I’m finally able to pull myself off the ice and make some tracks. I run as fast as a person can when weaving through New York City crowds. Most of the people are taking pictures of the tree and not trying to move out of my way. I whistle again, but it’s drowned out by the sounds of honking horns, construction vehicles, and workers hammering up in the tree.

We finally reach the base. Well, as close as we can get. A short barrier keeps us from it.

“Excuse me, sir? Can I come in there? My dog is on the top level of the tree.”

The security guard looks at me and laughs. “A dog? There are no dogs up there. Just construction elves.”

“Are you sure?” Zoe says. “He’s a little shih-poo, and he’s wearing a head camera.”

“A head camera?”

“Yeah! And he’s taking pictures for his Picture Post account.” Zoe tries to show him on her phone but it’s all glittery. “Sorry. My phone is broken.”

The security guard looks confused, but he pulls out his phone. “I’ve got Picture Post. What’s his username?”

I take a deep breath. “@LoopDogNYC.”

The man pokes letters on the phone, and then grabs his head. “What?!?” He turns the phone so I can see it. Loopy’s posted a picture from the top of the tree, looking down at the ice. There’s a kid sprawled out on his stomach.

I laugh. “Yes! That’s me!”

The security guard hollers up to the workers in the tree. “HEY, GUYS! You got a little dog up there anywhere?”

One of them calls down. “We did but he booked it outta here! He ran off that way, toward the ice rink!”

I look, and there he is. In the middle of the ice. Looking back at me!

Woof! Woof!

“LOOOOOOOPY! STAAAAAAAY!”

Loopy takes off.

“Now you did it, Arcade,” Zoe says. “Loopy never stays.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot! Come on!”

We run back down toward the ice. “Have you seen a little dog?” We ask people in the crowd as we run by.

“Yes!” An older woman standing near the railing points her thumb away from us. “He went that way, toward Times Square. He had a little camera on is head. He was so cute. But you better hurry! He’s quick!”

Chapter 34
Not Fair, Times Square

“He’s gonna get squashed in all that traffic!” I grab Zoe’s hand and we huff and puff across 50th Street, turning south on 7th, toward Times Square. We run right into a huge crowd, holding up signs and yelling. NYPD officers stand around the crowd, watching carefully.

“Oh, no! It’s a protest!” Zoe stops and tries to catch her breath.

“A protest? That’s dope! I wonder what they’re protesting?”

“We can Google protests from six years ago later. Right now, we need to figure out a way to get through.”