The Cinderella Theorem (9 page)

And,
then, I did.

I
found myself in my own room, back in the real world. I sat on my bed for a
moment trying to mathematically figure out how I could have vanished to here.
The only way to get from Smythe’s SFL to this world is through our bathtub, and
to do that you must have a key. But I couldn’t have come
that
way
because I left my key at the castle.

Oh
no.

I
left my key at the castle.

I
can’t get back into Smythe’s SFL. So, I can’t go back to work. Although, as I
explored the results of being vanished back home, I found myself more and more
content.
[30]

 If
I can’t get back in (and I can’t), then I won’t have to go back to work with
horrible Calo, at least not right away. Morgan Le Faye may be an extremely
scary woman, but she sure comes in handy. I’m just glad she didn’t turn me into
a horse.

Since
I was no longer able to make other people happy, I decided to make
myself
happy by doing some Algebra homework. I had just finished the next to last
problem,

x = 3x+3(x-5), solution: x = 3
[31]

when Blaire came into my room
with a stack of my laundry. (I noticed the jeans (2x) from the weekend. Clean
jeans have no dirty-ness value (0x).) She looked like she had been crying and froze
when she saw me.

“You’re
here.” Her eyes were wide. “You’re not languishing in a Sennish prison.”

“What?”
I asked, but Blaire dropped the stack of clothes and ran out of the room.

“Blaire!”
I called, hopping over the clean clothes as I followed her to the bathroom.

She scrambled
her little self onto the sink so that she could look into the mirror. Her
purple beret was slightly askew. “Blai—” I started again, but was interrupted
by her talking to the mirror.

“Mirror,
Mirror on the wall, connect me, please. Place my call.”

I
took a step back, as a sleepy, elderly lady with her hair in a bun and a pencil
behind her ear appeared in our bathroom mirror. She glanced up at Blaire. “What
number, dearie?”

“Put
me through to Macon Mind, please.”

“One
moment.” The Mirror Lady seemed to be pushing buttons, but I couldn’t exactly
see what her hands were doing.

So,
apparently, our bathroom mirror is not
just
a medicine cabinet. It’s
also a communication device. Corrie should hope her dad never finds out.
Imagine: brushing your teeth, brushing your hair,
and
placing calls–all
at the same time.

“I’m
sorry, dear.” Mirror Lady looked at Blaire again. “All of Mr. Mind’s calls are
being held. He’s involved in a crisis situation right now at the castle.” She
leaned forward and whispered. “They’re saying that hoity-toity Morgan Le Faye
went and vanished the princess. The lines have been buzzing about it for an
hour now.”

“But
that’s why I’ve got to talk to Macon!” Blaire tried to gesture with both her
hands, which led to her nearly falling off the sink. She caught herself and
went on. “I know where the princess is, Marie, so get Macon on the phone, now!”
Her hands waved again, wildly.

I
rushed forward to catch Blaire.

Marie
gasped and said, “Good gracious! It’s the princess.” She started pushing
buttons again.

“I
told you that’s why I’ve got to talk to Macon!” Blaire nearly shouted. I moved
my hand to rest on her back–preemptive spotting.

Marie,
however, seemed to be ignoring Blaire. She turned around in her swivel chair.

“Frank!”
She shouted. “We’ve got to get Macon Mind on the phone to Marshall Road.”

An
elderly man rolled into view, his chair bumping into Marie’s.

“I
told you, Marie,” he said, grabbing the pencil from behind Marie’s ear. “All of
Macon’s calls are being held, until such time as the crisis is called off.” He
tossed the pencil smugly like he had nothing better to do. He was a vision of
what horrible Calo will be like when he is nearing retirement.

“Look.”
Marie caught her pencil and turned Frank’s head towards us.

“Well,
I’ll be,” Frank whistled. “Give me just a second.” He rolled away.

Blaire
looked at me. “They’re Frank and Marie,” she said, pointing to the mirror.
“They run the switchboard for the kingdom.”

“Really?”
I said. I would have never guessed. And I never would have guessed that my
bathroom mirror is a communication device that links my house to the hidden
fairy tale kingdom. I’m just glad I haven’t recited couplets beginning with
“Mirror, mirror” while in front of it.

“I’m
sure your parents will be glad to know you are safe,” Blaire said, while wiping
water spots off the mirror with her sleeve.

“Yeah.”

I
hadn’t really thought about that. I assumed Morgan would tell them where I had
gone. I further assumed they would realize I didn’t have my key and couldn’t
come back. And, clearly, since I didn’t know about the mirror, I couldn’t
communicate either.

But,
therein lies the problem with thinking logically about Smythe’s SFL. The moment
you factor in an element from that world, the equation loses all sense of
normal mathness. It is evident that you cannot say

what Morgan will do = x.

There
will always be more variables that need to be considered. And to consider them
fully–

“Patching
a mirror to mirror call.” Marie interrupted my thoughts. “Mr. Mind, are you
on?”

“Yes,
Marie,” Macon’s voice answered.

“Fine.
Blaire, are you on?”

“Yes,”
Blaire chirped.

“And…”
Marie pushed a few more buttons. “Patching complete.”

Macon
and his office appeared on the mirror.

“Your
Highness?” Macon asked. “Are you alright? Are you hurt in any way?”

“No,
Macon. I’m fine. I—” I was about to explain why I couldn’t come back to the
kingdom, when my mom suddenly appeared beside Macon in the mirror. She looked
upset and her hair was falling out of its clip.

“Lily?
Are you okay, sweetie? Why didn’t you come back here after Morgan vanished you?
We were so worried.” She started crying.

“I
couldn’t, Mom. I didn’t have my key. You know, you have to put them in the bowl
when you leave the castle and—”

“Of
course!” Mom interrupted me. “I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere.” She ran
off, presumably to Arrivhall.

Macon
re-centered himself in the mirror. “We’re all very glad you’re safe and sound,
Princess. I’ll make sure your key is sent home with your father, and I’ll alert
HEA. They’ll need to know you’re fine so they can stop planning to rescue you
from the Sennish dungeons. Your mother will be there any moment now, so if
there is nothing else you need, Your Highness—” He paused, waiting for me to
give him permission to hang up his mirror.

“No.
Thank you, Macon. I’m fine.”

“Excellent.
I’ll see you tomorrow, Princess.” Then he added, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,
thank you, thank you. That is all.” The mirror went blank, or rather, returned
to the business of
just
reflecting.

“So
that’s how you hang up?” I asked Blaire.

She
nodded. “I’m glad you’re safe, Your Highness.” She hopped off the sink and left
the bathroom, skipping. I turned to examine our mirrorphone more closely, but
just then, Mom pushed back the shower curtain.

“Oh,
Lily.” She pulled me into a teary hug. “Were you scared? Was it awful? Oh, I
always knew nothing good would come from giving that awful woman asylum. I wish
there was a way to protect the stories and characters without protecting the
villains that go with them.” During this speech, she was hug-walking me back to
my room, where we collapsed on my bed. “Tell me all about it.”

So I
told her about the visit to Morgan and how I had been shocked that Morgan would
be willing to vanish over something unmathematical, like soup. (“Oh, but Lily,
you’ve got to forget logic and math once you portal…”) I told her about feeling
stupid with Calo, because I didn’t know the entire history of every fairy tale.
(“Well, you’ll learn…”) And I told her about being relieved to find myself back
at home (“Better than in a dungeon!”) and about nearly finishing my algebra
homework. (“Of course. Comfort math.”)

“Well,”
she said, as I finished my story. “One good thing has come out of this:
Morgan’s happiness levels went through the roof. It was almost a complete turnaround.”

“That
makes sense. The next time her cook leaves, we’ll just send her someone to vanish.”

Mom
laughed at my sarcasm.

“I
suppose,” I went on, “Calo ought to give me some credit. I did manage to
increase a happiness rating my first day on the job.”

Mom
laughed again. “But Lily,” she turned serious, “You may not know all the
stories, you may not understand exactly what Smythe’s SFL is all about, and you
may be terrible at staying on Morgan Le Faye’s good side, but,” she smiled,
“you
will
be good at being the Protector. It is in your blood. You were
born to do this. Don’t let today discourage you.” She smoothed my hair. “So!
I’m going to make your favorite cinnamon toast for supper. And you’re going to
do that last algebra problem I know your fingers have been itching to do.”

“Algebra
and cinnamon toast. And it’s not even Christmas.”

She
smiled and stood up, kissing the top of my head. On her way out, she stopped at
the door, turned, and said, “I’m really glad you’re safe, Lily.”

~~~

My
father joined us for the cinnamon toast, which we ate in my room. I sat on the
bed, with my parents on the floor leaning against my dresser. The whole story
of my exciting afternoon had to be repeated for my father. He reacted
differently than my mother.

He
laughed.

Mom was not amused. “Why are you laughing, Matt? Our
daughter could have been vanished away to a Sennish dungeon, and you are
laughing. Why is that funny?”

“It’s not
that
that’s funny, Ginnie.”

Actually,
he
looked funny as he gestured with
his toast, spilling cinnamon and sugar on his lap.

“I just find it amusing that Lily actually stood up to
Morgan.” At Mom’s shocked look, he continued, “Here we’ve got our best Happiologists
catering to her every time her cook leaves or her hair gets tangled, and Lily,
instead of staying quiet, says what everyone else is thinking. The look on
Morgan’s face must have been priceless. ‘You’re willing to vanish over soup?’”
He chuckled, choked on some toast, and started coughing.

Mom whacked him on the back. “I don’t see the humor in
that.”

“Well,” my father managed, still coughing. “Unlike us,
you’ve never been a Happiologist, and so you’ve never had the pleasure of
working Morgan’s case. Therefore,” (more toast waving) “you’ve never wanted to
say
exactly
what you think of her. It’s a simple equation,” he pointed
to me. “Lily could delineate it for you, I’m sure.”

Mom just shook her head at him.

But I was struck by something other than the math in
what my father had said. “You were a Happiologist? Really?”

“Well, yes. That’s what being the Protector is. Just
once you get the throne, you tend to delegate more. Don’t take as many cases–that
sort of thing.” He shrugged. “That’s why we’ve got the HEA liaison office at
the castle. Keeps me informed.”

“So you’ve had Morgan’s case before? Did you ever make
her mad?”

“She was going to turn me into a horse.”

“How did you avoid that?” I shifted my position on the
bed, so I was closer to him.

“Well, Anderson Grimm was my partner, and he—”

“
Grimm
was your partner?”

“Yeah, but he went by Andy in those days. Anyway,
Morgan was upset because she hadn’t been invited to some banquet her brother
was throwing–you know how Morgan and Arthur are.”

Mom nodded and rolled her eyes.

Dad continued, “So I was trying to cheer her up by
telling some jokes. Word to the wise, Lily: avoid knock-knock jokes with
Morgan. They do not lead to the desired result. I should have seen it coming,
though. Her face turned increasingly red with each joke. And Grimm was looking
nervous, too. So, I, being the young and inexperienced Happiologist that I was,
kept right on telling the knock-knock jokes. Knock-knock,”

“Who’s there?” I answered.

“Horseshoe.”

“Horseshoe who?

“Horseshoe don’t know who it is. Open Up!”

I groaned. “That’s a terrible knock-knock joke.”

“Why, thank you.” My father smiled. “Morgan didn’t
like it either. In fact, she looked angrier than she did before, if that was
possible. Then her eyes got all narrow and dangerous, and she said,” he put on
his best Morgan voice. “‘How would you like to be the horse to go with that
horseshoe?’”