7
Pi or Pie to the Rescue
The moment I was on the bus, I texted Cass and Aimee, asking if they could meet me for an emergency meeting at the playground in my neighborhood in fifteen minutes. I added that one of them needed to bring spoons. Since it was past six, I also texted Mom to tell her I wouldn’t be home for dinner.
Cass and Aimee beat me to the park and were sitting in our favorite spot at the top of the slide when I got there. I climbed up the ladder with my pie in one hand. It was a cooler September day, and the clouds looked a little ominous, so there were no kids in the park. Good. I’d deal with the rain if it came.
“So, you saw it, then?” Cass asked as I plopped myself on the metal platform next to them and unboxed the pie. It was stained red from the hole in the middle.
I frowned. “Saw what?”
Aimee blinked. “You haven’t seen it? Why do you have cherry pie?”
“It’s bumbleberry.” I placed it on the floor between us. “Dig in, folks. I have a major crisis we need to deal with.”
Cass raised one brow, then handed out spoons. Their hoodie today was a rich burgundy color. And as usual, Aimee was fully decked outwith elaborate makeup, including black lipstick, a short pink-and-black plaid skirt with black fishnets and thigh-high socks, and a snug black crop top. If that little girl Yasmin thought I was a vampire or a fairy, she should meet Aimee.
I plunged my spoon into the middle of the pie, exposing the deep, glistening red filling. “I didn’t think the bumbleberry would be so red. Did you know bumbleberry means mixed berry? Even though some of the fruits in it aren’t even berries at all.”
Aimee followed my lead and scooped some pie for herself. “What’s going on, Samaya?”
I took a breath. This was complicated. “Okay, so you know how my shelter volunteer job thing is, like, a baking thing, right?”
Cass nodded, chewing. “I am completely in favor of you bringing us a pie every time you work there.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’ll be going back.”
I explained in great detail how I’d come to discover that the photo LostAxis had sent me was a fake—that it was a picture of Daniel, my new volunteer coworker.
Aimee shook her head. “Shut. Up.Seriously?”
Cass’s eyes were even wider than Aimee’s. “Are you sure? That can’t be possible.”
I opened the picture on my phone and zoomed in on his jacket. “This logo is for the Scarborough Killer Geese hockey team. A team Daniel plays on.”
“Holy shit,” Cass said. “But are you absolutely sure it was him?”
I nodded, zooming in on the face. “This was his face. But weirdly, he looked ... hotter.”
Cass snorted.
I threw my hands up in frustration. “Look, I didn’t expect it. He was, like, bigger in person, too. Broader.”
“A hockey player,” Cass said.
I winced. “Yes.”
Cass frowned. “So what’s wrong with that? Hockey players are hot.”
I raised a brow at Cass. “Um ... they’re jocks? I thought you hated jocks.” Cass had often said that the only good thing about Earl Jones was that since the school was academically focused with no decent sports teams, there were few jocks there.
Cass shrugged. “They’re not all bad. Anyway, I don’t think it’s LostAxis. It’s too big a coincidence.”
“It’s him. That’s his team logo, and he said he’s the only Filipino player they’ve had.”
“We don’t know that the guy in the pic is Filipino,” Aimee said.
I nodded. “True, but I’d put money on it being him. Or a twin brother, which he doesn’t have because he told me he’s an only child.”
