Aces Wild by Erica S. Perl Read Free Book Online Page A

raising her hand.
    “Your neighbor can watch your dog,” added Mrs. Wright. “This will just take a moment.”
    Since it didn’t seem like I had a choice, I handed Ace’s leash to the lady standing next to me and walked to the center of the circle to join Ace and Mrs. Wright.
    “Okay, go ahead,” said Mrs. Wright to Ace.
    “SCHLEMIEL!” said Ace in his booming voice. Several people laughed.
    “Sorry?” I said.
    “SCHLEMIEL,” repeated Ace, smiling.
    “Grandpa, stop it,” I whispered. I was pretty sure a schlemiel was a weirdo or a loser, but I didn’t know why he was saying it again and again. Especially in front of all these people.
    “SCHLEMIEL!” insisted Ace. He reached into his pocket and pulled out half a roll of butterscotch Life Savers. Holding the candy, he walked over and gestured to a folding chair Mrs. Wright had just set up. “SCHLEMIEL, SCHLEMIEL!” he said emphatically.
    “Okay, well, schlemiel to you too,” I said, suddenly understanding. I sat down in the chair.
    “MAZEL TOV!” said Ace. I looked up and saw that Ace’s hand was right in front of my face, holding a somewhat linty Life Saver.
    “No thanks,” I said.
    “TAKE IT. I’M MARKING YOU.”
    “Fine.” I took the Life Saver, but I didn’t eat it.
    “Great job, Zelly!” said Mrs. Wright, beaming. “Let’s all give Zelly and Ace a big round of applause.”
    Ace flapped his hand modestly, like this was unnecessary. But he didn’t return to his seat. Instead, he started lecturing the group.
    “I USED YIDDISH TO MAKE A POINT,” he announced. “TO A DOG, ENGLISH, YIDDISH—IT’S ALL THE SAME. IT’S GIBBERISH!”
    “Exactly,” said Mrs. Wright.
    “HE DOESN’T KNOW A
HEEL
FROM A
SCHLEMIEL
.”
    “Precisely,” she added.
    “HE’S IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY. DOESN’T KNOW THE LANGUAGE. HE’S THE NEW KID.”
    Like I was
, I thought, looking down at Ace. He was wagging his tail and smiling expectantly, as if he hoped some scrumptious morsel might magically materialize. New was good by him. Tasty, even! Clearly, Ace-the-dog was the Jeremy kind of new kid.
    “BEFORE THE DOG CAN LEARN, THE MASTER HAS TO.”
    “I love that,” said Mrs. Wright. “That’s it exactly! So, now let’s all try playing the Name Game. But as you are calling your dog, try to put yourself in his shoes. Er, so to speak.”
    “IT’S JUST FASCINATING,” said Ace as we left class.
    “What?”
    “THE EVOLUTION OF ATTITUDES,” said Ace. “WHEN I WAS A LITTLE PISHER, DISCIPLINE—OF CHILDREN, MUCH LESS ANIMALS—INVOLVED A STERN VOICE AND A STEADY HAND.”
    I had never thought about Ace being a kid. He had been a grandpa my whole life. “Were you ever the new kid?” I asked.
    “SURE,” he said. “WHEN I FIRST CAME OVER. AND AGAIN WHEN MY FAMILY MOVED FROM THE LOWER EAST SIDE TO BROOKLYN. BUT YOU KNOW WHEN I REALLY FELT LIKE THE NEW KID? WHEN YOUR GRANDMOTHER AND I MOVED TO VERMONT.”
    I had to laugh at that. “But, Grandpa, you were, like,
old
,” I said.
    “WATCH IT, KID!” protested Ace.
    “I mean you were a grown-up,” I explained. I remembered seeing the movers put their things in a truck when I was little. At the time, I thought they were going to live in the truck. I was jealous because it had a ramp up the back. I thought it would make a great slide, and I wished I could live in their new “house” too.
    “YOUR GRANDMOTHER WANTED TO MOVE HERE, NOT ME,” said Ace. “I WOULD HAVE BEEN PERFECTLY HAPPY STAYING IN BROOKLYN, WHERE I KNEW WHERE TO GET EVERYTHING I LIKED.”
    “Dad says he’s found a place to get bagels here that are acceptable,” I told him.
    “PFFFT!”
Ace made a face to express his strong disagreement with my dad’s optimism on the bagel front. “YOU WANT TO TALK UNACCEPTABLE, YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT PASSES FOR CHINESE FOOD HERE. FEH! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR GRANDMOTHER SAID?”
    “What?”
    “SHE SAID, ‘DON’T BE AFRAID OF CHANGE.’ ANDSHE WAS RIGHT. IT’S HARD, BUT IT JUST TAKES TIME.”
    I nodded.