Free Aces Wild by Erica S. Perl Page B

door open—but I followed right behind.
    “Thanks for the ride!” I yelled before slamming the door.
Yip! Grrr! Yip!
went Rosie, acting tough because Ace-the-dog was no longer in the car.
    I started up our front walk before realizing Ace-the-grandpa was still in the car. I paused. Should I wait for him? I kind of had to, since he had the keys, or at least I hoped he did.
    A minute passed. Then another. It was really cold. I could’ve just gone and rung the doorbell to get let in, but I was sort of frozen on the spot, watching Ace and Mrs. Wright. They were talking and laughing, not even noticing that I wasn’t there anymore. Finally, the passenger door swung open. Ace steadied himself on the door and the seat and hoisted himself out.
    “TILL WE MEET AGAIN,” said Ace.
    “Eight o’clock Sunday?” said Mrs. Wright.
    “IT’S A DATE,” said Ace, closing the car door.
    Mrs. Wright giggled girlishly. Then she waved and pulled away from our house.
    “A
date
?” I said incredulously.
    “IT’S NOT A DATE,” said Ace.
    “You said, ‘It’s a date,’ ” I reminded him.
    Ace shrugged. “IT’S NOT A DATE,” he insisted.
    What was wrong with him?!
Trying to add my dog obedience teacher to his gaggle of girlfriends? That was too much.
    “Grandpa, you can’t go out with Mrs. Wright.”
    “OH? WHY IS THAT?”
    “Because …” I stopped, not sure what to say.
Because of Bubbles? Because you’ve already got three girlfriends that we know of? Because what if Mrs. Wright finds out you have three other girlfriends and gets mad and takes it out on me and my puppy. Hey, wait, that was it
.
    “Because she’s Ace’s teacher,” I announced.
    Ace raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. I took this as a sign that I should continue.
    “It would be a—what did you call it? That thing that meant you couldn’t judge my proposal?”
    “A CONFLICT OF INTEREST?”
    “Yes!”
    “KID, FOR YOUR INFORMATION …”
    I stopped paying attention at that point. Ace was in judge mode, bending my ears into pretzels over the legal definition of a “conflict” and how “the doctrine” was “inapplicable in this circumstance.” I thought about telling him that I wasn’t the one who said it, he was. But arguing with Ace was like playing tennis with Jeremy. He was going to win sooner or later, so sometimes it was easier to just get it over with than to take some feeble swipes at the ball and draw it out.
    When he stopped, I slunk off to my room as quickly as I could. Class plus arguing with Ace was a recipe for exhaustion, but for some reason I felt angry instead. All the things I wanted to say but didn’t were boiling up inside of me. I clenched my fists, so frustrated I could scream. When did everything get so messed up? I wanted to call someone, tell someone, but who? Allie? Jeremy? Allie thought Ace was funny, and Jeremy thought he was a genius. The only person who would understand what I was feeling—and who knew Ace so well I wouldn’t have to explain—was Bubbles.
    And Bubbles was gone. She had been for—how long? I unclenched my hands and counted. February to March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October …
    Eight months. Not even a year.
    A year ago, I realized, everything was fine. I still lived in Brooklyn and Bubbles wasn’t even sick yet! I had friends there, and I didn’t have to worry about getting invited to sleepovers because my friends were just like me—none of us had room in our apartments to have them! And my Brooklyn friends were like me in other ways too. Some were Jewish. Some had frizzy hair. Some even had frizzier hair than me! And being the new kid was never a big deal because practically everyone in Brooklyn is from somewhere else.
    Of course, I didn’t have a dog when I lived in Brooklyn. But having a dog wasn’t anywhere near as easy as I’d thought it would be, even with all the “practice” Ace made me get with my stupid “practice dog,” O.J. My gaze fell on O.J.,