Free My Sister's Voice by Mary Carter Page B

Man’s best friend was everywhere. In line for biscuits, sitting by the door, barking at something crawling up the wall, and licking the shoes of humans in line with them.
    “It’s a bakery for dogs,” Kelly exclaimed. “You turned her against children.” She and Lacey shared a laugh.
    “She wouldn’t even let us get a dog back then,” Lacey said.
    “That’s right,” Kelly said. “You led a hunger strike over it.”
    “I made it twenty-four hours. Nobody else made it past snack time.” Kelly made a face; Lacey knew she didn’t like to be reminded of how weak she was back then.
    “Now you paint dogs and she feeds them,” Kelly said. Lacey was more than just a pet and portrait artist, and Kelly, who’d scoured the Internet for everything pertaining to Lacey, knew this very well. Lacey’s Web site showcased her abstract paintings, her landscapes, her still lifes. Kelly was just getting back at her for the jab about the hunger strike. It was true, Kelly wasn’t afraid of her anymore. Bummer. “They smell so good I could actually eat one,” Kelly said.
    “A dog or a biscuit?” Lacey asked.
    “Funny.”
    “Go ahead,” Lacey said. “I won’t tell.”
    “You touched your nose,” Kelly yelled. “You touched your nose!”
    “I did not,” Lacey said. Kelly signed “lie” and shook her finger at Lacey. Enough of the good old days. Lacey looked down the line of canines and owners and tried to spot Margaret behind the counter. She saw a young girl with a round face and mousy brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and a skinny boy with thick sideburns and a receding hairline despite his baby face.
    “I’ll go ask them about Margaret,” Kelly said. Lacey hung back, and soon the round-faced girl pointed out a narrow staircase to their right. The girl was easy to lip-read.
    “She lives up there.” Kelly hurried over to Lacey and started to interpret, but Lacey was already headed for the stairs.
    “Wait in the car,” she told Kelly.
    “No,” Kelly said. “Why?”
    “This isn’t exactly a friendly visit,” Lacey said.
    “I know,” Kelly said. “I’m in.”
    Lacey went first, taking the steps two at a time. At the top of the stairs were a small vestibule and a closed door. It was plastered with Polaroid photos of various animals. On closer look, they were all pictures of a fluffy black cat. There had to be at least fifty of him. In most his fur was sticking straight out of his massive body, as if he’d just stuck his little paw in the nearest outlet. The name BLACKIE was displayed underneath each picture. Blackie curled up on the bed, Blackie sitting on the arm of the couch, Blackie stretched tall, as if someone had just yelled, “Sit up straight,” Blackie wearing a tux, Blackie next to a giant cutout mouse, Blackie sitting on the kitchen counter with an apron and a chef hat, and finally, in the bottom corner, Blackie at what looked suspiciously like Disney World.
    “She never took us to Disney World!” Kelly said. “Wait. Did she take you guys to Disney World after I left?” Lacey stared at Kelly’s protruding lower lip and debated messing with her. In the end, she told the truth. She needed Kelly on her side.
    “Never,” she said.
    “Bitch,” Kelly said. She made a fist and knocked on the door. They waited. She knocked again. “Do you hear anything?” Lacey asked. Kelly stuck her ear up to the door, then shook her head. She knocked a third time.
    “Margaret?” she called. “It’s Kelly and Lacey.”
    “You didn’t tell her I was coming, right?” Lacey said. Kelly looked away. “I told you not to tell her!”
    “I’m sorry. I thought she’d be thrilled.”
    Lacey pushed Kelly aside and pounded on the door. “Margaret,” she yelled. “Open the door.” Lacey didn’t know exactly what her deaf voice sounded like, but later Kelly would tell her that, down below, dogs began to howl. Lacey tried the door. It was locked. She stepped back.
    “What are you doing?” Kelly