other car too.”
“To the tune of?” asked my dad.
My mom mumbled something I couldn’t hear, and my dad let out a low whistle.
“Vey iz mir,” said my dad, sounding remarkably like Ace. “Never a dull moment. But what matters is, he’s okay. He
is
okay, right?”
“I think so. Although, I swear, Nate, he really does seem to be in a fog sometimes. Half the time I talk to him, I don’t think he hears a word I say.”
“Yeah, and the other half of the time he doesn’t listen,” said my dad.
My mom laughed softly. “At any rate,” she said, “he’s home, which is the important thing. They didn’t feel the need to keep him for observation. Frankly, I think he was more embarrassed than anything.”
Yeah, right
, I thought as the spaghetti-slurping scoundrel struggled to wriggle out of my grasp. Ace-the-grandpa is often
embarrassing
. But
embarrassed?
Never.
“What was he doing at the golf course in the first place?” asked my dad.
“You’re asking me?” said my mom. Even though I couldn’t see her, I could tell she was giving my dad a look.
“Is Grandpa’s heart getting attacked again?” whispered Sam, looking scared. He fiddled with the collection of rubber bands he’s refused to take off his wrist since Ace went into the hospital last summer.
“Grandpa’s fine,” I told him.
And I meant it. Ace-the-grandpa was as loud and weird and embarrassing and unstoppable as ever. Ace-the-dog was as rambunctious and wild and untrainable as ever.
What was in critical condition was my sleepover plan.
The next night, Ace appeared at my bedroom door shortly after dinner.
“NU?” he said. “YOU READY FOR CLASS?”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. Ace had been in his room more or less nonstop since Mom had brought him home from his fender bender. Over pizza, she had told me and Sam not to bother Ace, since he was a little “shaky” from the car accident.
“How am I supposed to get to class tonight if Ace doesn’t go?” I had asked.
“Well, I suppose I could take you.”
“How? Dad has the station wagon and Ace wrecked the other car.”
“He didn’t wreck it,” my mom had said. “But you’re right. We’re carless at the moment.”
“Plus what about Sam?”
My mom had let all her breath out at once. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “It sounds like class isn’t in the cards tonight.” I had wanted to suggest other ways I could get there, but the tone of her voice told me to drop it. But now it sounded like Ace had worked some magic after I went upstairs.
“We’re going?” I asked Ace. It was disorienting to see him acting like his usual impatient self, plus he seemed to be suggesting the exact opposite of what my mom had said earlier. “Did Dad come back or did Mom find us a ride?” I asked.
“NEITHER. BUT I GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT,” said Ace. “GET YOUR COAT.”
“Okay, but how—?”
“I TOLD YOU. I GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT. FOLLOW ME.”
Ace-the-dog wagged his whole body with excitement. Clearly, he thought this was a terrific plan!
“Fine,” I said, grabbing an extra sweater and my hoodie. Together, we went downstairs.
“Shouldn’t we tell Mom?” I asked.
Ace shrugged. “WE’RE OFF TO CLASS,” he bellowed.
“What are you talking about?” asked my mom, rushing into the kitchen looking concerned. “You’re not supposed to be driving. And besides, Nate has the only working car.”
“I MADE A PLAN. WE’RE ALL SET.”
“You’re getting a ride?”
“NO. WE’RE GOING TO FLAP OUR WINGS AND FLY.”
From the look on my mom’s face, I could tell she wanted to say something else.
“Please, Mom,” I said before she could. “I really don’t want to miss class.”
My mom looked from Ace to me.
“Mommy!” whined Sam from upstairs. “I can’t find Susie.” Without her, Sam could not, would not, sleep.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” called my mom. To Ace, she said, “Okay, fine. Nate can pick you up if you need him to.”
“Thanks,
“To the tune of?” asked my dad.
My mom mumbled something I couldn’t hear, and my dad let out a low whistle.
“Vey iz mir,” said my dad, sounding remarkably like Ace. “Never a dull moment. But what matters is, he’s okay. He
is
okay, right?”
“I think so. Although, I swear, Nate, he really does seem to be in a fog sometimes. Half the time I talk to him, I don’t think he hears a word I say.”
“Yeah, and the other half of the time he doesn’t listen,” said my dad.
My mom laughed softly. “At any rate,” she said, “he’s home, which is the important thing. They didn’t feel the need to keep him for observation. Frankly, I think he was more embarrassed than anything.”
Yeah, right
, I thought as the spaghetti-slurping scoundrel struggled to wriggle out of my grasp. Ace-the-grandpa is often
embarrassing
. But
embarrassed?
Never.
“What was he doing at the golf course in the first place?” asked my dad.
“You’re asking me?” said my mom. Even though I couldn’t see her, I could tell she was giving my dad a look.
“Is Grandpa’s heart getting attacked again?” whispered Sam, looking scared. He fiddled with the collection of rubber bands he’s refused to take off his wrist since Ace went into the hospital last summer.
“Grandpa’s fine,” I told him.
And I meant it. Ace-the-grandpa was as loud and weird and embarrassing and unstoppable as ever. Ace-the-dog was as rambunctious and wild and untrainable as ever.
What was in critical condition was my sleepover plan.
The next night, Ace appeared at my bedroom door shortly after dinner.
“NU?” he said. “YOU READY FOR CLASS?”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. Ace had been in his room more or less nonstop since Mom had brought him home from his fender bender. Over pizza, she had told me and Sam not to bother Ace, since he was a little “shaky” from the car accident.
“How am I supposed to get to class tonight if Ace doesn’t go?” I had asked.
“Well, I suppose I could take you.”
“How? Dad has the station wagon and Ace wrecked the other car.”
“He didn’t wreck it,” my mom had said. “But you’re right. We’re carless at the moment.”
“Plus what about Sam?”
My mom had let all her breath out at once. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “It sounds like class isn’t in the cards tonight.” I had wanted to suggest other ways I could get there, but the tone of her voice told me to drop it. But now it sounded like Ace had worked some magic after I went upstairs.
“We’re going?” I asked Ace. It was disorienting to see him acting like his usual impatient self, plus he seemed to be suggesting the exact opposite of what my mom had said earlier. “Did Dad come back or did Mom find us a ride?” I asked.
“NEITHER. BUT I GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT,” said Ace. “GET YOUR COAT.”
“Okay, but how—?”
“I TOLD YOU. I GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT. FOLLOW ME.”
Ace-the-dog wagged his whole body with excitement. Clearly, he thought this was a terrific plan!
“Fine,” I said, grabbing an extra sweater and my hoodie. Together, we went downstairs.
“Shouldn’t we tell Mom?” I asked.
Ace shrugged. “WE’RE OFF TO CLASS,” he bellowed.
“What are you talking about?” asked my mom, rushing into the kitchen looking concerned. “You’re not supposed to be driving. And besides, Nate has the only working car.”
“I MADE A PLAN. WE’RE ALL SET.”
“You’re getting a ride?”
“NO. WE’RE GOING TO FLAP OUR WINGS AND FLY.”
From the look on my mom’s face, I could tell she wanted to say something else.
“Please, Mom,” I said before she could. “I really don’t want to miss class.”
My mom looked from Ace to me.
“Mommy!” whined Sam from upstairs. “I can’t find Susie.” Without her, Sam could not, would not, sleep.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” called my mom. To Ace, she said, “Okay, fine. Nate can pick you up if you need him to.”
“Thanks,
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