The Cinderella Theorem (5 page)

(2) Ball?
Did he say ball?

“What?”

“I
mean that while everyone in your world believes the Bremen Town Musicians sound
like a bunch of animals making noise, the truth is, after that first failure
they got some lessons and are really having a stunning career. Wouldn’t you say
so, Ginnie?”

“Oh
yes,” Mom agreed. “They released a new album just last week.”

“Not
that
. What ball?”

“Your
presentation ball, of course.”

 “I
have a presentation ball?”

“Yes,
of course,” my mother explained. “After you spend the afternoon receiving your
subjects, there will a ball in your honor. Everyone is very excited about you
coming home. The ball is really just a normal formality.”

Normal?
Does she know what my friends are doing right now? What the entire world does normally
on a weekend?

No,
of
course
.

We ate
supper at Once Upon A Tine. Another clever Smythian play on words. Forks have
three
tines
, the sharp, pointy parts. “Once upon a
time
” is a
common beginning phrase for fairy tales, so, clearly, the name of the most
popular Fire Land restaurant has to be–
Once Upon a Tine
.

I
was more than ready for bed when our pumpkin carriage brought us back to the
castle. After all, in just one afternoon, I’d entered an alternate world and
eaten in a restaurant owned and operated by the talking cat from
Puss-in-Shoes
or something. I actually didn’t know the story, but the talking cat introduced
himself when he brought over the menus.

As we
returned to our castle, the guard shouted a salute from the gate.

My
dad squeezed my shoulder, in a gesture of good will and fatherly affection. “Everyone
is just so glad you’ve finally arrived, Lily. I’ll be surprised if your ball
ends before three in the morning.”

I
yawned. Lovely. A ball, that I didn’t want in the first place, lasting until
the wee morning hours. Won’t everyone turn into pumpkins or something at
midnight?

We
were met in the courtyard by the in-charge person I had seen earlier in the
Arrivhall.

“Your
Majesty,” he said, quickly bowing and addressing my father. “Do you have some
time available to discuss the schedule for tomorrow?” He nodded a quick bow to
my mother and me.

“Of
course, Macon.” My father turned to us. “This won’t take long, Ginnie; I’ll be
up later, but I’ll go ahead and say good night to you, Lily. You look pretty
tired.”

I
nodded back at him. I was tired, but, more than that, I needed time alone to
process this world where cats are not kept out of eating establishments for
sanitary reasons.

My
mother offered to show me to my room. “Your fairy godmother and I had the best
time decorating your room. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“I
have a fairy godmother?” I should have known.

“Of
course.” Mom chuckled.

Why
was she laughing? Should I have just known I have a fairy godmother? I don’t
even have a normal godmother.

I
had my doubts about how my mother (constantly in a world of her own creation
full of princes, curses, and everlasting love) and a fairy person (not known
for matters of logical or rational thinking) would decorate my bedroom. I
prepared myself for the worst–pink, wispy material everywhere, little ballerina
figurines dancing (maybe
literally
, through magic), lace, a vanity
dressing table full of jewelry, and a pink diary on the bedside table, which
would be covered with more pink lacey business.

Apparently,
my mother
had
paid some attention to what I like over the years, but it was
easy to determine where my fairy godmother had added her own touch. There was
no pink, thankfully, and no lace. There were, however, books. Shelves and
shelves of books.

“Those
shelves,” my mother pointed out, “are boring math books, but those,” (more
pointing), “are the stories of every citizen of Smythe’s SFL.”

A huge
chalkboard hung on one wall. (“For solving your math problems.”) But I liked
the ceiling best. Floating (actually floating) near it, were all sorts of
famous math equations. The quadratic formula, the Pythagorean theorem, e = mc².
They floated around up there, like literal math heaven. (“That was Glenni’s
idea.” Glenni, I suppose, is my fairy godmother.)

“Do
you like it?” Mom asked.

I
nodded, noticing the right angles made by the bookshelves, the symmetry of the
windows, and the perpendicular lines made by the walls and floor.

“Good,”
Mom smiled. “Your bathroom is through that door, and your closet is over
there.” (Pointing.) “Breakfast will be around nine tomorrow. Someone will show
you the way.” Mom spoke quickly. “If you need anything, pull the cord beside
your bed. Your father and I are at the end of the hallway. Do you have any
questions?”

“I
don’t think so,” I managed, trying to remember everything she had said.

“Alright
then.” Mom smiled at me like it was the first day of kindergarten, and I was
going off to ride on my first school bus. “I’m so glad you’re here, Lily. Good
night.” With another smile, Mom was out the door, leaving me alone in my math
heaven.

I
immediately went to the chalkboard and wrote the equation of a line in
slope-intercept form.
[15]
The room seemed more like home. I smiled, put on my pajamas, and fell asleep
reading my Newton biography.

~~~

I
woke the next morning to prime numbers dive bombing me from the ceiling. Apparently,
Glenni had also put in an alarm clock. I swatted an 11 away, hoping that would
equal a snooze button. After a seven-minute snooze, a 29 hit me on the knee,
and I got out of bed, wondering how to set the alarm.

According
to the traditional clock on my bedside table, I had plenty of time to get ready
before breakfast. With the remainder of time, I sat in the squishy chair, reading
my wonderful Newton book, waiting for my escort.

“Good morning, Princess Lily,” the
short green lady from Thursday night said. “My name is Beryl. Her Majesty asked
me to show you to the breakfast room.”

“There’s
a breakfast room?”

“Of
course. You can’t have breakfast in the dining room or the tea room.”

“Oh.”

“Right,
then. Shall we go?”

I
nodded and followed Beryl into the hall. After a series of staircases, elevators,
locked (and unlocked) doors, we arrived in a sunny room. My parents were
already there.

“Princess
Lily,” Beryl announced.

Breakfast
was actually pretty normal and served by the seven short people from before. With
some of the dishes my mother offered explanations. “This bacon is really a
bacon substitute sent over by the Three Little Pigs.” “These eggs are from the
Goose Girl. You remember that story, Lily.” (I do?) “This is gingerbread from
the Little Old Woman who made the Gingerbread man.” (Isn’t that wrong somehow?)
“When you eat this alphabet cereal, the letters on your spoon will spell
character names, places, and important things from the stories of Smythe’s
SFL.”
[16]

When
we finished breakfast, my mom asked, “Do you think you can find your way back on
your own? Your father and I have lots to do before your presentation at one. Beryl
will come for you around twelve forty-five. Cook will send lunch to your room. Wear
the blue dress in your closet. We’ll save the green one for the ball tonight.”
[17]

“Okay,”
I mumbled as she left the room.

I
did
have trouble finding my way back. After thirty minutes of wandering, I thought
I’d finally found my room, but when I opened the door, it was a library. Exhausted
and frustrated, I decided to sit for a moment and analyze the route I’d taken.

Looking
around the room, I noticed a framed map on the wall, near the door. The
probability of it being a type of fire escape map seemed high to me, so I went
over, hoping to find the way to my room.

Sadly,
the map was written in some sort of code. (Nothing is normal in this place!) I started
looking around to see if there was a codebook, or at least a readable map of
the castle. Wouldn’t a library be a great place to keep something like that?

As I
examined the room, I came across a framed portrait of a young man. He had dark
hair and dark eyes. He was smiling, but his eyes were sad. I looked at the
bottom of the frame to see the title, but the placard had been removed. The place
where it had been was a slightly different color than the rest of the frame. I reached
out to touch the spot.

“Your
Highness?”

I
sucked in a frightened breath. “Macon! You scared me.”

“I apologize,
Princess. May I ask how you came to be in this part of the castle?” His face
looked a little hard; it made me feel like I was in trouble.

“Oh.
Um, I got lost on the way back from breakfast. I was looking for a map.”

“I
see.” Macon’s eyes softened a fraction. “Allow me to escort you to your
chamber.”

“Certainly.”

Macon
closed the door behind us, then pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and
locked it. “This door is ordinarily locked, Your Highness. I can’t imagine how
it came to be unlocked.”

“Oh,”
I mumbled, still feeling guilty for being in the library. “Why is the door kept
locked?”

Macon
pursed his lips and thought a moment before answering. “It is His Majesty’s
wish.”

I
didn’t think it would be wise to continue my inquiries.

Macon
deposited me back at my room and wished me a pleasant morning. I spent the rest
of it reading, wondering why the library was forbidden, and getting a little nervous
about what to do at my presentation. Lunch came and since my mother was not
there to provide the inside information, I wasn’t able to enjoy the soup as
much as I would have if I’d known
exactly
how it fit into Smythian
society.
[18]

Beryl
(the amazingly prompt little green person), arrived at precisely twelve
forty-five to lead me to the throne room. It seemed a great deal less confusing
this time, but that was probably because we were able to take the elevator
marked
Throne Room
. When we got off the elevator, Beryl ushered me
through a doorway into another library. My parents were already there, and they
looked surprisingly royal.

Surprisingly
royal = crowns, ermine fur lined capes, and scepters.

“You
look lovely, Lily,” my father beamed.

“Thanks,”
I murmured. As irrational as it sounds, I was starting to be excited about
being presented.

“Alright,
Lily. This is what’s going to happen.” Mom placed a sparkling tiara on my head.
“Your father and I will go in first. The gathered populace will shout ‘Long
live King Matthew! Long live Queen Virginia!’ as we walk to our thrones. When
the cheering stops, your father will make a speech and end with, ‘I give you
Princess Lily!’ Then, you come in and walk to your throne, while the gathered
populace shouts ‘Long live Princess Lily!’ Do you understand?”

I
nodded.

And
that was exactly what happened.

Right
up until the part where I tripped on my dress and knocked over some candles that
Mom didn’t mention which–briefly–set the floor on fire.

Following
my amazing display of grace and agility, several Smythian men rushed in to save
the damsel in distress (me) by putting out the floor fire. My father (who I may
decide to call “Your Majesty” since “Dad” seems weird) did an excellent job of
thanking “the brave men who, forsaking personal safety, chose to save the
Princess.”
[19]

I
think I regrouped well after the fire incident. I advanced to my throne, sat
gracefully, and listened to my father’s speech, which in addition to gratitude
for the volunteer firemen contained a lot of words that all seemed to be taking
the longest possible way to say, “Hey, aren’t we all glad Lily is here?”

He
said, “When we look back across the chasms of time that have led us to this
glorious day,” and “Surely, our hearts contain fountains of joy that know no
lack of purest water,” and “Her arrival heralds a new dawn of bright hope and
promise for all in this great and abundant land.”

This
was all long, boring, and annoying.

Finally,
after using all the words in the English language, King Daddy said, “Now,
people of this land, come forward and meet your Princess.”

This
dramatic statement was followed by more cheering. When the cheering stopped,
Macon came forward.

“Warmest
greetings, Princess,” he bowed. “Allow me to present, Lady Potio Bane of
Hemlock.”

As
he spoke, the main doors of the room opened, and a positively scary woman
entered. She wore a deep purple cape, and after she bowed low, she removed her
hood to reveal jet-black hair. I realize, mathematically speaking, a deep
purple cape plus jet-black hair do not necessarily equal positively scary, but I
was afraid of that woman.

“Welcome
to the Salty Fire Land, my princess,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. “In
honor of your arrival, I have brought gifts.” (My mother hadn’t said anything
about gifts!) She clapped her hands twice, and the doors opened again for a
young servant boy. He carried a box wrapped in paper of the same deep purple as
her cape. On top of the box sat a bright, shiny red apple. Even though I just ate
lunch, my mouth watered for a taste of that apple.

The
boy advanced and bowed before me, while uplifting the gift. Not really sure
what I was supposed to do, I stood and took the box from his hands. The apple
was mine! I would have taken a bite right then if my father had not spoken.