Aces Wild (17 page)

“
THIS
IS DIFFERENT, KID,” said Ace, looking flustered. “I MIGHT BE ABLE TO PICK UP A DANCE MOVE OR TWO. BUT A RELATIONSHIP? THAT IS A DIFFERENT ANIMAL ALTOGETHER.”

“In what way?” I asked.

“LOOK, KID,” said Ace, “I APPRECIATE YOUR HELP, BUT THE POINT IS MOOT. SHE SAID TO GIVE HER SPACE. SO SPACE SHE GETS. YOUR MOTHER CAN DRIVE YOU, YES?”

“I guess,” I said. I was really tempted to keep arguing, even though that was never a great strategy with Ace. Mrs. Wright just didn’t want to get her heart broken, after all. And come to think of it, I had pretty much told her if she went out with Ace, she would. Fine, I decided. Maybe I could get there early, or stay late and talk to Mrs. Wright instead. I could convince her to give Ace another chance. I could remind her of all the reasons she liked him in the first place.

Since our car was no longer in the shop, my mom had already agreed to give us a ride. Sam came along, but he looked, well, awful. The reason was, a couple of nights earlier, the unthinkable had happened. Susie-the-whale had sprung yet another leak, but a titanic one this time, and all of her insides, which turned out to be tan nylon stockings, came spilling out her side like she had been harpooned. Mom tried to patch her again, but the fabric was so frayed at this point that she sat Sam down and talked to him about saying goodbye to Susie. Sam cried a lot, but after she agreed to buy him a new “big boy” whale, he finally said okay. Or so Mom claimed.

In the car, Mom turned on the radio, but then she cranked the heat so high we pretty much couldn’t hear it in the back. Sam sat sullenly in his booster seat, slurping on the wrist of his disgusting robe.

“Any idea when the test will be over?” asked my mom.

“Nope,” I said. “Maybe an hour or two? There are twelve dogs that need to take it.”

“Mom?” whined Sam softly. With the heat and the music, I wasn’t sure my mom heard him until she said, “Yes, sweetie?”

“I want Susie.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I want her … big. Like before.”

“I know, sweetie. We talked about that, remember?”

I looked over at Sam, who nodded morosely. Now
that
was what I called grieving. Tears ran down his face, and he looked like he’d never be happy again in a million years. If he weren’t wearing the most disgusting bathrobe on the planet, I might even have reached over and hugged him. That’s how pathetic he looked.

“Mom?” asked Sam again.

My mom’s eyes connected with his in the rearview mirror. “Uh-huh,” she said.

“Did you throw her away?”

“I … I mean, I threw what was left of her away, sweetie, yes. I can show you when we get home. Her stuffing all fell out, and she was so old and worn there wasn’t really much of her left anymore.”

Sam was quiet for a minute, absorbing this. I almost thought he fell asleep, the car was so warm and everything. And then, “Mom? Can I have … what’s left of her?”

“Um, we’ll have to see, hon. I guess when we get home, I can go through the trash and try to find a piece that’s salvageable.…”

But Sam was already asleep. He dropped off as soon as she said
I guess
. With all the noise in the car, he probably thought she said yes.

After being dropped off, I walked Ace up and down the block, just to make sure he got his last nervous peeing taken care of. He sniffed enthusiastically, checking out which of his buddies had already been there and left messages in the snow.

“Come on, Ace!” I said, shivering and giving his leash a yank. “Let’s get this over with.”

And then, to my utter and complete amazement, Ace marched over to a tree …

… and lifted his leg.

“Ace!” I said in surprise. “Good boy!” I couldn’t believe it. He finally did it!

Maybe this was some kind of a sign. Maybe tonight would be the night he’d show off everything he could do!

When I walked in with Ace-the-dog, Mrs. Wright was already testing one of the other dogs. In a little while, she came over to me. “Hi, Zelly,” she said. “Where’s your grandpa?”

“He’s at home,” I said.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Wright. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-huh,” I told her, even though I wanted to say so much more. Starting with the fact that my grandpa was not an old dog. I wanted to remind her of how smart, and what a character, and, well, how
funny
he could be. And even though I had basically already forgiven Allie for what happened at the haunted house, I suddenly understood it for the first time. Allie wasn’t feeling sorry for me. She was trying to make things better for me. Not for the wrong reasons—for the right
ones. I wanted to pour it all right out there to Mrs. Wright. I wanted to say something like,
He actually has feelings for you, but he’s just too afraid to admit it, because even an old person can be the new kid about this. He was married to Bubbles for almost forty-seven years, so you not being Bubbles is a big change for him
.

And then it hit me.

Afraid. Of change.

Ace was afraid of change.

But the other Ace was also afraid. Of c
hange
.

And just like that, I had an idea.

A completely crazy idea.

A so-completely-crazy-it-just-might-work idea.

So, what I said to Mrs. Wright was, “Can I go last? I think Ace needs to go to the bathroom.”

I could have sworn Ace-the-dog gave me a confused look as I dragged him back outside, but he didn’t exactly protest. I dug in my coat pocket and finally came up with my mom’s cell phone. She had loaned it to me so I could call for a ride home. I scrolled through her recently dialed numbers until I found what I was looking for.

Ring … Ring …

Come on
, I begged silently, cupping the phone to my ear while Ace, who seemed to have forgotten his new trick, squatted in the snow.

“HELLO?”

“Hi, it’s me, Zelly.”

“MARILYNN?”

“No, Grandpa. It’s Zelly. I’m using my mom’s phone. I’m at class. You know, for the test.”

“SO NU? DID HE PASS?”

“That’s just it. I need you here! And I forgot something at home, so you have to help me out.” I was so desperate I even crossed my fingers and threw in a “Mrs. Wright says it’s okay” for good measure.

There was no reply. So I took a deep breath and explained exactly what I needed him to bring. “Mom could drive you,” I added.

“SHE’S PUTTING YOUR BROTHER TO BED. THAT’S OKAY, KID. I GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT.”

“You do? That’s great!” I said. Then I remembered
all figured out
and added, “Wait, Grandpa, don’t take the—”

Click
.

“—bus,” I said.

Ace and I went back inside and positioned ourselves off to one side. My hope was maybe Mrs. Wright wouldn’t notice we had returned and that would buy Ace-the-Grandpa more time to get here. One by one, we watched Ace’s classmates take the test. Some of them were pretty good, so I hoped Ace was paying attention.
Just do it like that
, I told him,
and everything will be fine
. Of course, Ace was too excited about the dogs walking by us while we waited. Each and every time, he sprang up, hoping his leash would magically disappear so he could join in the fun with whoever was closest.

It made me feel a little better to see that Ace wasn’t the only one with this particular problem. Lady the Great Dane
hated to lie down, so the minute her owner left the room, she popped back up like a jack-in-the-box. Mika the schnauzer did an impressive job staying down, but only because she fell asleep and didn’t even notice when her owner came back. Cheeto, the yellow Lab puppy, tried to follow his owner out to the hall, and a beagle mix named Max
hoooo​owwww​wl
ed, reminding me fondly of Bridget. Mrs. Wright shook her head at poor Max, writing on her clipboard. I felt bad for Max’s owner but also a little better for myself.
Mrs. Wright couldn’t flunk everyone
, I reasoned.
Could she?

Finally, Mrs. Wright pointed at me and motioned for me and Ace to come over. I looked around the room. Every other dog had completed the test.

I glanced at the door. No sign of Ace-the-grandpa. I closed my eyes and wished for him to magically appear.

I opened my eyes.

Bupkis.

“Zelly? It’s time. You’re up, kiddo,” said Mrs. Wright.

I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding. “Come on, Ace,” I said out loud.

But in my head, I wasn’t talking to my dog.

The test started out okay, even though I was nervous with everyone watching. Mrs. Wright said, “Ask your dog to sit,” and before I even could, Ace sat. He wagged his tail but didn’t jump up during the stranger-approach part, and he stayed good and down in his short stay. I saw Mrs. Wright making notes on her clipboard, but even that didn’t spook me. Ace wasn’t doing a perfect job, but he was doing good enough. Hopefully, this would help when we got to the long stay.

And then it was time for the final challenge. The way the long stay worked, I had to leave the room and Ace had to continue to stay where I had put him until I came back and gave him the release command. We’d practiced a million times at home, but Ace had never successfully pulled it off. He always, always got up to look for me, frantically forlorn I was gone forever.

I squatted down to look at Ace eye to eye. Sweet Ace, who tried so hard to be good, yet still couldn’t help being so very, well, Ace. I locked eyes with him and tried to mentally convey everything I was feeling at that very moment:
Hey, buddy. I know it makes you crazy when I walk away, because it makes you feel like I’m never going to come back for you, and maybe it even makes you feel like you’re going to end up back at the shelter again instead of living at our house. But I promise I’ll be back. As soon as the two minutes are up and they let me back in. But you’ve got to trust me, Ace, because if you hop up and run around trying to find me, you’ll flunk the test, and then, well, I don’t know but it definitely won’t be good. So please, please, please …

But just as I was about to put Ace into his long stay and say a little prayer to anybody who might happen to be listening, the door opened.

In walked Ace.

Ace-the-grandpa, that is.

Without even acknowledging me, or Ace-the-dog, or Mrs. Wright, he crossed the room and sat down—still wearing the Baxter State—in a folding chair. Just as I had requested, he was carrying something familiar in his arms.

An old plastic orange juice jug with a face drawn on it.
The one “dog” who
always
stayed right where you put him. O.J.

Ace-the-grandpa stared at Ace-the-dog.

Ace-the-dog stared at O.J.

Hrnnnn
, whined Ace softly, remembering The Awful Noise.

“Zelly?” said Mrs. Wright, ignoring Ace-the-grandpa’s entrance. “We’re waiting, dear.”

“Ace,” I said out loud, but the first Ace I looked at wasn’t my dog. I stared at Ace-the-grandpa and silently willed him to behave.
Sit
, I thought.
Stay. And above all, DO NOT shake O.J
.

I willed all of the same things at Ace-the-dog.

“Stay, Ace,” I said.

Then I turned and walked out of the room.

Those were the longest two minutes of my life.

When Mrs. Wright came out to the hall to get me, I felt this giddy jolt of excitement.
Maybe he did it. Maybe Ace finally did it. Maybe Ace sat. And stayed. And passed!

I opened the door and saw:

Ace-the-grandpa on his feet, facing off with Ace-the-dog. Definitely not sitting.

Ace-the-dog on his feet, his back to the door. Definitely not staying.

And all over the floor, in every direction:

Money.

Dimes and quarters and nickels and dollar bills and lots and lots of pennies.

Then I noticed what Ace-the-dog had in his mouth:

O.J.

His feet were planted in his favorite tug-of-war stance. As were Ace-the-grandpa’s feet, since he was holding on firmly to the leash I used to walk O.J. with.

“Ace, NO!” I yelled.

Both Aces turned to look at me.

“DROP!” I ordered.

And, miraculously, Ace-the-dog suddenly dropped O.J., who landed with a thud because many of the coins were still inside of him.

I marched over and grabbed O.J. by the handle, then Ace by the leash. I could feel the tears coming, which made everything worse. I stormed out into the hall and sat down in the stairwell. Ace smiled at me and threw his wiggling, licking self at me, doggily clueless and thrilled to pieces to see me.
Oh boy, you’re back!
He grinned gleefully. “Ace, you don’t understand,” I told him, even though I was grateful he wanted to cheer me up. Or maybe he just liked the salty taste of my tears.

Through the glass window on the door, I saw everyone filing out of the auditorium, leading their dogs, talking, laughing, and carrying certificates. I could see Ace and Mrs. Wright talking—which was what I wanted, but not like this. In my head, it had gone differently. My dream had been that Ace-the-dog would see O.J., remember The Awful Noise, and decide to actually stay, for a change.

Ace came out in a few minutes. No certificate, just a little slip of paper that looked like it could be one of Hailey Larson’s sleepover party invitations. Ace held it out to me.