The Square Root of a Waterspout

Square Root had a tradition for every mathematical day he could fine. But his favorite, by far, was Pi day. After all, almost everyone knew of it. So other people responded when he wore his Pi day pin and Pi day socks and, with the newfound bravery of his boyfriend, Pi day suspenders. Being decked out made the school days a little attention-filled. But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. At least these were mostly his friends. “Rootz!” Waterspout grabbed him in a hug and grinned as he stepped onto the front steps right after the final bell. “Ya got any more plans for Pi day? Seems like you gotta, since you ain’t done anything but dress up yet!” “I do,” Square Root smiled, linking their hands when he the hug ended. “I want to surprise you, though. Is... that okay?” “Sure as shiz!” Laughing, Waterspout swung their hands between them, waving with the other as they left the campus. “Ya gotta know by now that I love yer kinda surprises!” Square Root flushed and smiled, leaning his cheek on the taller boy’s shoulder for a moment. “I always hope so, but I will still check to be sure.” He replied when he found the words. “An’ I ain’t got a problem with that. I just also ain’t gonna stop reassurin’ ya.” Waterspout chuckled, “Didya have a good day, bae?” “I did. I am surprised that everyone was so appreciative of my outfit. There were even similar pins on a few other students and not just the ones I have made for friends in the past.” “I’m wearin’ mine!” Waterspout laughed. “‘Course, you knew that.” “I did put it on your this morning.”  They chatted through their respective days as Square Root lead them through the neighborhood. This was his area of the town, a little less high-class than where Waterspout lived. But there were all kinds of little houses decorated creatively and nothing resembling cookie cutter styles. Their final stop was a building just starting to crumbled with a half-lit sign that read ‘The Lunch Lady’s Pastries’. “I ain’t never heard of this place!” Waterspout looked up, shading his eyes with his free hand. “It’s not very busy,” Square Root agreed. “I believe the name may be an issue in the popularity.” But he lead Waterspout inside with a smile. The inside was barely decorated. The walls were bare concrete, the small fridge in the corner filled with strangely colored sodas that Waterspout had never seen before. There a counter on one side with a display of pastries beside it and a few wobbly-looking chairs with tiny tables scattered in the rest of the small space. “Squarie!” The woman behind the counter was round and cheerful with dark red skin and brilliant white hair. “Is it Pi... you brought a friend!” She laughed, throwing her head back. “It’s Pi day and Squarie brought a friend! How wonderful!” “Waterspout,” Square Root’s entire face was almost the same color as the baker’s skin and his voice cracked on the name. “Waterspout,” he cleared his throat. “This is Phyllo. She owns this store.” “Waterspout, eh?” Phyllo chuckled and came around the counter, eyeing them up. Her eyes were a bright brown, the same color as the pie crusts in her display. “Well, well, well, Squarie! Looks like you’ve been lucky since you came here!”

“Phyllo knew my parents growing up,” Square Root blushed deeper, ducking his head and squeezing Waterspout’s hand. “My dad took me here all the time growing up.” “Good t’meetya!” Waterspout offered his hand to her for what turned out to be a crushing handshake.  “So, what will you be having today?” Phyllo grinned. “Pie,” Square Root shook his head at her laughed, “If you made it this year...” “Of course I made it this year! An’ I called your father and he’s paying this year, Squarie. No arguments! Not after you had to pay me over a month last year.” She tutted and flashed a smile. “So take a seat and I’ll bring your pie out. “My dad?” Square Root’s head jerked up. “What, you think you’re the only one I talk to ever? Yeah, your father. He payed, so save the pocketful of change for the kinda things a kid your age should be buying.” “I’m almost in college, Phyllo!” Square Root’s protest was said to her back as she waved them to a seat. Square Root sighed and tugged Waterspout to a seat. “Here,” he smiled, “They’re the least wobbly seats here.” “This place is pretty amazin’, Rootz,” Waterspout laughed and leaned over the tiny table to kiss the corner of his mouth. “A kinda awesome surprise.” “This isn’t really the surprise,” Square Root smiled through his blush. “But I guess it’s part of it.” A moment later Phyllo emerged from the back with the pie. And once it was on the table, the surprise was evident. The pie was small, about enough for two or a very hungry one. There were four different flavors inside the crust, pineapple, apple, cherry and some type of cheesecake. And topping all of them was a pie crust Pi symbol painted with edible glitter. “Is this the surprise?” Waterspout stared. “Yes,” Square Root smiled, “This is my Pi pie. Phyllo and I invented it when I was little.” “And they’re still the best selling thing in my online shop!” Phyllo laughed when Waterspout turned to stare at her. “What? This storefront is a bust, even you can tell. But Squarie here is a genius with computers. He made me the most amazing site and all kinda people from all over order my things now! Now, eat!” She cut the pie, making sure to get at least two flavors in each piece as she placed them on little plates.  “Thank you,” Square Root smiled as she hustled into the back. “Do you like it?”

WS: I love t’show affection! An’ I’m very physical, I gotta say. I always love t’hug an’ kiss an’ show it all off. There ain't any need for it to be a secret. 

SQ: I am still adjusting to this. My family is not affectionate, so I do not always know how to respond. But I do find it to be very enjoyable. I primarily show affection through gifts. 

WS: My bae Rootz had been readin’ a book ‘bout love language an’ stuff! He’s learnin’ all kindsa stuff.

SQ: My inexperience has lead me to discover new ways to learn about what comes naturally to many people. A book about the different languages of love seemed appropriate. I am glad that we share one language, although Waterspout does not wholly understand my enjoyment of giving gifts.

SR: I have had this happen several times, actually. I have found that the best response is to then not eat lunch.WS:  That ain’t a response!

SR: How would you define it, then?

WS: As... what happened to ya ‘cause of them! That ain’t a response.

SR: I suppose that is true. I typically responded, in that case, by allowing them to rather than being beaten. I found hunger far preferable to being in pain and then having to explain what had happened to a teacher. At my elementary school, the teachers preferred to remind me that I simply had to be more similar to the other students,

WS: Yer old teachers were kinda awful.

SR: What would you have done?