For the previous edition, visit here.

With Frankie’s arm firmly tucked under her own, Birdie skipped toward the Pemberly Pet Shop.  Her heart raced in her chest and her stomach tightened.  Normally, Birdie avoided all commercial pet enterprises, unless it was a co-op or feed store of some sort.  The knot grew tighter as her mind flashed back to the time a friend’s parent had taken them to the pet shop one afternoon.  Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head as her breath quickened in her throat.  The echoes of the hollow barks ricocheted around her mind, the mournful mewing drilling in her ears…

“Birdie!  Watch out!”

Frankie jerked back, pulling Birdie with her.  Birdie’s eyes popped open as her body lurched upward.  A giggling toddler on a tricycle careened inches from their shins as his mother chased after them, her wildly swinging purse smacking into Birdie’s side.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman panted, barely glancing at them.  “Tommy!  Tommy!  Come back!”

Shaking her head, Frankie eyed Birdie.  “What’s with you?  Are you ok?  You went into a trance or something.”  Her copper eyebrow curled off her forehead.  “Were you meditating?”

Birdie forced a smile on her face.  Normally, Frankie’s comment would have made her snort with laughter.  But right now, with her heart thumping and her mind swirling and spinning with sounds and images like a million televisions screaming, she could barely speak.  “Pet shops weird me out, I guess,” she said carefully, sucking in her breath between her teeth.  With every step down the sidewalk, anxiety pricked.

But she had to know about the Pemberly Pet Shop.  She didn’t know why; but she knew she had to know.

“Why are we going if you hate pet shops?” Frankie asked, her eyebrow still curled high.  “You’re the one that was curious!  It’s not like my parents will let me bring home a pet.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Birdie replied, gritting her teeth as she steered her friend down the sidewalk again.  “Let’s just say I had a bad experience once.”

Frankie shrugged and let herself be drug down the sidewalk.  “Why don’t you have any pets, Birdie?  You love animals.”

Birdie shrugged.  “The only animals my parents like are on the endangered species list, just because they’re a cause then.”

Frankie giggled.  “I bet if you rescued animals they would let you keep them.”  She nudged Birdie.  “Perhaps we’ll rescue you a puppy or kitten at the pet store, huh?”

An automatic shiver slid down Birdie’s spine.  A wistful smile stretched across her face as she eyed some birds preening on a telephone line.  “I used to rescue animals all the time when we lived out in the country. Birds, foxes, raccoons…but as soon as they were healed, I always had to let them go.  Ah, there it is!”  She pointed to a green sign with bright gold letters.  “Pemberly Pet Shop.”

Frankie eyed her.  “Are you sure you can do this?  I don’t want you trancing out again in the store.  Especially if there’s snakes.  If there’s snakes and rats I only want to stay ten minutes.”  She shuddered.  “I hate snakes.  And rats.”  Her nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed.  “They’re so nasty.”

“I just want to see what’s so different about it,” Birdie promised, ignoring the knot in her stomach as she pushed the door open.  “We won’t stay long.”

The door bells chimed as the girls stepped into the shop.  Blinking in the dim light compared to the bright sunlight outside, Birdie glanced around the shop.  At first glance, it looked like a typical pet shop.  There were cages and aquariums for sale in the center, along with rows holding food, shampoos and perfumes, dog and cat beds and ferret playpens.  The back wall was a giant tank, with dozens of colorful fish bobbing along schools of tiny silver darts and bright orange and black goldfish.  Smaller tanks surrounded it, with bright tropical fish and tiny seahorses and florescent frogs.

Suddenly, Birdie felt something cold and wet press against her toes.  Jerking back, she glanced down and smiled.

“I’m sorry,” she informed the tiny mop of a dog who was carefully sniffing each toe.  She squatted down and held out her hand.  A pink tounge leaped out from a black ball of fur, bathing her hand rapidly, then returning as quickly as it had emerged.  Satisfied, the puppy trotted over to investigate Frankie.

“He likes you,” an amused voice drawled.  Birdie’s head snapped up.  A extremely thin man with a tuft of yellow hair and thick black glasses was smiling several feet away, a large purring tabby draped in his arms.  His back was curled like a question mark and his feet stretched out in opposite directions like skies that refused to touch.

“All animals like Birdie,” Frankie replied proudly.  “She’s got a connection with them.”

The man nodded, bobbing his head.  With his pinched face and narrow chin, he reminded Birdie of a pigeon pecking crumbs off the sidewalk.  “I am Percy Pemberly.  I took over the shop from my grandfather.  How can I help you?”

Frankie opened her mouth, but Birdie interrupted.  “We’re just looking.  Thanks.”

“You don’t have any snakes, do you?” Frankie asked, glancing around nervously.  “Or rats?”  She eyed the large cat with disdain.  The cat yawned, revealing a black spotted tongue.  “Either that cat has eaten a lot of rats or way too much tuna.”

“Tuna,” Percy replied with a shrill giggle.  “He’s never met a rat or a mouse, I’m afraid.  Spoiled rotten, he is.  And to answer your question, we don’t have any snakes or rats.  Today, at least.”

“Today?” Frankie echoed, her voice hollow.

Ignoring the conversation, Birdie stepped further into the shop.  It smelled like most pet shops she had been too–the straw of hamster bedding, the clean plastic smell from food bowls and gerbil cages…but there was something missing.  As Frankie talked to Percy, she wondered up and down the aisles, her eyes roaming over the colorful packages of bones and catnip along side leashes and harnesses.

Suddenly, it struck her.  It was so obvious.  She should have noticed it right away.  She glanced over at the right wall, stepping closer and narrowing her eyes.

“What do you think?” Percy asked, popping out behind the flea medicine aisle.  “Do you like the shop?”

Birdie turned to him and crossed her arms.  “Where are the animals?  You’ve got cages for them, and there’s signs for hamsters and gerbils and ferrets and puppies and kittens….but there’s not a single animal here.”

“Hey, that’s right!”  Frankie exclaimed.  “You’ve got toys out and everything.  Where are the animals at?  I wonder if this is what my dad was talking about.  Do you not sell animals?”

“We do,” Percy replied.  “They’re here.”

Birdie crossed her arms.  “Where?” she demanded.  She eyed the back door.  “Are you keeping them back there?  What are you doing to them?”  She gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into her arms.  “I demand to see them.”

Percy’s face twisted into a cross between a smile and a smirk.  “It’s not my fault you can’t see them,” he replied.  “You’re surrounded by them.”

To be continued….

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a new recipe and Friday, a new Dallas Jean!  Saturday we have a new feature and more fun!  Stay tuned!