I looked over at Zoe, and she smiled and nodded. Was she actually excited to go on an Arcade adventure?

The golden coin slot popped up, looking like a miniature doghouse.

“Throw it in, Arcade!”

I did. It fell with a clunk through the top of the roof. I clapped my hands together and then pulled them apart. The doors opened.

*  *  *

Christmas carols play over the elevator speakers.

Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree,

How lovely are your branches . . .

I hum along. “That’s nice. Christmas music always makes me feel hopeful.” I breathe in deep and imagine how much slobber will be on my face if I can just find Loopy.

The ride is short, and the elevator doors open up onto an ice-skating rink.

“So where’s our skates?” Zoe looks around the elevator. “You didn’t ask for skates?”

Zoe shoves me out and, on the first step, I slip, slide, and spin around on my backside. When I finally stop, I look up. “HEY! There’s the tree!”

Zoe steps out but doesn’t slide. She just turns around in those black boots of hers that have killer gripper-treads on the bottom. She looks up at the tree. “Nice. But we can’t go up there without getting stopped by security. How are we going to find Loopy?”

I put my fingers to my mouth and I whistle. I’m not a great whistler, though. It always sounds like a dying squirrel or something. But Loopy knows the sound.

We both stand there on the ice, looking up at the massive tree, while skaters whizz by. Workers are installing lights on all levels of the Rockefeller Christmas tree.

“If he’s up there, he’ll come out. I’m the only one in the world who whistles like that.”

“And that’s a very good thing,” Zoe says.

We wait and we watch. I whistle again.

Zoe puts her fingers in her ears. “Come out, Loopy, and save my eardrums.”

And then we see him! On the tallest level, of course!

“Loopy! Come down here, boy!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

Woof! Woof!

He turns and runs toward the middle of the tree. I can’t see him anymore.

“Come on, Zoe! We have to get to the base of the tree, ASAP!”

I grab Zoe’s hand and we run off the ice. Well, at least Zoe does. I just slip again and slide head first like a baseball player into home plate. I do this several times till we reach the exit.

“Arcade! This way!” Zoe waves her arms and runs around the ice rink, up toward the monster-tree construction site.

How many lights do they use on this thing, anyway? Over 50,000. You read it in New York City: A Coffee Table Tour.