He grinned when he saw me. “Count von Count!” he said.
I laughed. “Count von Count?”
He nodded, a ridiculously pleased expression on his face. “Yes! I thought it was weird to call youthe Count, even though a vampire that counts is, like, theperfectname for you, but calling you ‘the’ seemed a bitextra, so I looked up the Count’s full name. It’s also Count! Full name isCount von Count! Although ...” He frowned. “You don’t look very vampire-like today. You’re wearing an actual color. Still spooky in the eyes, though.”
I looked down at my clothes. I was wearing a red-and-yellow striped ribbed T-shirt with high-waisted black jeans. “Yasmin told me she doesn’t think I’m a vampire anymore. You just caught me on some darker days last week.”
“She’s a smart kid. Things are brighter now?”
His grin was certainly brighter than anything I’d seen in a while. I quickly turned away from his face.
“We’re making scones today, right?” I asked. “Are those scones?”
“No, we’ll make scones next. I thought I’d get some cookies on first. These are a classic oatmeal, but with butterscotch chips instead of raisins since you’re raisin-averse. Honestly, I don’t get why so manypeople have such big issues with raisins. I mean, they’re just grapes. I don’t mind fruit in cookies. And chocolate is practically a fruit, right? Doesn’t cocoa come from trees?”
I turned back to look at him, blinking. Chocolate being practically a fruit was a fact that LostAxis had once told me. It suddenly occurred to me that I still didn’t know exactly how LostAxis got that picture of Daniel.
“Hey, Daniel, I was wondering, do you know how that guy I was gaming with got the picture of you from the playground build?” It was possible that LostAxis took it himself. The real LostAxis could be an Earl’s student who’d come that day.
He shook his head. “No idea.”
“Were there pictures from the event posted anywhere? On the website or newsletter?”
He shook his head. “Doubt it. Muniba is a bit of a stickler for pictures around here. It’s a safety thing for the residents. She’d probably be pissed at whoever took that picture of me.”
Maybe I could ask around at school to see who’d helped build the playground ...
“So, Samaya, you ready to make some scones?” Daniel asked.
I nodded. I could figure out this LostAxis mystery later. “What exactly are scones, anyway?”
Looking excited, he put down his scoop and got up, returning a second later with a hardcover cookbook open to a page near the middle. He put it on the counter in front of me.
“Here. Read up. That’s my favorite Martha Stewart baking book. My tita had the same one.” Daniel returned to his bowl and continued scooping the cookie dough. “Scones are like biscuits. Maybe a bit denser. Last year Andre and I made a high tea for the residents here for Mother’s Day, and we made these little orange cranberry scones. Hey, those have fruit in them! Do you like cranberries?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“See? No one ever complains about cranberries in cookies—white chocolate cranberry biscotti are amazing. But god forbid someone puts a raisin in something. All hell breaks loose. Scones aren’t cookies, by the way. I mean, really not a cookie—not like how a bar is not really a cookie but is kind of like a cookie.”
I chuckled as I looked at the recipe. And now that I saw a picture of one, I realized I’d totally had a scone before. They were like biscuits.
After a few minutes of silence while I read the recipe (they looked easy enough to make) and Daniel finished the cookies, he came to stand next to me, a mischievous smile on his face. “You never asked me about my math quiz.”
I shrugged. “I was waiting for you to tell me. Didn’t want to traumatize you in case it didn’t go well.”
“Much appreciated. But I am in no distress whatsoever. And you can believe that—because I am very much a male human when I am in distress. You should see me with a cold.”
“So that means you did well on the quiz?”
“Yes! Fourteen out of twenty!”
That grade wouldn’t have been something I would cheer for, but he seemed thrilled with it. “That’s amazing!”
“Thanks to your help! I’m going to pass this class. I can feel it, here.” He tapped his hands against his chest. “So let’s make scones to celebrate.”
Scone-making went fine. Daniel walked me through the steps—grating the very cold butter, mixing it with the flour, sugar, and baking powder, then carefully mixing in the wet ingredients and the additions. We made two dozen orange cardamom, and two dozen pumpkin spice.
After they were out of the oven and cooling on the counters, Andre joined us in the kitchen. “These smell so good. This weekend’s sale is going to be awesome.” He looked at me. “You interested in joining us, Samaya? Since you made so many today, we won’t need you tomorrow.You can catch up on your hours on Saturday at the market. Daniel’s coming this week.”
