The Cinderella Theorem Read online

  “So where were you?”

  The bell rang, and we started walking to our lockers.

  I panicked. I had hoped Corrie would never notice I was unavailable from three-thirty to five every day or that I was gone for entire weekends. I couldn’t think of anything that I could twist around to make truth. “Mom and I were in and out a lot. We probably just kept missing each other.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Corrie picked up her bag and closed her locker door. “See you at lunch?”

  “Yeah. See ya, Corrie.” I sighed. Corrie (quite normally) walked to her first class, and I was left alone with an abnormal mess of half-truths and fairy tale people.

  ~~~

  Mrs. Fox was in a terrific mood. She hopped around in her exclamatory way, asking about everyone’s weekends. She would have loved mine. My mind strayed for a moment, thinking about Mrs. Fox planning a field trip to Smythe’s SFL. “Make sure you bring your keys, everyone!” “Now, remember, don’t upset Morgan le Faye!” “Who can tell me a story this handsome wolf is in?!”

  “Alright, class! Let’s begin!” The real Mrs. Fox called my attention away from the imaginary one. “Get out a sheet of paper! Put your name on it; then write the topic of your fairy tale paper!”

  Fairy tale paper! Oh no. In response to the exasperated sighs from some of the class, Mrs. Fox said, “Remember?! I gave the assignment on Friday! You are to turn in your topics today!”

  I did not remember. A lot of things had happened since Friday. I ripped a sheet of paper out of my notebook, annoyed that I had let a massive storm, magical doors, tea with Cinderella, a dragon attack, tea with bears, and greasy Levi make me forget a homework assignment.

  Mrs. Fox circled the room, winding up her exclamation point. “Don’t forget to start your topic with either ‘Legendary Literature is worthy of study because’ or ‘Legendary Literature is not worthy of study because’!”

  I stared at my paper, searching my brain for any kind of topic. My mind rebelled against the abnormality of writing about fairy tales. I couldn’t think; it’s not a normal thought process. In fact, since my birthday, nothing had been normal. A life filled with magic is not normal. My parents are not normal. Dragons are not normal. Practically lying to my best friend is not normal. Fairy tales are not normal!

  I sat up. My mind turned that last thought over and over again. Fairy tales are not normal. They can never live completely Happily Ever After because they’re not normal. They have poisoned apples and glass shoes and really long hair. No wonder HEA is so busy; the citizens don’t stand a chance of being happy (Normality = happiness). Yet, their stories are still read to children night after night. And those children grow up thinking that to be Happily Ever After is some magical thing that can happen to them. I grabbed my pencil and started to write.

  Legendary Literature is not worthy of study because it presents a false idea of happiness. Children, who read this kind of literature, associate “happily ever after” with these stories. Fairy Tales, especially, should not be studied, since the children cannot relate to the characters. The magic and enchantment of the tales separate them from the reader. Fairy Tales can never present a normal picture of happiness, because they are not, in fact, normal.

  ~~~

  Calo was out when I got to work. A note on my desk read:

  I had to take an emergency case. Not sure when I’ll be back. Use the afternoon to brush up on some stories–you definitely need it.

  Calo

  I crumpled his note into a ball and threw it away.

  I had just finished highlighting the citizens who were in danger on the latest report when Lane (the little man dressed in blue) entered the cubicle.

  “Got a letter for you, Princess.” He handed it to me.

  I opened the envelope, relieved it was not black; it was from Cinderella. She thanked me for a pleasant afternoon last week, and hoped I would visit again. She was available at any time, she said, because, unlike Aven (who probably couldn’t join us, because he was so busy), she had nothing occupying her at present.

  Again, that hint of something that was always in her tone. Bitterness?

  I grabbed the three o’clock report. Ella was only Less than Happy, just below Happy. I mentally processed the past reports I had highlighted. I could not remember a time when Ella had been above Less than Happy. I found the other reports for the day on Calo’s desk and looked through them. She’d been Less than Happy all day.

  I felt close to making a hypothesis or even a conclusion, but I stopped myself; I needed more data. (Hypothesizing with insufficient data is really unacceptable.) I grabbed the inter-office phone and called Hannah.

  “How can I help you, Princess?”

  “Can you connect me to The Observatory?”

  “Of course.”

  I heard a clicking on the line; then; “This is The Observatory, Doug speaking.”

  “Hi, Doug. This is Lily…uh, Princess Lily.” I added, stupidly.

  “Certainly, Princess. How can I be of service to you?”

  “I’m processing some past Happiness data for a report. Could you tell me when Cinderella’s levels were last over Less than Happy?”

  “Sure. One moment.”

  I could hear Doug typing in the background. “Uh, Princess?”

  “Yes?”

  “We only keep observation records in our files for three months, and I have no record of Cinderella being over Less than Happy in that time. She dipped a couple of times but never to Could be Happier.”

  “Oh.” I paused. “So, there’s no way to know when she was last Happy?”

  “No. Well, after three months, we transfer our files to The Archive. They’ll be able to help you, and you’ll have the advantage of looking at the whole file–you know, Happiologists visits and notes, things like that. Ask for Kikika. She’ll help you.”

  “Kikika?”

  “She runs The Archive. She’s Sirena’s oldest sister.”

  “Who’s Sirena?” The name sounded familiar.

  “The Little Mermaid,” Doug said slowly, like he wasn’t sure why I didn’t already know that Sirena was the Little Mermaid.

  “The Little Mermaid has sisters?”

  “Yes. Five to be exact.”

  I decided to end the conversation before Doug found out I truly know nothing about this world. “So, I should ask Kikika for the Cinderella File?”

  “Yeah. She organized the entire Archive when it opened. She’ll be able to find whatever you need.”

  I thanked him and said goodbye.

  I sat back in my chair to think. If I was right about Ella, her file would show she hadn’t been Happy in a while. In every encounter with her, I’ve felt that odd bitterness. She’s not Happy. And if that was true, I could use her for my paper. I could use her to prove fairy tale characters aren’t happy because they aren’t normal.

  ~~~

  Kikika, for all her organization, was not in The Archive. She was not even in the building, her replacement, Debra, told me.

  “She’s on vacation.”

  I was a little disappointed. Even though I didn’t know that The Little Mermaid had five sisters, I knew Sirena would be the only one to have legs. I was curious to see how Kikika managed to be working in an office. A rolling tub of water? A controlled flood? Some magical apparatus that defies all logic and math?

  I smiled at Debra. “Perhaps you can help. I need to see Cinderella’s complete file.”

  “Certainly,” Debra came out from behind the counter. “The C file cabinet is over here.”

  “Thanks.” I wondered what story Debra was from, but didn’t think I knew her well enough to ask. Debra went back to the counter, and I turned my attention to the first drawer, Ca–Cm. Cinderella (Ci) would be in there. I found Ella’s file without any problem; I was about to close the drawer when something caught my attention. Every file had a round yellow sticker on it, right after the name. Every file, except one: the Candlemaker’s Daughter (Ca). It had an orange sticker.
I took both files to the desk.

  “Did you find what you wanted?” Debra asked.

  “Yes. I want to check out Cinderella’s, and I have a question about this one.” I held up the Candlemaker’s Daughter. “Why does it have an orange sticker? All the other files have yellow ones.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know.” Debra took the file from me and looked at the sticker. “Yellow stickers mean the story is active, but I’m not sure what an orange sticker means.”

  “Do you know how to find out?”

  “I guess I could look in the notes Kikika left. It might be there.” Debra flipped through a well-organized three-ring binder. Her finger jabbed at something in the middle of a page. “Orange stickers mean the story is inactive.”

  “What does inactive mean?”

  “It means the story’s been vanished.”

  ~~~

  I decided to take both files. The orange-stickered one intrigued me. Logically, of course, my interest was only a natural and mathematical result of the sensation of seeing only one orange sticker in the row of yellow ones. Besides, something about a story that had vanished was intriguing.

  Calo still wasn’t there when I returned to our cubicle. I was glad; I wanted to ask some questions about orange stickers and vanishing stories and was relieved I didn’t have to ask him. Grimm was never condescending when I asked questions.

  Grimm waved me into his office when he saw me at the door; he was on the phone. “Absolutely, Kara. I totally agree…. But…. No, but if he hasn’t broken international law, then we’ll have no case…. No. I don’t think so. I think Tallis will argue that Marshall Road is an extension of Smythe’s SFL, because it’s a portal point.”

  Apparently, Grimm and Kara (from the Agency) were discussing Levi and his alarm clock trick.

  “I realize the King is calling for action, but we both know the law is unclear on this point. If we pursue this, Tallis will have the excuse he needs for a full assault…. What excuse? The unlawful detainment of one of his operatives…. Okay…. Sure…. Alright. I’ll be there. Thanks again, Kara. Goodbye.” Grimm placed the phone on its cradle and turned to me. “Well, Lily, Levi’s latest stunt is causing an international uproar.”

  “What do you mean?” International like the UN and Uganda and China?

  “By law, Levi and the other agents of Uppish Senna are not allowed to enter your world.” Grimm straightened a few things on his desk.

  “Oh. So, this morning was illegal?”

  Grimm sighed. “Not exactly. Tandem Tallis will argue that, because your house has a mirror phone, is on the magical mail network, and is the portal point to our world, it is an extension of Smythe’s SFL. Therefore, Levi was technically within the law.”

  Nice. It could be completely legal for Levi to come to my house. “What do you think?”

  Grimm shook his head. “I think we have to concede that Tallis has a point. Our best plan is to work on clarifying exactly what your house is in the International Council. Then, the next time this happens, we’ll know exactly what to do.”

  “Who, exactly, meets in the International Council? Do you meet with France and New Zealand?”

  “No.” Grimm smiled. “The International Council is made up of just E. G. Smythe’s Salty Fire Land, Wonderland, and Uppish Senna. But,” Grimm clapped his hands together. “I doubt that you came in here to discuss international law. What can I do for you?”

  “I have some questions about vanishing.”

  Grimm raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. Any particular reason this subject came up today?”

  I hurried on. “Calo’s out, and I was studying the notes he left and thought of some questions.”

  Grimm looked at me for a moment and smiled. “Well, ask away, then.”

  “Okay. First, when one person vanishes in a story, does everyone else vanish also?”

  “Not at the same moment, but they will. Unless they have significant ties to another story.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Our citizens often have siblings who aren’t the main character of the story. They’re just there.” Grimm shifted in his seat. “For instance, Prince Harry, the prince who rescued Rapunzel, is also the second son of the king in The Golden Bird.”

  “I don’t understand. How can he be in two stories?”

  Grimm smiled. “You may have noticed, Lily, that there are often three sons in fairy tales. The story almost always involves only the youngest. The other two leave home to seek fortune or fail to achieve the quest. But the youngest succeeds, and there we have the story. The others are only included to make it seem more heroic when the youngest does win. It’s standard underdog philosophy. You want the little guy to prove that might isn’t always right, that you don’t have to be the first born to have good things happen to you, and that you can do it too.”

  A philosophy that completely ignores the principles of probability. The simple odds are that the bigger person will win in a fight, that older children have more experience, and that there will be things in life you cannot do.

  Grimm went on. “Anyway. The older two princes in The Golden Bird do not succeed in the quest. The youngest son, we are told in the story, does succeed and everyone lives happily ever after–but what do his brothers do? The second son took a walk in the woods one day and found Rapunzel’s tower.”

  “Oh. So, let’s say Rapunzel has vanished, would this second son vanish also?”

  “Anyone only in Rapunzel’s story will vanish within the week of her vanishing. Harry, the second son and prince, still has a connection to an active story. He won’t vanish, but his levels will be visibly affected.”

  “In what way?”

  “He’ll drop faster. It won’t take as long for him to fall to Could Be Happier, and it will be harder to raise him back to Happy.”

  “That makes sense. And would Rapunzel’s tale vanish as well?”

  “From the records in your world, yes. But, because Harry’s still around, our copies and files on those citizens in Rapunzel’s story would also still be around, which is nice because we can use our files to try to rescue them.”

  Time for the big question. “If everyone in a tale vanishes, then the tale is gone–even from us?”

  “Exactly. And all the files and notes made by our Happiologists vanish too; it’s one of the reasons it’s so hard to get someone back if the entire tale vanishes. We don’t have any history or records. That’s why The Candlemaker’s Daughter is still missing. We have no files on them.”

  Missing? I looked up, careful to catch all of this. “Where do the records and stories go, when they vanish?”

  “We don’t know. Best (and most logical) guess?” Grimm suddenly looked tired. “They go to Uppish Senna, where Tallis and his cohorts use the information to torture their captives.” He sighed. “Imagine being faced with the things that make you unhappy forever and ever.”[40]

  “And all the characters in The Candlemaker’s Daughter vanished?”

  Grimm nodded. “It’s the only complete story vanishing we’ve had in the last millennium. We’ve been trying to rescue Celdan and her story for over a century, but we’re no nearer to it than we were just hours after it happened.”

  I asked Grimm a few more questions about vanishing; then I walked back to my cubicle. I was confused and intrigued by the file on my desk. I looked at the orange sticker.

  If the story completely vanished, why was the file on my desk?

  15

  The Importance of Lamplight

  I had a lot of work to do, so I turned down my parents’ invitation to join them in listening to the new Bremen Town Musicians CD. But I could still hear the music; it floated up the stairs and made me wonder again how four animals could make music of any kind.

  I really wanted to examine the Candlemaker’s Daughter file, but I knew that I should at least do some work on my Cinderella research. Technically, the Ella work counted as homework (Ella = research for that stupid paper) and, therefore, took
precedence over the mystery of The Candlemaker’s Daughter.

  I opened Ella’s file and began organizing the papers into three main categories: Happiologists’ reports, monitor history, and copies of the story. Additionally, I made a miscellaneous category for the leftovers, things like memos, correspondence, and a list of related stories. The list surprised me. There seemed to be a Cinderella story for every country: Korea, Persia, Ireland. I paused for a moment. If all of these cultures have a Cinderella story, which is the original? Is there an original? Are all of these Cinderellas living in Smythe? I made a note to ask someone (not Calo) about that. It might not have any relevance to my research or to my paper, but it seemed like one of those things that if I didn’t already know about it whenever it came up, I’d get surprised our-princess-knows-nothing looks.

  I read the story first. Several things caught my attention.

  (1) Ella spent the whole story crying. She cried about her mother dying, she cried all over her mother’s grave (watering the branch she’d planted there; her tears made it grow), and she cried when her step-mother said she couldn’t go to the ball.

  (2) She talked to birds. Regularly. The girl needed some human friends. That might have helped with the crying problem in number one.

  (3) Contrary to popular belief, her slippers (in this version) are made of solid gold not glass.

  (3a) Although, I do consider gold to be sturdier than glass, gold slippers do not make any more mathematical sense than glass ones. If you were wearing gold on your feet, they’d be too heavy to lift.

  (3b) What is the deal with gold in fairy tales? That King Midas guy turned everything to gold when he touched it, someone could spin hay into gold or something like that, and that girl that married the frog dropped her golden ball into the well.

  (4) Aven, for all of his cartography, seemed to be a bit of an idiot.