The Digits of Pie

Chapter 1

"I like pie. Especially apple pie...or pumpkin pie...but NOT blackberry pie..."

"Mmmhmm-dang, I died!" Mat slams his controller down on the table and runs his hand through his hair, exhaling his frustration slowly but surely.

"Mat, are you even listening to me? I was ranting about pie again! Someone around here needs to appreciate my educating rants!" I declare as he picks up his controller and selects PLAY AGAIN? on our tiny, ancient T.V. Mat is your average works-at-a-roller-skating-rink teenager; he's got mousey brown hair, some freckles but mostly pimples, and he's kind of a video game geek.

"This level is impossible to beat!" Mat complains to no one in particular.

"You're impossible to talk to," I mutter, watching his thumbs fly across the controls.

For what has to be the hundredth time in the past two and a half hours, I glance at the clock, silently pleading it to move its stupid hands faster. Mat and I somehow got stuck with the most boring job in my family-owned roller skating rink at the most inconvenient time frame; the snack bar, from 9:00 am to noon. It's from right after breakfast, when no one is going to want a salted pretzel with artificial nacho cheese sauce, right up until when people finally start buying lunch...which is when our shift is over. Go figure. And the worst part is, Dad doesn't let us bring entertainment because he says it'll distract us from the customers. I guess he forgot about the T.V. back here.

I help myself to some Laffy Taffy. Even though it doesn't actually make you laugh, candy always seems to have a way of cheering you up. It's like caffeine for kids.

Just when I think I might die of boredom, the bell on the front door jingles.

"Zoe Heisenburg, reporting for duty!"

A smile spreads across my weary face. "Zoe! Oh my gosh, you don't know how torturous these last couple of hours have bee-"

"KABLAMO! THAT'S RIGHT, YOU'RE HISTORY!" Mat exclaims from behind me, "BOOYA! Hey India, I beat the level! SHABOOM!" I winced both at the sound of the plastic remote control hitting the ground and at Mat's obvious unconcern for his public appearance. Not that there was a public; Mat's exclamation of excitement echoed in the empty rink. Apparently skating at 11:35 am isn't too popular in Seattle.

"I think I see where you're coming from," says Zoe, plopping her book bag down behind the counter where people buy tickets and get their skates.

Almost right after Zoe comes in, Sabrina waltzes in the front door and joins her behind the counter.

"Hey 'yal!" She says in a fake western accent, simultaneously chewing gum. Zoe and I exchange a knowing look. Sabrina is the most popular girl in school, and it's no surprise. With blond hair, inviting grey eyes, and happy-go-lucky-attitude, she is the perfect popular stereotype.

For a while, we just kind of sit there and listen to Sabrina babble on about that-cute-guy-on-the-football-team, or I'm-so-excited-for-summer-break-on-Monday-here's-what-I'm-gonna-do, or what-am-I-going-to-wear-to-homecoming. The grey seat cushion on my chair was more complicated then her life.

So now you've met the Jones' Roller Rink gang;

Matthew Deckwell (Mat), the video game geek,

Sabrina Alberts, the most popular girl in school,

Zoe Heisenburg, that girl who's really good at drawing, and

India Jones (me), that-girl-who-practically-lives-at-the-skating-rink (and yes, I actually do live here).

Now more about me. I was born, raised, and currently live in the upper level of our family-owned skating rink. Instead of learning how to walk like a normal kid, my parents slapped a pair of roller skates on me. So now I can roller skate better than walk. No joke. I like pie. My mom passed away when I was five. In 3rd grade, I was just another face in the crowd, longing for popularity (sickening, but true), until somehow it got out that my family owns a roller skating rink. Suddenly, I was popular. I hung around the biggest faces in school, only ever noticed by the top girls when roller skating parties or discounts on the snack bar came up. That's when Zoe changed my life by sitting down next to me one day in geography and saying, "Hey! I'm Zoe. I like pizza.What's your name?" Me and her have been best friends ever since. Now, I'm 14. I work at the rink on weekends and after school and homework on weekdays. I've left popularity completely behind, and I've got about 35 shirts that have the word "skating" on them. I'm weird. Let's just get that out there.

It takes a good 20 minutes before the first couple of customers show up. They are Mr & Mrs Wellington, our only elderly and regular customers. I've known them forever. Mrs Wellington fills in for the extremely important job of being my grandma. She's the only adult I know that is as obsessed with candy, unicorns, and pie (she likes baking it) as I am. Mr Wellington is like my personal science teacher. He taught me everything from mesmerizing the planets in order to how gummy worms are made (I don't eat them anymore). Sometimes I call him professor: it's our little joke.

"Hello dear! Where is your father this lovely morning?" Mrs Wellington asks me, "I was hoping to drop off my neighborhood-famous apple pie!"

"Hi, Mrs Wellington!" I say with a smile, "Unfortunately, he was abducted by aliens last night and cannot be contacted due to the fact that there is terrible reception in space."

"Oh, that's really too bad...I guess I'll just have to give it to the next house over..."

"No no no no!" Me and Zoe say in unison, jumping to our feet. "Dad went grocery shopping; he'll back really soon, promise!"

Mr Wellington chuckles and hands me the delicious pie, wrapped in tinfoil. "Just don't store it in that pop refrigerator; you know how bad that stuff is for your teeth!" He reminds me. I walk the pie over to Zoe, and we peek under the foil. A whiff of heaven itself escapes the apple cinnamon pie. Drool collects inside my mouth, and my eyes close as I inhale it.

"Hey Sabrina-wanna come smell it?"

"Nope. I'm busy!" Sabrina sings, her thumbs flying across her phone keyboard almost as fast as Matt's on his controller. I glance over her shoulder and see she's texting Kathryn, the next biggest face in school.

Zoe shrugs and drags me upstairs to the kitchen. I quickly store the pie in our fridge and we head back downstairs. Sabrina is just giving Mr Wellington his skates when Dad comes in.

"Hey, everyone! Mr, Mrs Wellington, Sabrina, Matt, Zoe, and my little princess, of course!"

"Dad..." I mumble. But Dad isn't usually this lovey to me unless we're around other people, so deep down, it feels good. It's just how he rolls, and I know he loves me. He's just got...other things on his mind. Like financial stuff, the fact that he runs the rink all by himself, and I've also been overhearing heated conversations over the phone with someone called "Vachel". From what I've heard, she wants to tear down the rink and build something in it's place. I assume she's offering a whole lot of money.

Another bell jingle interrupts my train of thought. A family, with two little girls, walks in and buys four pairs of skates from Zoe. I help Sabrina find the sizes, since she's new to the job (as of last week). From then on, the day progresses rather normally; customers come and leave, we almost run out of salted pretzels, etc. My life isn't too exciting. But that is about to change.