Spike was a tough kid from the streets. Theo was not. Theo was a nice kid from a good family, a Boy Scout, an A student with plenty of friends. How was he supposed to survive locked away with gang members and tough guys? Separated from his parents, his friends, Judge. He was overwhelmed with fear and could think of nothing else. He stretched out on Judge’s little bed, and, fortunately, fell asleep beside his dog.

A beeping cell phone awakened him. It was April Finnemore. “Theo, where are you?” she asked nervously.

“At the office,” he said, jumping to his feet. “What’s up?”

“I’m in Animal Court with my mom and Miss Petunia. We need your help.”

“I think I’m sort of confined right now.”

“Come on, Theo. We’re really scared and need you. It won’t take long.”

“I didn’t say I would help this woman.”

“I know, Theo, I know. But she’s really upset and needs a friend. Please, Theo. She can’t afford a real lawyer and, well, she’s been crying for the past hour. Please.”

Theo thought for a second. No one had specifically ordered him to remain at the office. Everyone else was super busy and probably wouldn’t miss him. “Okay,” he said, and slapped his phone shut.

“Stay here, Judge,” he said, then eased out of the back door, ran around to the front of the building, and quietly got his bike off the front porch. Ten minutes later he was parking it at the bike rack in front of the courthouse.

Miss Petunia grew flowers and herbs in a yard behind her small cottage just outside the city limits of Strattenburg. Every Saturday morning from March through October, she hauled her plants to the city Farmer’s Market in Levi Park near the river. There, she joined dozens of farmers, gardeners, florists, fishermen, dairymen, producers, and other vendors who displayed their goods in booths that were arranged in neat rows on small patches of land that were carefully divided and regulated. Because Miss Petunia had been selling her flowers and herbs for many years, she had perhaps the best booth, one next to the entrance to the market. Next door to her was the booth run by May Finnemore, April’s eccentric mother, who made and sold goat cheese. Miss Petunia was pretty weird, too, and naturally the women had become close friends over the years.

The market was wildly popular in Strattenburg, and on a bright Saturday morning half of the town would be there. Virtually anything edible could be found. Crispino’s Tortilla Hut was the all-time favorite, with a long line forming by 10:00 a.m. Martha Lou sold her “World Famous” ginger cookies by the pound and always attracted a mob. Many of the vendors relied on the market to show a profit for the year, and there was a waiting list of those wanting booths.

Because Mrs. Boone spent little time in the kitchen, the family was not attracted to the market. Theo and his father played eighteen holes of golf on Saturday mornings, teeing off at 9:00 and having lunch at 1:00. To Theo, this was far more important than buying tomatoes and veggie burgers.

Miss Petunia was having trouble with the law because of her beloved pet llama, Lucy. April had mentioned the matter to Theo the day before during lunch, but he had been too preoccupied with his own troubles to worry about Miss Petunia’s. At April’s request, though, he had done some research into the city’s laws and ordinances. He had passed this along to April and considered the matter closed, as far as he was concerned.

Certain that he was already a marked man and the subject of gossip all over town, and especially around the courthouse, Theo entered through a side door and hustled down a back stairway. Animal Court was in the basement, a fitting place for the lowest court in town. Real lawyers tried to avoid it. People with complaints could act as their own lawyers, and that is what attracted Theo to it. On most days anyway. Today, though, Theo was not excited about making an appearance in court.

For the first time in his life, the word “court” meant a place to be avoided.

He entered the door for Animal Court and walked inside. There was a dusty aisle down the middle of the room with folding chairs on both sides. To his right, Theo saw April, her mother, May, and a third person he assumed to be Miss Petunia. She had purple hair and round granny glasses with bright-orange frames. April had described her as “weirder than my mother.”

Theo sat down and began whispering with the women.

Judge Yeck was not on the bench. Across the aisle, several people were waiting. One was Buck Boland, or Buck Baloney as he was better known, and he was wearing his standard tight-fitting dark brown uniform, one issued by All-Pro Security. Buck wore the uniform everywhere, on duty or off, and he’d been wearing it last Monday morning when he stopped Theo as he cut across his backyard. He had grabbed Theo’s bike and threatened him. Earlier, he had thrown a rock at Theo, and now Buck glared across the aisle as if he would like to strangle him.

Judge Yeck’s ancient clerk sat at a table in one corner, doing her crossword and trying to stay awake. After a few minutes, Judge Yeck walked through the door behind his bench and said, “Remain seated.” No one had attempted to stand. Formalities were dispensed with in Animal Court, also known as Kitty Court. The judge was wearing his usual outfit—jeans, combat boots, no tie, an old sports coat, and he conducted himself with his usual disdain for his job. He had once been in a law firm but couldn’t keep a job. He ran Animal Court because no one else would do it.

“Well, well,” he began with a smile, “it’s Mr. Boone again.”

Theo stood and said, “Hello, Judge. Always nice to see you.”

“And you. Who’s your client?”

“Miss Petunia Plankmore, the owner of the animal.”

Judge Yeck looked at some papers, then looked at Buck Baloney. “And who’s Mr. Boland?”

“That’s me,” Buck said.

“Very well. The parties can come forward and we’ll try and work things out.” Theo knew the routine, and he and Miss Petunia stepped through the small gate in the bar and took a seat at a table closer to the judge. Buck followed them and sat as far away as possible. When they were in place, Judge Yeck said, “Mr. Boland, you have filed this complaint against Miss Petunia. You go first. Keep your seat and tell us what happened.”

Buck looked around nervously, then plunged in. “Well, Judge, I work for All-Pro Security and we have the contract for the Farmer’s Market.”

“Why are you wearing a gun?” the judge asked.

“I’m a security guard.”

“I don’t care.”

“And I have a permit.”

“I don’t care. I don’t allow guns in my courtroom. Please remove it.”

Buck grabbed his holster and snapped it off his belt. He placed it and the gun on the table.

“Up here,” Judge Yeck said, pointing to a spot on his bench. Buck awkwardly stepped forward and placed the gun right where he was told. It was a very large pistol.

“Now go on,” Yeck said when Buck returned to his seat.

“And so anyway, it’s my job to provide security at the Farmer’s Market. There are two of us, me and Frankie. He works the west end, and I watch the front. Been doing it for a few months. And Miss Petunia here has a booth near the front entrance where she sells flowers and herbs, and right next to her booth is a small open area where she keeps her llama.”

“That would be Lucy?” Judge Yeck asked.

“Yes, sir. Two Saturdays ago I was walking by her booth, same as always, just doing my job, you know, when this llama walks up and stares at me. We’re about on the same eye level, me and the llama, and at first I thought she might try and kiss me.”

“The llama kisses people?” Judge Yeck interrupted.

“She’s a very sweet llama, loves people, or most people,” Miss Petunia blurted.

Judge Yeck looked at her and politely, but firmly, said, “You’ll get your chance in a moment. Please do not interrupt.”