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didn’t want to have the pyxis sitting out where anyone could see it or have to answer any questions about what we were doing.
    I suddenly wished Mason was there. He was kind of an internet genius. He could probably figure out how to get into the website with the color blobs.
    “Hey,” I said, suddenly remembering Mason’s email. “Mason’s going to be back soon. Do you think we should show him the list?”
    “That means you’ll have to be on speaking terms with him.” Ang gave me a sly look.
    I rolled my eyes. “I know. But maybe he’ll know something we don’t.”
    “Are you going to email him or wait until he gets back?”
    I grimaced and picked at a stray thread on my bedspread. “I guess I should email him. If he knows anything that could help us, it’ll be better to find out sooner than later. Right?”
    Ang nodded. “Definitely.”
    I knew she wanted me to stop freezing Mason out. She knew better than to keep bringing it up, but she was certain Mason and I were destined to be together. But then, Angeline liked to believe in true love and fairy tale endings.
    I sat up, dragged my laptop over, and logged into my email account. I sat for a minute, wondering if I should send him a terse message, or act like there was nothing weird between us and I hadn’t been ignoring his messages for the past four and a half months. I decided to keep it short and sweet. I needed info, but there was no reason to sound super stoked about it.
    Hey Mason, Do the words convergence, pyxis, or pyramidal union mean anything to you? Or the letters P S G G?
    I hit send and set my laptop back on my desk. Ang had the pyxis on the bed, and she was peering at the bottles in it.
    “You know,” she said. “It seems like it would be a good idea to learn more about these liquids.”
    “Well, yeah,” I said. “That was the whole reason I went to see Harriet Jensen. And that pretty much blew up in my face.”
    She frowned and tapped her finger against her lower lip. “You already used the blue and the yellow at the bake sale. So we know that at least people who eat some aren’t going to die or anything. I’m just thinking maybe we should do a small experiment.”
    “Really?”
    “Harriet seems to know something about the bottles, and we’re at a disadvantage because we don’t.”
    “True. What kind of experiment?”
    “Well, first we should try to come up with a hypothesis,” Ang said. “That means you need to try and remember everybody who bought petits fours from you, which color they got, and if something about them changed afterward.”
    I snickered, and it felt good to have something to laugh at. “A hypothesis? You’re such a nerd.”
    “Whatever. Focus, this is important. Do you have a notebook or something?” She tried to look stern, but a smile crept across her lips.
    I found a steno notebook I sometimes used to write down my homework assignments, and my favorite purple gel pen. I sat next to Ang on the bed and handed them to her. For the next half hour, I strained to recall all of my bake sale customers, what they’d bought, and how they’d acted afterward. I was surprised that I came up with a decent list.
    “Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s all I got,” I said, rubbing my temples. “See anything that says ‘hypothesis’ to you?”
    Ang frowned down at the notebook and a line formed between her eyebrows.
    “Don’t scrunch,” I whispered. She smiled a little and smoothed her expression. If she kept frowning like that, she’d end up with a wrinkle the size of the Grand Canyon when she was old.
    She chewed her lower lip and scanned her notes for a few seconds. “Well, some of the guys who bought the blue ones were definitely being weird toward you. Andy and Jordan, obviously. Then the other guys at the cove who were totally checking you out the whole time. But there are just as many who bought the blue cakes and didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. That we saw, anyway.”
    I groaned and looked at