“Yeah. I like lard, but I wouldn’t want to fall into a vat of it or anything. Powdered sugar, maybe. When I used to work in my aunt’s bakery, I used to steal spoonfuls of the stuff when I was making doughnuts.”
I saw a possible opening to find out if thiswasLostAxis. I moved some cans of sweetened condensed milk to the front of the shelf. “I’ve never had the time for a part-time job,” I said. “I do a lot of extracurriculars. Plus, my hobbies. Do you have hobbies?”
He looked at me, eyebrow raised. “Are you, like, interviewing me or something?”
“Well, if we’re going to be working together, we should get to know each other, shouldn’t we?”
He chuckled. “Fine. Let’s cover all the bases, though. My full name is Daniel Alexander Ramos. I’m seventeen and in grade twelve at St.Francis Secondary. I’m an only child, and my hobbies include baking and hockey. Mostly hockey.”
Right. Andre had mentioned Daniel was a hockey player. But also, if this guy was into hockey, then maybe he wasn’t LostAxis? There’s no way LostAxis played hockey. He was the furthest thing from a jock. And, also? He had to look up that hockey thing in the game—the hat trick. “You play on a team?”
“I know, it’s shocking. I’m the only Filipino player my team has ever had. Scarborough Killer Geese. It’s a rec league. And when I’m not playing hockey,” he continued, clearly unaware about the internal investigation going through my head, “I’m usually gaming online. Oh good, we’re almost done. We still need to decide what we’ll bake for the weekend.”
Gaming.Maybe thiswashim? No. Lots of guys gamed. This wasn’t the coincidence of a century—this was just a guy who looked a lot like a picture my friend sent me.
We went back to counting. He’d finished the page on the clipboard, so I used a box again as a ruler to make lines on the next blank sheet.
“Why are you doing it like that?”
“Like what?” I faced him again.
He pointed to the shelf. “Like that. You’re not just counting; you’re tidying and sorting.”
I frowned. “I don’t do anything halfway. I don’t know if I even know how to do that.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “Man, my mom wouldloveyou. You ever rent yourself out to be a parent-approved date for holidays?”
“Like a rent-a-girlfriend situation?”
He nodded.
“You’re a weird guy.”
He laughed, then picked up the clipboard again. “Nah, it’s a good business plan. My mom hashatedevery girl I’ve dated. Want me to count for a while? You record?”
“No thank you,” I said. “I’d rather count. I like counting.”
“Now you’re the weirdo. Who likes counting?”
“Me. I’ve always liked numbers. It’s how I got into math.”
He frowned. “Seriously? Who isintomath?”
“Me.”
“Yeah, Mom wouldadoreyou. I’m terrified of math. Seriously—I almost hyperventilated when I saw my calculus textbook yesterday. There is no way I’m going to pass that class.”
This was definitely not LostAxis. Thank goodness.
Daniel looked toward the stack of pies on the shelf. “Hey, are you going to take a bumbleberry pie home? You didn’t say.”
“Bumbleberry? Did you just make up a fruit?”
He looked at me like I’d said I’d never heard of Taylor Swift or something. “You’ve never heard of the best pie in existence? Bumbleberry is notonefruit. It’s many. Apple, rhubarb, strawberry, raspberry, and blueberry.Bumbleberrymeans mixed berry. Now you have to take one.”
“Hate to tell you, bud: rhubarb and apples aren’t berries.”
“Hate to tellyou, but technically, raspberries and strawberries aren’t, either.”
