OKAY, THIS IS probably—no, definitely—the point in the story where we would normally go over all the evidence stacking up in favor of Mr. Mann, our boooooring substitute teacher, being none other than the long-lost Niki Blister, Aussie Rock God and all-round Bad Boy. And there’s plenty, believe me. However, before we get into ALL THAT, the door to Gudonya opened once more and in walked Sid.

With my mom.

“Oh,” Mom said. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” Kasey said.

“Hi, Kasey,” Mom said.

“Hey,” Sid said.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Kasey said.

“Hey,” Sid said.

Written down like that, it doesn’t look like much was happening, but what you can’t see is all the stuff that was going on under the surface. That’s the thing about writing down what people say—it doesn’t show what was really going on … sort of like an iceberg-of-hidden-meanings deal.

And what was going on here was something fishy. By “fishy,” I mean full-on shoal-of-sardines fishy. Tuna fishy. Blue whale fishy. (Yes, I know whales aren’t fish, but you get the idea.) What it all came down to was (and I’m kinda spitballing here) that Mom wasn’t expecting to see me at the cafe.

“So, uh, you guys can run along,” Sid said. “I’ll lock up.”

Mom looked everywhere but at me. She picked up a flyer, whistled tunelessly, checked her phone, and coughed into her hand.

I recognized the signs immediately.

Mom was doing an impression of someone who had nothing to hide—someone who definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent was not guilty about something. Hmmm. Double hmmmm. I knew the signs well, mainly because I did exactly what Mom was doing right now every time I was SUPER-GUILTY. My mind raced.

I knew Sid was way too young for Mom to be interested in him (eewww!), but they were acting like they’d been caught out. The big question was, why? And then—BOOM!—it hit me. All the pieces of the fishy jigsaw clicked neatly into place. Or, since it was a fishy jigsaw, flopped fishily into place with a dull plop.

1. Sid and Mom hadn’t expected me to be there. I was supposed to have locked up, but we’d been delayed by the discovery that Mr. Mann was Niki Blister (possibly, probably, maybe, the jury was still out, etc.).

2. The yurt heaters had been going full blast for the past hour and there’d been a note from Sid not to switch them off because he had a private Bikram session booked.

3. By the usual standards of Hills Village, both Sid and Mom were dressed in not all that much.

I didn’t have to be Sherlock Khatchadorian to know this all meant one thing: Mom had become a secret Bikram yoga addict.