat. At least I wasn't going to _fuck_Annabelle. "Whatever."

"I'm almost ready!" Mom yelled from inside the house. She'd left the door open a crack and Annabelle pushed through the door, shyly at first. She'd grown a lot in three years. Despite being five-and-a-half years younger than me, she was already almost full-grown, a German Shepherd like her dad except for her different-colored eyes, curled tail, and general_brownness_. She still had darker sides, but not black, and the creamy white on her belly was a light brown instead.

"That's Paul?" she asked in a hushed tone.

Jackson glanced over his shoulder at his daughter. "Yeah, who else would it be? Don't you remember meeting him, what...four years ago?"

"Three," I said.

The girl stared up at me and said, "He's really pretty."

I mean, I was a husky, with nice, creamy, white fur that blended sharply into a reddish-brown. I guess I probably qualified as handsome, though none of the girls at school seemed to think so. And Candy didn't think of me like that. Still, I might have gone with 'handsome' over 'pretty'.

Jackson laughed. "He _does_take after his mother. Can you go see what's taking her?"

I flicked an ear, watching the shepherdess turn around and head inside. I leaned down to Jackson and whispered, "Why's she naked?" Because aside from her brown fur she wasn't wearing a lick of a thing. I know Candy and Carly often went commando at family functions, but even though I was Annabelle's half-brother, I hardly qualified as close.

He didn't seem concerned. "We let Annabelle decide how she feels comfortable. Society does a good enough job making people ashamed. We don't want to be part of that."

"Dude, she's eight. She doesn't know any better."

"It's not 'better'," Jackson tried to explain, but I wasn't buying it. "We teach her that she's in control of her body and everything that happens to it."

"Until bath time, right?" I roll my eyes.

Jackson laughed. "She went through a phase where she wouldn't let Sharon bathe her, but she figured out that if she wanted us to play with her, she'd better not stink."

I dropped my jaw. They really let her get away without bathing? Must be Jackson's plan, because I remembered Mom spanking me when I tried to hide during bath time. Some seriously new-age, soy latte bullshit.

Jackson said, "Look, she's at that age where she's asking questions about her body. You don't have to answer her, Paul. She's got 'My Beautiful Body' on one of her readers. Just send her there, okay?"

"My what?"

"It's a puberty book. I wish I had more time to tell you what to do, but we have to go. Look," he repeated. "I know you don't like us springing this on you, and I get that. But your mother and I would really appreciate it if you didn't say anything that might make her feel self-conscious about her body, okay?" The sharply-dressed canine officer looked up at me.

I hated that look. He always did it, no matter how much of a snot I was. He stared at me like I was a person, like he respected me whether I respected him or not. I wanted to hate Jackson, but every time I interacted with him, I found the loyal husky inside of me wanting to please and obey him. In a way that I never felt about Dad. I turned away and spat on the ground.

"Thanks, Paul," he said, as Mom rushed out the door with three pieces of luggage dragging along behind her.

"I've got everything Jackson. Here's twenty dollars for emergencies, Paul. Thanks again for coming on such short notice." No swear words or insults from Mom when Jackson was around. I pocketed the money, and Mom opened the car door for Jackson, who hopped up like a dog. I wonder if he stuck his head out the window whenever they drove places?

I walked inside. I'd been in Jackson's house a few times before Annabelle was born, and every once in a while since then, but thankfully I'd never really had to deal with the puppy. "Anna?"

"Annabelle," she corrected, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. "But I guess you can call me that if you want to."

"Great. Look, I'm going to do some homework on my phone, alright? Tell me when you need dinner."

She nodded, disappearing upstairs, while I took the old, brown couch. This was going to be easier than I thought!

"Hey, Paul, listen to this song I made."

"Hey, Paul, want to see my dance moves? I learned this in dance class."

"Hey, Paul, look it, I just got 100% on my math homework. Do you get A's in math?"

"Hey, Paul, look at me. Look at me! Look at me."

I groaned. The last hour had been positively insane. I growled, "It's Pie, okay. I don't go by Paul anymore. And I don't care about this stuff. I'm just trying to watch - I mean do my homework. Can't you entertain yourself?"

She flattened her pointed ears. The shepherd said, "I guess so," but she didn't move, even as I started my Netflix video again.

"Go away," I said simply.

"I won't say anything, I promise."

I glanced skeptically at the eight-year-old, but let her stay, watching my video.

"What class is that for?" she asked.

I stared her down. "I thought you were going to be quiet."

"Sorry," she said, shrinking back. I couldn't help but chuckle at her devastated expression.

But sure enough, two minutes later, "What's that guy doing?"

"Anna!"

"I'm sorry..." she protested. "I didn't mean to."

By the third time she interrupted, I gave in and explained the movie so far. I wonder if she realized it wasn't for a class when the main character leapt in through a window and shot a bunch of terrorists. The violence didn't seem to faze her, she just asked more questions.

"Can you pet my head?" she asked, looking up at me.

"What? No!"

"Why not?" the German Shepherd mix asked honestly. "Mom does it." She really didn't get why it wasn't appropriate for me to pet my naked half-sister while we were alone, watching a movie.

"Well, I don't." I was about to explain that it was gross for related people to...touch that way, but then I remembered Jackson's request. I didn't care about Jackson, really, but I didn't want to take it out on Annabelle. I didn't want her to feel weird about asking for some affection, so I left it at that.

But Anna curled up on the couch resting her head gently against my thigh, just listening to the violent sounds from the movie, and without thinking about it, I slid my hand down and ran it through the soft, brown fur on her head. She thumped her tail and I figured it was okay.

"Dinner time," I said, when the movie ended. The clock said 8:00 P.M.

"Wow, it's so late," Anna said, glancing at the clock. "It's already bed time!"

"You go to bed at eight?"

"Yeah..." she said, hesitantly.

"Mom didn't make me go to bed until 9:30. When I was eight."

"No way," Anna exclaimed. "Wait - you're joking, aren't you?"

I shook my head. "Cross my heart and hope to die." Normally, I'd have said 'Do I look like a fucking comedian?' but I felt really...different around Anna. She was so naive and so fragile. I knew pretty fucking well that Jackson never swore in front of the pup, so I wasn't going to either.

The food was pre-prepared and had plenty of vegetables, which certainly beat the chicken nuggets Mom fed me when I was a kid. But I soon understood why, because the note said she had to eat at least three broccoli or she wouldn't get a peanut butter treat. Neither eating the broccoli nor missing out on a treat appealed to Anna, and she put up the fit of my lifetime.

"No! I can't eat the broccoli. I can't!"

"Well, then you can't have your treat."

"THAT'S NOT FAY-ERR! I'm too_full _to eat it!"

My ears flattened. "Then you're too full for your treat." I was unsure exactly how the sweet thing that had put her head in my lap two hours ago had turned into this little bitch, but I was at the end of my rope. I remembered the five pills in my pocket, and wondered if my suggestion to Rand wasn't right after all. If I could fill this girl full of sleeping pills, I could have my weekend back and maybe even make it to school on Monday. But ecstasy was exactly the wrong kind of drug to put her to sleep.

Still, the wailing did not stop. I might have snapped right then if I hadn't noticed the other side of the note Mom left. It said in hastily scrawled handwriting, "Take away her books". That was all it took. "If you don't eat your broccoli, you're going to bed without reading," I explained simply.

She gasped, and shut up, but then said accusingly, "You sound like Dad. I don't like it!"

"You don't like your dad?"

"No, I hate him!" she whined.

I couldn't believe it. Jackson seemed way too perfect on the outside. What was he doing to her? I_knew_ he was too good to be true. "What did he do to you?" I asked breathlessly, clenching my fists. If he was hurting her - or worse - I would have to kill him. Was he hurting Mom, too?

She said, "He makes me eat my_vegetablaaaaaas!"_

My hackles lowered. "That's it?"

She sniffled. "Yeah, but he's so_mean_."

"Why do you think he makes you eat them?" I asked slowly.

She huffed. "Because he _hates_me."

"Why, really?" I pressed.

She whined. "Because they're 'good for me'."

I ruffled the fur on her head, pushing the plate closer to her. "Sounds like he loves you very much."

Annabelle looked down, her tail between her legs. "I know," she sighed, and ate her broccoli.

After dinner, she went straight to bed and started to read. Ferals couldn't turn pages, so special page-turners were made. You had to slide each page into the machine one at a time, but then Anna could press a big, green button and the machine would flip the page forward or back. Aside from "My Beautiful Body - Book for Girls", she had two novels. One was about feral cats in ancient Egypt, and the other had a cover with a bare, broad chested panther holding a trembling lioness. This was the kind of book they let their kid read? I mean, with Mom, I get it, but Jackson?

But I guess he wanted Annabelle to grow up unashamed. I blushed. "Alright, good night," I said, and quickly walked away.

"Goodnight, Pie," she said, smiling broadly.

I sat on the couch, trying to piece things together. It was weird how I felt. I barely even knew_my half-sister, but I wanted to protect her, even when the shepherdess acted like a little baby. But she clearly wasn't a baby. All ferals hit puberty at like, one or two years old, even though mentally they developed like normal. But those books - she wasn't just _feeling teenage hormones, she was thinking_about that stuff. Probably. I did a quick look-up of the "My Beautiful Body" and holy shit - it talked about things like_masturbation and STDs. Annabelle was eight!

How was I going to entertain the girl for three more days? I couldn't just watch movies with her. She wasn't going to read for the next 24 hours...times three. Did she play board games? Did she have some sort of...tablet computer? What if she finished her books? What if -

"Pie?" a sleepy voice rang out through the room and I started.

"Annabelle, you're supposed to be asleep."

"Not uh - I'm allowed to read until 9:00."

I looked at the clock and it said 8:50. "What is it?" She was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down, one ear flopping over instead of standing straight up.

"Why do you and Mommy wear clothes?"

I blinked. "Go back to bed, kay?"

"I mean it. Daddy only wears clothes when he's working. Should I wear clothes?" The young girl cocked her head.

My Beautiful Body. That was my ticket out of this conversation! Scrambling, face burning, I said, "Read your book, okay? It should say."

She shook her head. "I looked. It didn't!" She started to walk down the stairs, the exact opposite of the direction I wanted her to go.

I paled. "Wait. Did you try the table of contents? Isn't there a chapter on fer - four-legger clothes?"

"No. It's not for four-leggers exactly. It's for two-leggers. It says its important to be comfortable in your clothes. But I don't wear any? Is that bad?"

Fuck. "It's, uh...different for you. Since it is so hard to get dressed, and, you know, you can't really see much of...um..."

"Much of what?" By now, the dog was at the bottom of the steps, just fifteen feet away from me.

Wait, was I supposed to say anything about that? Didn't the idea of private parts sort of go against the idea of being comfortable in your body? I stammered.

"Oh, you mean my vulva," she said, nodding.

I froze, a slight whimper coming through my closed muzzle. "Yes?"

"Is that why you have to wear clothes? Because of your penis?"

"Annabelle, just...go to bed, please?"

She cocked her head again, now only five feet away from me. "What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"

How could I explain without breaking the rules and saying that people don't like talking about private parts? She used 'vulva' and 'penis' with familiarity. Mom and Jackson must use those words with her all the time. I took a deep breath and said, "No, nothing's wrong. I mean, yes, that's why we wear clothes, but it doesn't matter for four-leggers. I don't know why, really."

"Do you want me to wear clothes?" she asked suddenly.

God yes. "Yeah. I mean, yes, but...um...it's up to you?"

"Okay, Pie. Good night!" With that, the shepherdess turned around and bounded up the stairs. I don't know what came over me, but I caught a glimpse beneath that raised husky tail, and I realized that she at least didn't do a good job covering her privates with her tail! I stuck out my tongue. Gross.

If that didn't call for a dose of ecstasy to take my mind off of her, I don't know what did. But I'd never taking E, and I was still baby-sitting, even though I would have had like eight hours to sleep it off. I kept the pills in my pocket and played games until midnight, falling asleep on the couch.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Anna yipped, and my eyes opened to the bright light of morning. The German Shepherd mix was jumping all over me, placing her paws all over my body as she wagged her tail. "Saturday morning cartoons!"

"Ugh," I groaned. "Your parents let you watch that stuff?"

"Yeah! Turn on the T.V.!"

"Please?" I glowered.

"Pleeeeeease," she replied.

At least she disappeared as soon as the girly cartoons started blaring. I mean, she was sitting on the couch, but her mind was catatonic as she stared endlessly at the bright pink and yellow screen. Absolute garbage television, but it gave me time to get breakfast ready and to waste some time on my phone. Judging by her fixation with the television, it was probably a good thing that Mom hadn't gotten her a tablet.

She ate breakfast pleasantly enough, but as soon as the cartoons switched to more boy stuff, she lost interest. I was sitting in the armchair when the bored puppy suddenly jumped into my lap.

"Oof! What's happening?" I asked, trying not to touch my half-sister.

"Will you pet my head?" she asked again.

"No, Anna."

"Why no-ot?"

"I just don't feel like it," I said, trying to push the feral out of my lap. But she was cute and persistent, and finally I relented and let her curl up across my lap. As long as I petted her, she wasn't nearly as annoying.

If only I didn't get sore from trying to sit in the same position for an hour. The clingy dog yipped when I tried to adjust my position, and eventually I just pushed her off of me. "Time's up. Come on, there's gotta be something you'd rather be doing."

"Want to see my dance moves?"

I repressed the urge to roll my eyes, and nodded. Anna explained and demonstrated in great detail all of the dance steps she'd learned at the studio, trying to show me in order, but she kept forgetting the steps. There was a tail swish here, a duck and a bob there, but overall, it looked pretty messy. "Yeah, not too bad," I lied.

I glanced at the clock. Only 10:30. Today was going to be forever. "Hey, kiddo, I've got to go to the bathroom, alright? You're gonna have to entertain yourself for a while."

"Awww."

But while I was hiding in the bathroom, playing Candy Castles, she was sitting by the door, waiting. Sometimes, she asked impatiently when I would be done. "Not for a while. Why don't you go read?"

That did the trick. I needed to remember the power of those books more often. She padded off to her room and I didn't hear from her anymore. Thank God.

The relief was short-lived. After only thirty more minutes, my pretend-bathroom time came to an end by loud, death shriek. I heard Annabelle wailing from her room, and I seriously thought she must have cut off her tail or something. I scrambled to my feet and rushed up the stairs to find the shepherd howling on her back on the floor - in one piece.

"What the f -" I started. "What's wrong?"

"Pie, help! I hurt my vulva! It_hurts_, it hurts!" she whined.

I blanched. "You what?How!?"

"Call nine-one-oooooone! Is it okay? Is it bad?" she squealed.

I was going to kill my mom for making me do this. What the hell was wrong with this girl? Nervously, I walked around her, looking down between her legs. I expected to see - well, I don't know what I expected to see, but when I looked between her legs, I didn't see anything. Not a scrape, not blood, no cuts. "It looks fine, Anna. What happened?"

"It's NOT fine! It_huuuuuurts..._"

How did I ever end up spending my weekend investigating an eight-year-old's vagina? "It doesn't hurt. There's not even anything -"

"It does hurt! It does," and a fresh wave of sobs reverberated through her little body.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. But you'll be fine. I promise! What happened, though?" I asked, trying to change the subject from the supposed pain.

She rolled around on the floor, kicking her feet. "I was trying something from the book and I scratched my vulva! It's so bad, Pie!"

"You're gonna be fine," I said.Scratched her vulva? Was she trying to masturbate? Not so easy with paws.

"I'm not," she wailed dramatically, and then suddenly her panting screams subsided as she looked up at me, eyes begging. "Kiss it and make it better."

I took a step back. "No way."

"Why not? That's what Daddy does."

"It's not the same. You know..."

"Pleeeeeeease, Pie. Why won't you help meeee?"

Five minutes of begging. Five minutes. Nothing I could do would console her. No threats or bribes. She couldn't possibly be in pain anymore from a little scratch. But there was no end in sight.

"FINE," I said. I could hardly believe she'd goaded me into it! In a great sigh, I found myself crouching over my half-sister, lowering my lips to her perfectly fine little spade, and touched my nose, ever so quickly, to her. "That's all you're getting."

"That feels so much better," she claimed, tears starting to dry on her face. "Thanks."

I wiped my nose with my hand. "Now, you're going to have to be more careful, Anna. I don't think that book is really designed for four-leggers like you, okay? You should really ask before you try something...something..." I trailed off.

"Then how do I masturbate?" she asked suddenly.

I gaped my jaw. "I meant ask your_mother_, not me."

"But the book says its supposed to feel good. But it didn't." She looked so honest and uncertain, I couldn't help but try to help.

"I think that only really works with fingers." Seeing her downcast face, I added, "Sorry."

"That's not fair," she whined. Then, she paused. "But you have fingers."

I saw where she was going with that. "Not uh. Not going to happen."

"Why not?" she asked, wiggling her butt as she lay on her back in front of me.

"That'd be taking advantage of you."

"No. It's my body, my choice. That's what Dad always says. I want you to touch me," she said, firmly.

I said, "Ah ha - well it's my body,my choice, and I don't want to."

I had her there. She finally got up, the supposed pain in her butt long forgotten. But her ears were still flat, and her tail was uncharacteristically down.

"If it helps, I don't think you're really old enough."

That didn't help.

But playing tea party did. I had to move all her stuffed animals around for her, but she told quite a ridiculous story about her tea party guests and all the drama between them. The zebra was dying of cancer, but her son (a deer) was having trouble conceiving with his wife (a little Burger King toy). It all got very complicated, but I was absolutely grateful for anything that wasn't talking about masturbation. For God's sake, I didn't learn about jacking off until I was eleven.

When the phone rang, I was grateful for an excuse to get up out of the little chair. It was Mom, but when I answered the phone, it was Mom and Jackson, with the speakerphone on. "Everything still in one piece?" Jackson asked playfully.

"Yeah, no problems. But I don't know what we're going to do for three more days."

Mom chimed in, "You have to take Annabelle swimming at 4:00. Don't worry, it's already paid for. She can walk that far, don't worry. And on Monday, she only has a half-day of school, so you'll have to get her there early and pick her up at noon."

"What about for the rest of the day? And Sunday?" I asked, adding, with a whisper, "I don't know how much more tea party I can take."

Jackson laughed. "Why don't you try taking her shopping? She's been really interested in clothes recently. You could probably get her a cute outfit for twenty-five dollars. On us, of course."

It was only 1:00, so I had easily two hours before we'd have to get ready for swimming. I have no idea how parents deal with kids all the time. I was already exhausted and it'd been less than twenty-four hours! I'd never been a fan of shopping, for clothes in particular, but if it would convince Annabelle to cover up, I couldn't really complain. "Ok."

Mom interrupted. "Is Annabelle there? Can you put us on speaker?"

I hit the beep, and she said, "How was your day, honey?"

I held the phone down so the girl's head was closer and she yipped cheerfully, "It was really good. We just played tea, and before we got to watch cartoons."

Jackson laughed. "I hope Paul enjoyed those too."

"Yeah, he did," Anna said confidently. "But I did hurt my vulva!"

I almost dropped my phone. Who says stuff like that to their parents!? But Mom just said, "I'm sorry dear. How did it happen? Are you okay?"

"I was trying to masturbate, like it said in the book, but I scratched it."

"Oh, honey," Mom said. "We'll talk about it when we get back. Sorry, Paul."

Jackson interrupted Mom, though, saying, "No, it's okay, Sharon." There was a bit of whispering on the phone, but Jackson continued ahead anyway, asking, "Sweetie, you're going to want to be really careful, okay? I'm not sure you're ready to masturbate. Does it still hurt?"

I was about to walk out of the room. I didn't need to be hearing this. I was having a hard enough time talking to Annabelle about this, but in front of Mom? "She's fine," I interjected.

Jackson said, "Let her say it."

I looked at Annabelle. She glanced at the phone and said, "No, it's okay now. Pie kissed it and made it better."

A pause on the line before all hell broke loose. I grabbed the phone in a blind panic and stammered, "I did not!" at the same time that Mom asked, "You what??"

"That's not how it -" I started.

"Paul, you -"

"Did I say something wrong?" Annabelle asked, shrinking away.

"Quiet down!" Jackson barked, his sharp, commanding tone stopping all of us at once. He said, "No, sweetie, you didn't say anything wrong. Sharon, we can trust Paul. Isn't that right, Paul?"

"Yes, sir," I said quickly. Why did I say sir? I often called my Mom 'bitch'.

Jackson's voice was simple and clear. "That's good enough for me. Sharon?"

She was a bit too begrudging, but Mom said, "Yes."

Jackson said, "Alright, we've got to go now. Have fun at the mall and the pool!"

And like that, the call was over, and my heart was slowing down. Did that really just happen? Annabelle accused me of kissing her spade (which I only sort of did), and her parents just...trusted me anyway? Dad would probably have smacked me, before even bothering to hear my side. Jackson just trusted me without even hearing the context.

"What'd I say wrong?" Anna said.

In my relief I hadn't noticed the little shepherd trembling below me.

Before I remembered Jackson's request, I blurted out, "I'm not supposed to, y'know, touch your privates."

"What's privates?"

I blinked. "Haven't the other girls at school talked about it?"

"Yes, but I don't know what it is."

Well, the cat was out of the bag already, so I explained, "Private is like, stuff you keep to yourself or do alone. That's why we wear clothes."

"So," she said, gears turning in her head, "A boy's penis and a girl's vulva are supposed to be kept to yourself?"

"A lot of people think that. But not your parents, okay?" I said, hoping to stem the damage.

"Do you think that, Pie?"

I sat down, at a loss. "Yes," I admitted. "But you don't have to be like everyone else, okay?"

"I wanna be like you," she said. "Can we go shopping, like Dad said?"

With a deep breath, I nodded, grateful for any excuse to be done with this conversation. This would be so much easier if I just told the kid to shut up and be embarrassed like a normal person. If I made her entertain herself. But I couldn't.

Jackson expected more from me.