The Cinderella Theorem Page 21

  I sat on a large rock and thought. There had to be a mathematical solution. There had to be some way I could get into HEA without being seen. I exhausted the mathematical solutions first. No back or side doors. Only the main door.[52] And while some of the offices had windows, our cubicle didn’t.

  I sighed and said, unmathematically, “I wish I was invisible.”

  “Now, you’re talking.” Glenni hovered above me, plaid sparks dripping from her wand. “I do wish you’d wish more,” she said, floating down to my level. “But fairy godmothers don’t get to have wishes. We only get to give them.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it would be silly for a fairy godmother to have a fairy godmother. It doesn’t make sense.”

  I nodded, careful to avoid pointing out that a fairy godmother doesn’t make much sense in the first place. How are you supposed to learn to solve problems for yourself if you’ve got someone popping out of thin air every time you make a wish? How do you keep from being spoiled?

  “So you want to be invisible?” Glenni was bobbing up and down slightly.

  “Yes, I need to get into HEA without being seen.” As long as I had wished her here, I might as well use her. Spoiling or not, there was no other way into HEA. It would have to be magic.

  “Well, invisibility has its uses, but you want to be careful with it. It can end badly if you do it wrong.” She floated slowly in a circle, thinking. “Hmm. Yes, that would be the best.” She stopped her circular motion in front of me. “Do you happen to have your key?”

  “Which key?” I asked. “I left my house keys at home.”

  “Not those keys.” She shook her head slightly. “Your key. Your key to the kingdom.”

  “Oh,” I said, understanding. “You mean my marble.”

  “Yes, yes, your marble.”

  I pulled it out of my pocket and held it in my palm, offering it to Glenni. She pointed her magic wand at it, and said, “Float.” The marble rose into the air.

  I stared at Glenni. I wasn’t shocked by the magic so much; I’d gotten somewhat used to that, but I couldn’t believe there were no magic words. Float described what was happening, sure, but wasn’t magic supposed to be something else? Shouldn’t Glenni have said “Floatius,” or “Floatia,” or “Floatabracadabra”?

  “Why in the name of Salt are you staring at me like that?” Glenni didn’t look at me when she spoke. She was concentrating on the marble hovering slightly above her head. “It’s quite difficult to perform any sort of magic while being ogled.”

  I shook my head slightly to break the stare. “I’m sorry, Glenni,” I apologized, “but I thought you’d use magic words.”

  Glenni swiveled around to talk to me. She kept her wand pointed over her shoulder. The marble still floated. “What are you talking about? What magic words?”

  “You said ‘float.’ I just thought you’d say something else like ‘abracadabra, open sesame float.’”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Glenni turned back around. “Why would I say all that nonsense?” She moved the wand up and down slightly. The marble followed–in direct proportion to her wand movements. “I wanted the marble to float, so I said ‘float.’”

  “Okay, I get it,” I got up and walked around Glenni so I could see her face. “I just thought magic words had to sound magical.”

  “Good grief,” Glenni rolled her eyes. “That’s more of that animated propaganda you get in your world. Next you’ll be thinking we all break out into song, too.” Glenni moved her wand from side to side, making the marble move horizontally also. “Words–magical or otherwise–only have the power you put behind them.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, people give words their power. A taboo word is only taboo because someone decided that it was that. A magic word is only magical because I put magical power behind it. If you don’t give words their power, they don’t mean anything.”

  “So if I insult you, and you don’t give the words any power, then you aren’t offended?”

  “That’s the theory anyway.” Glenni had the marble spiraling up and down and all around. “However, you very rarely meet with anyone who so completely retains their power. Most of us are all too willing to let the words have all the power.”

  I wasn’t willing to continue this discussion. I didn’t have time to mathematically determine how much of my power was tied up in words. And I was uncomfortably sure Glenni was one of those you “rarely meet with” who absolutely had all her own power.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, to change the subject. Floating marble acrobatics doesn’t seem to equal becoming invisible.

  “I’m testing your marble’s obedience.”

  “It’s a marble. You can get them at any store.”

  “Not these you can’t.” Glenni made the marble do increasingly faster figure eights. “These were given to your father at his presentation by Jacomo.”

  “So?” I asked, a little tentatively.

  “So, Jacomo only makes magical toys. For instance, he created the Robert, the Steadfast Tin Soldier.”

  “So the marble is magic? Magic how? Like am I only a good marble player because I play with magic marbles?” Something else struck me. “Have I been cheating?” Cheating is very unmathematical.

  Glenni looked directly at me. The marble looked like a hula-hoop spinning around her. “You are not a cheater. Only someone who knows the proper spells can use the magical properties of the marbles. The marbles were only ever regular marbles for you.”

  “What can they do?” I pointed to the blue whirl. “Can that one turn me invisible?” I asked, calculating the odds that the marble I had chosen as my key to the kingdom was also the marble that could turn me invisible. Assuming, of course, only one of the marbles could make me invisible. If all of my father’s marbles had the capability to render me invisible, then it wouldn’t have been difficult to choose the right one. That probability was 100%.

  Glenni interrupted my math. “Yes and no. This marble will be able to turn you invisible. But only because it’s a magical marble. Not because it’s a marble that turns you invisible.”

  I blinked twice. “What does that mean?”

  “Jacomo’s marbles come with the potential to perform whatever task is magically assigned to them. If you had them adjusted to act as a flying aid, you would fly like a bird, or you could place one in your flour bin and be assured you would never run out of flour.” She had my marble slow down. “Before your father left them for you, he instructed them to appear to be normal everyday marbles.” The marble floated down into her hand. “But the effect isn’t irreversible.” She smiled and spoke to the marble. “When rubbed three times to the left, make the holder invisible. That should do the trick,” she tossed the marble to me. “Give it a try.”

  I eyed the marble suspiciously. “So you were making sure it was obedient because as a magical entity, it might not be obedient?”

  Glenni nodded. “Exactly. It’s been fifteen years since any spell’s been cast on them. They were bound to get a little rebellious in that time.”

  “Right,” I nodded slowly. I took a deep breath and rubbed my rebellious marble three times to the left.

  I said, “I can still see me,” at the same time that Glenni was saying, “Ah! Perfect. It worked.”

  I stood staring at her incredulously for four seconds before I realized that if it had worked (like she said) she couldn’t see my look of disbelief. “What do you mean it worked? I can still see myself.”

  “Of course you can. You’re invisible, not non-existent.” She made an exasperated noise. “Here.” With a flick of her wand, a full-length mirror appeared.

  I looked at myself in the mirror, but I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I looked at nothing. I had no reflection.

  “Weird.” This was very unmathematical.

  Glenni smiled. “To become visible again, rub the marble three times to the right. Standard counter spell.”

  I rubbed.


  “Ah yes.” Glenni rose a little higher in the sky. “Very lucky you had the marble, dear. Becoming invisible by potion is just too time consuming to be managed. Say ‘hi’ to Cinderella for me. I’m glad you took my hint and became friends with her.”

  “Wait. What hint?”

  “That day at the fork in the road. I just knew you two girls would hit it off. Good luck with the rescue!” With another flick of her wand, she and the mirror disappeared.

  “What?” How did Glenni know I was on my way to save Cinderella?

  I sighed. Nothing ever makes sense here.

  I shoved aside the temptation to apply math to the situation and pushed the marble back into the safety of my pocket. Math would not always help me in this world. I hesitated before I spoke to my bike. “Go back to the castle please. You need to be there, so Mom and Dad won’t know I’m here.” I think the bike actually nodded with its handlebars, and then rolled slowly away. I rubbed myself invisible and headed for the main entrance to HEA.

  Being invisible didn’t prove to be an entirely perfect solution. For one thing, invisibility does not equal silence. I’m sure that a terrified (and probably talking) squirrel ran off at the sound of my footsteps. Also, being invisible seemed to equal being hot. If I had a decent Fahrenheit thermometer with me, I could prove that my body temperature had risen as a result of being invisible. It was as if something was literally covering me, hiding me, warming me.

  Sweating, I arrived at the doors of HEA and was stumped by my first real challenge as an invisible person. I couldn’t just sneak up and open the door, because there were people milling around inside (not to mention the guards) who would be (quite mathematically) surprised when the front doors of the building just opened by themselves.

  I sighed, making one of the guards jump, which made me jump as I realized how loud I was. I should have wished for Glenni to just transport me directly to my cubicle. I stood impatiently near the doors, stupidly invisible, trying to think of a way into the building. Suddenly, the door flew open with such force that it hit the 180 degree mark and stayed there.

  “Make way!” a messenger shouted. “Make way! Urgent message coming through.”

  I took advantage of the open door, slipping inside before the guards could recover. I headed straight for my cubicle careful to avoid people rushing by.

  Doug sat at Calo’s desk, tapping his thumb impatiently. When I entered, his eyes went straight to me. He looked me over suspiciously, then smiled. “Clever,” he muttered. “Glenni’s doing, I suppose?”

  My jaw dropped. “I’m supposed to be invisible,” I grouched, moving to my desk.

  “You are,” Doug turned to look at me. “I wouldn’t be a very good Head Observer if I couldn’t see through invisibility.”

  “I can’t believe you can see me!”

  “Well, I can’t see you, in the strictest definition of seeing. It’s more like I can sense you.”

  “Bizarre,” I mumbled.

  “It was your father’s suggestion. He had all the Observers extra-visibly endowed a few years ago. Part of heightened security measures.”

  “Speaking of the Observatory, why aren’t we meeting there?” The Observatory was a few floors above us. The odds of running into my parents there were significantly slimmer than here on the main floor, right down the hall from Grimm’s office. I glanced nervously toward the entrance of the cubicle.

  “We don’t want to be overheard by any Dark Mesas.”

  “What?” I hadn’t been aware evil Dark Mesas hung out in the Observatory.

  “The receptors of the Observatory are set very high in order to ‘hear’ or receive the happiness level information. Because of that it’s easy for spoken conversation in the Observatory to be overheard or intercepted by Dark Mesas. They know we’re using a high frequency. We’re currently working on a more secure solution.”

  I understood Doug was saying very mathematical sounding words like “receptors,” “level,” and “frequency,” but just because a sentence has mathematical words doesn’t mean it makes sense. Doug seemed to realize I hadn’t quite grasped what he was saying because he kept explaining it in different ways. I nodded occasionally, but I wasn’t listening.[53]

  I looked down at my desk so Doug wouldn’t see my eyes glazing over. A note for me was placed in the center. I quickly read it.

  Lily,

  Listen, I’m pretty close to vanishing, so stop making equations. Stop trying to make a chart. I found out last week I was adopted (my brother told me). I don’t want to get into a lot of personal details, but I haven’t had much luck handling the news on my own. I’m not sure what other story will be impacted by my vanishment. Give this journal to Miranda. The page marked is where my father wrote about finding me. Maybe she can use the information to save the others. Okay, well, if I don’t make it back–I wanted to tell you that I think you’ll be a good Happiologist someday. Your ideas are good, they just aren’t

  “Aren’t what?” I asked aloud.

  “What?” Doug looked at me.

  I ignored him and flipped the sheet over. It was just like Calo to leave half a note for me. Half a note does not equal an entire note.

  “No wonder he vanished,” I mumbled. “He was paying me a compliment. That must have made him really unhappy.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This,” I shoved the note and journal to him.

  Doug quickly scanned the note. “Hmm. He’s right about not knowing which story he came from. We’ll have to alert the Observers. They can look for patterns, see if any story seems to have a downward trend. We already know the citizens from Puss-in-Boots will be affected. We sent out their Happiologists immediately; no one wants a repeat of the Aven/Cinderella double vanishing. But it’s odd that both Miranda and Grimm are unavailable though.”

  “Miranda?” I knew Grimm was a statue, but what happened to Miranda?

  “She was in the office with Kara.”

  “So they’re both trapped? Why won’t the door open? And how did the trenchies let that happen? I thought they were all about security and body-guarding.”

  Doug smiled. “Trenchies? I guess you mean the Agents.”

  I nodded.

  “Trenchies is a better name. I’ll suggest that to Kara when we’re finished. But to answer your questions: yes, they are both trapped. No, the door won’t open. And all the, uh, trenchies, are trapped in the office as well.”

  I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Doug held up his hand and continued, “All their Super-Secret Beepers went off at the same time. They thought Kara was in trouble, so they rushed in to save her.” He paused. “Now none of them can get out and none of us can get in.”

  “Can you talk to them through the door? And why won’t it open?” There was no mathematical reason for the door not opening, unless the density of persons in the office was so great, the door could not swing inward.

  “No, we’ve tried shouting through the door and slipping notes under it. Nothing’s worked–probably for the same reason the door won’t open.” He shuddered as if he had touched something disgusting. “Grease. There’s a thick layer of grease all over the door, dripping down onto the carpet. It’s going to be a nightmare to clean when this is over.”

  That evil little sycophant. “Why is Levi harassing everyone?”

  Doug looked surprised. “I’ve been wondering that myself, Princess.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I managed to say. I didn’t mean to ask the question aloud.

  “Yes,” Doug moved his chair up to Calo’s desk. “Levi doesn’t usually–that is–he isn’t usually so involved on this deep of a level.”

  “What do you mean?” Everything I’d seen of Levi so far was completely in character for a man who stole a baby off a hillside just so he could make Celdan depressed enough to vanish. “He’s evil.”

  “Well, sure, this does seem that way, but usually Levi just does prank stuff, like turning off the alarms at Marshall Road. I’ve never see
n him mess with the Agency, not to mention Miranda and Grimm. Dark Mesas have rules, too, you know. They can’t just be indiscriminately evil. They have cases assigned to them, just like we do.”

  “Are you defending Levi?”

  “Of course not,” Doug shook his head. “I’m merely exposing the inconsistencies in his behavior.”

  “Look,” I interrupted. “I know for a solid mathematical fact that Levi’s behavior is always this evil.”

  And for the next fifteen minutes, I explained to Doug everything I knew about Levi. The tango, the visit in the bathroom, the letters, the grease stains on the file folder, and the final proof–Calo’s vanishing coinciding with the vanishing of the Candlemaker’s Daughter file. Doug raised his eyebrows considerably when I explained my theory about Levi taking the infant Calo off the hillside and leaving him on the miller’s doorstep.

  “Did Calo know about any of this?” Doug asked, when I finally stopped.

  “Any of what?” I asked cautiously. I hadn’t got around to my part in the whole Cinderella/Aven mess.

  “Secretly holding on to a supposedly vanished file? Being continually harassed by Levi?”

  “Uh...no.” I rushed on before Doug could say anything. “But there’s some more stuff you should know.” And before I could mathematically stop myself, I hurtled along and confessed to everything. I admitted to being the (rather unfortunate) variable in the lives of Ella and Aven.

  Doug’s mouth hung open for several seconds after I’d finished. “Two things. One: I’m glad I don’t have to explain all this to Calo, because he is going to be very angry, and two: this doesn’t affect my strategy at all–I think.” He paused. “It just doesn’t make sense for Levi to want Calo to vanish, to be actively involved in vanishing him.”