The Cinderella Theorem (7 page)

Idiot
balcony boy will survive if and only if (iff)
[25]
he can explain away referring to me as a liability. Therefore, if
Calo
(as his silly name apparently is) continues to call me a liability,
then
,
I may knock him on his highly classified backside.

“Oh,”
Grimm said, turning around, looking for the liabilities. “Oh!” he said again.
“You mean the princess!” He started laughing.

Calo
looked annoyed.

“My
dear boy, she’s certainly not a liability, being the future Protector and all.
And a little thing like a nightly briefing hardly need be concerned with
liabilities
.”
Grimm chuckled.

I
was amused too. Not because I had any idea what Grimm was talking about. I was
amused because Calo seemed really put out by all this.

“Sir,”
he began, “I only felt that since a Sennish force has already made contact with
the princess once today, it would be unwise to expose her to classified
intelligence.”

“Classified
intelligence?” Grimm repeated, laughing. “Calo, you’re only going to tell me
that everyone is still well within the appropriate ranges. Honestly, who is
going to be unhappy tonight? Practically everyone is here at the ball, having a
good time.” He put his arm around Calo. “Come to think of it, why don’t you
just stay? I don’t understand why you want to hang around the office tonight.
There’s really no need to be watching the monitors.
Everyone
is happy.”

“With
all due respect, sir, there are a number of documented vanishings that had no
forewarning at all. Often a high happy rating can drop in minutes to a
vanishing. Since all the Observers are here, there is no one—”

Grimm
cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I know, I know. Since there is no one at
the office watching the monitors someone could vanish, and we wouldn’t know
about it until too late. Fine, Calo. Go back to the office. There isn’t
anything to report, is there?”

“Nothing of serious consequence, sir.”

“Very
well. I’ll see you on Monday. Good night, Calo. Good night, Princess.”

Grimm
turned and went back into the ballroom. Calo glared at me and sighed heavily.
Then he climbed back down the trellis. I watched him descend, calculating the
probability of him falling or better yet becoming one of those “documented
vanishings.”

“Join
me for a dance, Princess?”

“Certainly,”
I said without looking to see who had asked. I would be dancing with everyone
anyway, so there was no need to be choosy.

I
should have been.

Greasy
Levi waited to dance with me; I tried to pull away, but he was too quick. He
grabbed my hand and drew me close to him.

“A
tango, I think.” He snapped his fingers and the music changed. The magic shoes,
of course, were not thrown by a tango, and soon Levi and I were in the
beginning steps of the dance.

“I’d
rather not dance with you.” I struggled to get out of his grasp.

“Now,
really, my dear Lily. Don’t be coy. You have already agreed to dance with me.
Surely you don’t want to gain a reputation as a flirt.”

Without
a doubt, flirting with Levi was the farthest thing from my mind. His greasy
hands transferred grease to my bare arms, and I could feel a grease spot on the
back of my dress from where he was touching me.

“I’ll
scream if you don’t let me go.”

“Tsk,
tsk, Princess. You are being a very ungracious dance partner.”

The
tango was faster now, so fast I felt my body couldn’t keep up with my shoes. I
struggled to escape from Levi, but his greasy hands held me tight. No sound
would come. I tried to scream, but my throat burned like it was filling with
grease.

“How
did you like my lord’s gift to you?” he asked, pulling me close.

I
ignored him and tried not to smell his greasy breath.

“Not
feeling chatty?” He spun me away, and at last his hold on me was broken. “See
you soon, Princess.” He smirked and vanished.

The
next afternoon I sat in my wonderfully squishy chair reading more about Newton.
It’s amazing to me that the man who wrote the laws of motion and split the
color spectrum was an absent-minded professor. I envision him being like my
mother–distracted in all areas except the ones that really matter.

Distraction
was on my mind as I read. Specifically, I was trying to create an equation that
could make me forget about last night’s tango with Levi. But it was like trying
to find the beginning of a circle or the end of
pi
.
[26]
Trying to forget him was actually
not
forgetting him.

Also,
I was working very hard to justify not telling my royal parents about Levi’s
second greasy visit.

My
reasons for not telling them were simple.

(1)
They would freak out.

(2)
Mom would freak out and do something unmathematical like forbid me from going
on balconies.

(3)
I think my father would freak out and kill Levi. (Assuming, of course, Levi
didn’t pull one of his disappearing tricks.) I would like to do my part to keep
my father from committing homicide–no matter how justifiable.

(4)
I’m not sure about this, but I have a feeling that I shouldn’t tell. Feelings
are not definable, mathematical things. Ordinarily, I would not trust them.
But…I don’t know. This one’s different.

(5)
If I tell my parents that Levi showed up on the balcony, I’m sure the story
would get back to horrible “highly-classified” Calo, who doesn’t like me. This
would just be further proof that I’m a
liability
and a security risk. I
don’t want him to think he’s right.
[27]

Mom
came in through the open door and flopped on my bed. “Are you all packed?”

“I
have the important stuff. And if I leave anything, it’s just a tub trip away.”

Mom
smiled. “So, what do you think about E. G. Smythe’s Salty Fire Land?” She said
the name importantly.

“What
do you mean?” I asked, being cautious. I didn’t want to say anything to hurt my
mom’s feelings. It is a mathematical fact that mothers can have their feelings
hurt very easily and very unintentionally.

“What
do you think about it? Do you like it? Do you hate it? Do you love it? Are you
glad you came? Is it wonderful? Is it everything you thought it would be?”

When
she stopped for breath, I managed to say, “It’s certainly
not
what I
thought it would be. And I…do like it. Yes. I’m glad I came.” And strangely, I
wasn’t lying. I did like it, a
little
. “I mean, I’m not saying I want to
move here permanently, and it’s still
completely
odd and weird, but I
did have a good time. And that third little pig is practically a mathematician.
He told me all about the calculations he made to build the brick house. And he
has an income curve set up for his brothers so that their rent is based on a
percentage of what they earn and not—”

“No
math!” Mom buried her head in a pillow. “No more math.” She sat up, took a deep
breath, and said, in a more supportive tone, “I mean, Lil, I’m so glad you
found someone here who enjoys math as much as you do.”

“Well,
it was a key factor in my liking it here. Certainly one of the terms in the
equation of—”

Mom
groaned and threw the pillow at me. Unfortunately, she has terrible aim and hit
Beryl in the head as she walked into the room.

Once
Beryl had recovered from the shock of the queen of E. G. Smythe’s Salty Fire
Land throwing a pillow at her, she announced, while replacing her beret,
“Everything is ready for your return trip, Your Majesty.”

“Thank
you, Beryl,” Mom giggled.

The
return trip was = to the trip coming to Smythe’s SFL minus thinking “E. G.
Smythe’s Salty Fire Land” + thinking my address (2317 Marshall Road) + flipping
down a fold up water spigot in the wall next to our family portrait (so we had
something to put our keys into).

When
we came downstairs, Mom went immediately to her office to write, my dad spread
security briefs all over the dining room table, and after standing there alone
for a few seconds, I went back upstairs to finish my homework.

That’s
approximately normal. Parents working; children doing homework. Except, of
course, one parent is working on controlling fictional characters, and the
other is reading about the security of his kingdom of fictional characters.
But, other than
that
, it was a normal night for the Sparrow family.

~~~

The
next morning, as I left for school, my father stopped me. “Lily, I’m sure I
don’t have to tell you this, but, uh, it would be unwise to mention the kingdom
to your friends.”

I
looked at him. Did he really think I was just dying to tell my friends all
about my dance with Snow White’s prince? Did he really think I wanted everyone
to know that I had traded stories about uncomfortable beds with Sleeping
Beauty? Instead of saying any of the four sarcastic replies that immediately
came to my mind, I just said, “Okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks
Lily. Have a great day, and don’t forget to portal over when you get home. Grimm
is expecting you at his office at 3:30.”

I
groaned silently as I walked away. The after school job. I was looking forward
to that about as much as my mother looks forward to doing geometry proofs.

I
spent the walk to school thinking of primarily two things.

(1)
Determining the probability of seeing Calo at work. I settled on 45%. He does
work there, so I had to include a higher factor because of that, but I was able
to take away most of that because he thinks I’m a security risk.

(2)
Analyzing and sorting through the data of the weekend to combine facts so that
I can
truthfully
tell Corrie what I did over the weekend.

Corrie
arrived at 7:40, like she does every morning. There were twenty-two students
waiting when she arrived. I had estimated twenty-four. Not bad.

“Did
you have a good weekend?” I asked, as she dropped her book bag on the ground.

“Mostly,”
she sighed. “My dad made a schedule for bathroom time in the mornings.” Corrie
rolled her eyes. “We’ve got to get another bathroom.”

“That
would certainly balance the equation.”

“How
was your weekend, Lil? I bet
you
didn’t have to spend it discussing with
your
mom whether or not you can brush your teeth
and
brush your
hair at the same time. Because if you
could
do those two things at the
same time, it would take off at least three minutes of your bathroom time.”
Corrie made a face.

“I
had a good weekend.” I chose my words carefully. “I spent some time reading
that book on Newton you gave me, and I met some of my mom’s friends.” There.
All 100% truth.

“You
are so normal.” Corrie shook her head. “That is such a
normal
weekend. I
spent forty-five minutes on Saturday watching my dad give a demonstration on
the most efficient way to brush your teeth and still be cavity free.”

I
smiled sympathetically. And while I fully support Corrie in feeling that her
family is not exactly normal, when did
mine
become normal? I think
Corrie’s time managing father is closer to the mean of normal than my
king-of-fairyland, used-to-be-dead, “Happy Birthday, Lily!” father.
[28]

~~~

When
I opened our front door after school, Peridiom (the little man dressed in
brown) was sliding down the banister. The girl dressed in purple (whose name, I
discovered over the weekend, is Blaire) was standing at the top of the stairs,
looking annoyed.

“Hey,
Princess!” Peridiom smiled as he flew off the banister.

“Hey,
Peridiom.” I started upstairs. I wanted to change clothes before I portaled
over for my first job.

“I
apologize for Peridiom, Your Highness.” Blaire blushed and curtsied as I
passed.

“It’s
all right, Blaire,” I answered, closing the door to my room. Apparently, I
should be expecting the two of them every day after school.

I
changed my clothes, grabbed the blue marble/key off my dresser, and headed for
the tub.

My
arrival in Arrivhall was quite different this time. No cheering populace
awaited; only Macon Mind greeted me.

“Ahh,
Your Highness. Right on time.” He started walking away from the portal point,
and I followed. “Their Majesties are occupied at present. Rumplestiltskin got
angry with the Farmer in the Dale this morning and stamped his foot. You can
just imagine what happened. We’ve been dealing with that crisis all day.”

“What
happened?”

Macon
stopped, confused. “Well–he–you really don’t know?”

“Haven’t
got a clue, Macon.”

“Right.”
Macon continued walking. “In that case, Your Highness, allow me to explain.
When Rumplestiltskin gets angry, he stamps his foot. When he stamps his foot, a
huge crack in the earth opens up. So, when he stamped his foot this morning, he
managed to have most of the Dale swallowed into the depths of the earth. Paul
Bunyan and Hercules have been working all morning to dig the villagers out.”

“Was
anyone hurt or…”

“Killed?”
Macon finished for me. “No, that’s not possible. Only the people who survive
their tales live Happily Ever After, so no one can die or be killed. The only
thing they have to worry about is vanishing, which is what you’re here to
prevent.” We had arrived at the main gate. “Alright Princess, some instructions
about leaving the castle. As your key is needed to return you to your world,
you must deposit it here at the door. We don’t want them lost out in the woods.”
He pointed to a bowl on a small table. I dropped my marble in and we went
outside. “Also, here is your bike.” Macon pulled a blue bicycle from the rack
in front of the castle.

“I
have my own bike?”

Macon
sighed. “We used to give horses out to everyone, but the talking ones made such
a fuss about it. They got the enchanted horses to hoof a petition, then they
unionized.” Macon rolled his eyes. “And, of course, there is the whole mess
about enchanted people. It’s almost impossible to tell which is a real horse
and which is a prince turned into a horse by Morgan Le Faye. So, what with all
that, we just give out bikes now.”

“That
makes sense,” I nodded.

“Do
you know where you’re going?”

“Nope.”

“It
isn’t far. Just in the first wood, but all the same, we don’t what you to get
lost.” Macon reached into his back pocket and produced a wand.

“You
have a magic wand?”

Macon
looked confused by the question. “I’m in command of the entire castle, Your
Highness. Of course I have a magic wand.”

“Of
course,” I muttered.

He
tapped the handlebars and bowed to me. “The bike is on auto-pilot and will take
you to the office, Your Highness. But, please, do try to pay attention and
learn the way. The bike will start to think for itself if we auto-pilot it too
much.”

“I’ll
remember.” I decided to just ignore the bike thinking for itself bit. “Goodbye,
Macon.”

“Goodbye,
Princess.” Macon bowed again.  

I
got on the bike and pushed off. The bike immediately stared pedaling on its own
and I struggled to keep my balance and get my feet on the pedals. But like my
dancing shoes, once I got the hang of it, it was as simple as basic arithmetic.

Exactly
four and a half minutes later, I arrived at a tall, brick building. A large,
flashing sign proclaimed it to be “The Office of Happily Ever After Affairs–Home
of the Happiest Happiologists Around.”

“What
in the world is a Happiologist?” I muttered to myself, getting off the bike.

“You
are, Princess Lily!” Grimm walked towards me. “And you’re right on time. I
haven’t been waiting long. Wel—” Grimm stopped and looked from me to my bike,
which, at that moment, moved of its own accord from my hands to the bike rack.
Grimm raised an eyebrow. “Auto-pilot?”

“Macon
set it up so I wouldn’t get lost.”

“Not
a bad idea and easily fixed.” Grimm tapped the bike with his own magic wand.
“As I was saying, Princess, Welcome to the Office of Happily Ever After
Affairs, but we all just call it HEA for short.”
[29]
He spread his arms wide and looked around.

I
looked around, too.

“We’re
very glad to have you. Training the new Protectors has always been a privilege,
and I’ve no doubt your education will be a treat, as well.” He put his arm
around me and guided me into the building. “Come in, come in. I’ll give you the
tour.”