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pretending to fix his collar. Without looking at Prater I said, “Come on over here and pet him. He won’t bite.”
    Prater spoke in a quiet voice. “I thought we were going to play twenty-one.”
    â€œYeah, in a second,” Ray said, coming up to Jack. Jack greeted him by snuffling into his hand. “Jack won’t hurt you.”
    â€œI know that!” Prater snapped. He huffed and puffed for a second. “Geez! What’s the big deal?” Shaking his head, he took a few wary steps closer.
    Jack growled.
    Prater jumped back. “I knew it! He’s an attack dog!”
    â€œNo, he’s not!” I tried to calm my voice. “Look,” I said, “bend down so you’re not looming over him. When you stick out your hand, make a loose fist and hold it out so he can sniff it.”
    Prater licked his lips and swallowed before following my instructions. I let the leash out a little and Jack moved toward him, giving his tail a faint wag. When Jack’s nose touched his hand, Prater stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut.
    Jack’s muscles tensed and he barked.
    Prater scrambled backward. “What’s wrong with him?”
    â€œDogs can sense fear,” I started. “He probably—”
    â€œI’m not afraid!” He stood and made a wide arc around us to the driveway. “I just don’t like him, okay? Stupid dog.”
    I pulled Jack closer to me. “He’s not stupid.”
    â€œAlan, just be more relaxed, like with Shadow,” Ray said.
    Prater stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Who cares? I don’t care; he’s just a weird dog, that’s all.”
    I pressed my lips together. I wished I had never come here.
    â€œJack’s not weird,” Ray said and laughed. “You are.” He chucked Prater on the shoulder.
    â€œYeah, right,” Prater said, returning a light punch.
    Ray looked at me. “You want to shoot baskets, then? We could play twenty-one or horse.”
    I jammed my hand into my pocket, fingering the bills. There was probably enough for three cones. Not that I wanted Prater along, but I couldn’t invite Ray without asking Prater, too. Maybe this would work out. If I bought him ice cream, he might be nicer to me. Maybe he would like me better. Maybe he would like Jack better.
    â€œMillie gave me money for ice cream,” I said. “She said I could treat you.” I looked at Prater. “Both of you.”

chapter 11
    T ysko’s sat on the corner down from Ray’s house. We rode past a farmer driving a tractor on the road and turned into the parking lot. Picnic tables sat in front of the store and it looked like a lot of people had the same idea as we did. We leaned our bikes against a table and hurried into line just as a lady was getting her cone.
    When she stepped away from the window, I had eyes only on her triple scoop with sprinkles; I didn’t notice Jack snuffling up to her legs.
    She let out a jagged sound of surprise and backed up so quickly, one vanilla scoop plopped onto the ground. No hesitation on Jack’s part—he immediately started lapping it up.
    I looked at her face. She wasn’t that old, maybe in her twenties. “Sorry about that,” I said. “He was just trying to be friendly.”
    â€œHe scared the heck out of me,” she said. She smiled, but her body tensed against the serving window.
    An older woman leaned out and spoke to me like a teacher. “Better hold your dog a little closer, okay?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” I was just about to offer to pay for that scoop when the older woman said she’d give the girl a whole new cone.
    When she got it, she edged away in the direction opposite of Jack. It bothered me. I wanted to fix her impression of him. “He won’t bite,” I said.
    She laughed at herself and shrugged, walking away.
    â€œGuess she’s scared of dogs,” Prater said.
    Oh,