Mirror, Mirror
On the wall,
Who’s the evilest
Of them all?
She poisoned that apple–oh yeah.
She poisoned that apple–oh yeah.
Just one juicy bite, my dear.
Just one, there’s nothing to fear.
She poisoned that apple–oh yeah.
She poisoned that apple–oh yeah.
“Do you like the new song?” Tybalt came out of his office, stealthily, like a cat. (But, I suppose since he is a cat, I cannot use “like a cat” to describe him.)
“Yes,” I nodded. “It’s got a nice beat.”
Tybalt swished his tail along with that nice beat. “What can I do for you, Princess?” He smiled slyly. “Do I need to participate in another lie for you?”
I ignored his lying reference. “I need a dish of cherry vanilla ice cream to go, please.”
“Coming right up,” Tybalt wrote the order down and passed it back into the kitchen. I looked around while I waited. There were several new paintings on the walls. Were they Ella’s? I examined them closely. One of them was of a bird. Ella had done several paintings of birds with Miranda. Another painting was a still life, featuring cleaning supplies: a broom, a mop, and a bucket. Ella did like to clean. There was a series of three landscapes depicting what could only be Ella’s pristine estate.
Tybalt noticed my interest in the art. “Yes, yes,” he said, coming from behind the counter with the container of ice cream. “Ella came by on Wednesday to show me her paintings. She has some quite nice ones. They ought to be in a museum.”
“Really?” I turned away from the painting called Alone, I Clean. “Did she seem happy to you?”
“How should I know?” Tybalt threw up his paws. “You’re the Happiologist.” He shoved the container into my hands. “Now here’s the ice cream. I’ll put it on Calo’s tab.”
“How did you know it’s for Calo?” I took the bag.
“Oh, please,” Tybalt sighed. “Calo’s the only person who ever orders that flavor.”
“I like cherry vanilla, too,” I said, somewhat hotly, defending my favorite flavor.
His cat-eyes widened slightly. “How nice.” His voice was a soothing purr. “What a perfect match you are.” He glided away.
I frowned. What does that mean?
~~~
Calo did seem to be happy to have the ice cream. He stopped the spinning and muttering and snatched a spoon out of his desk drawer.
“There’s nothing like cherry vanilla!” he cried happily. I slyly peeked at his monitor. It was rising slightly.
“Enjoy your ice cream, Calo. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Calo’s words were garbled by a mouth full of ice cream.
“Oh,” I loosened my tongue for the lie I had practiced on the ride back. “Doug stopped me on the way in, and asked me to come up to the Observatory. A chart I wanted is ready to be picked up.”
Calo rolled his eyes. “You and your charts.” He shoved another spoonful in his mouth. “Hurry back. We need to go over Okera’s case again.”
I nodded and left.
Did all Happiologists lie this much? Did the great Miranda have to lie to her clients? Did my father? At least, I was going to the Observatory, so it wasn’t a total lie.
On the way, I tried to visit Grimm, but the Do Not Disturb sign still hung on the closed door. I reluctantly went on to the Observatory.
When I entered, Doug was staring at a wall of hourglass monitors, making notes on a clipboard.
“Wow,” I breathed. “That is a lot of monitors.”
All of the wall space in the huge room was filled with monitors. Along a different wall another Observer worked from a rolling ladder.
Doug turned around. “Yeah, it is a lot.” He looked up at them. “And this isn’t even all. I guess you’ve seen the monitors in the entrance way.”
I nodded. “Your job must be huge.”
Doug shrugged. “It’s not so bad, better than accounting.”
“You were an accountant? What fairy tale has an accountant?”
Doug laughed. “None of them, actually. I’m naturally created. I went to college with your dad, and a few years after graduation, he recruited me for this job. He said he wanted someone with attention to detail.”
“So you just moved here? What about your family, your parents?”
“Well, we didn’t move right away. I commuted for a while, through your tub, but after we had kids, my wife and I decided to move here permanently. It’s a great place to raise a family, very safe.”
“Except for witches and curses and possible vanishing.”
“Sure, sure. There are risks everywhere. We worry less here though, and we actually rent an apartment in your world, so we’ll have an address for mail and a place for the grandparents to visit when they come to town.”
“Right,” I said, trying to focus. My mind created equations about the probability of these grandparents phoning when no one was there or dropping by for a surprise visit only to find their children’s apartment abandoned and dusty. Then my analytical mind jumped ahead to my future. Would I live a double life as well? Would I have a real world apartment to invite my friends to, while I portaled through my tub to my job and other life?
I also started to wonder what my mother told her parents about my father. They’d died while she was in college. And did my dad have parents? I suppose he had to inherit the throne from someone, so maybe his parents were dead also. I was balancing my equation for grandparental death probability, when I realized that Doug was speaking.
“What?” I asked, stupidly.
Doug smiled. “I didn’t think you were hearing me. I asked what could I do for you?”
“Oh, right.” I ran a hand over my hair and collected my thoughts. “I wanted to know if there was a way to make a special update list.” Tybalt made a good point. I was the Happiologist. I needed to know how Ella was doing.
“A different one from Calo’s?”
I nodded. “I just want to be updated on one person, and is there any way I can get the update delivered directly to me, no matter where I am, this world, my world, wherever?”
Doug must have been used to odd requests from Happiologists, because he just said, “No problem.” He studied me, starting at my head and moving down to my feet. “Do you always wear those shoes? Or could you always wear them for as long as you want the special updates?”
“Yeah, sure,” I looked at my sneakers.
“Great,” Doug pulled a magic wand from his back pocket and tapped my left sneaker. “Okay.” He stood up. “You’ll start getting your updates there, folded into eighths, every hour. Who do you want on the list?”
“Ella,” I answered, and then, without thinking, I added “And Calo.”
~~~
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Mom spooned strawberries into her cereal.
“Yes, I’m sure. Ella’s expecting me.” I took a bite of my waffle.
“Oh, but Lily, you’ll miss all the best parts of the fair. The ribbon dance, the parade of vegetables, the yodeling contest.”
I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, but my dad spoke first.
“I think it’s nice that Lily has made a friend here in Smythe,” he smiled. “Maybe, after she and Ella visit, they’ll both walk over to the fair.”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right.” Mom was still disappointed I would miss the ribbon dance. I ranked the importance of attending the Bremen Town Annual Fair fairly low: above reading fiction and just below studying for a non-math class.
Several things were bothering me, and they all added up to one big equation of worry. I was telling lies left and right (a), and while they were all for a good cause and had only the best motives behind them, it still felt wrong. The lying guilt was no doubt intensified by the moral tone in several of the fairy tales I had recently studied. Liars always get punished, and nothing good happens to them.
>
Hearing my father call me Ella’s friend was also pricking to my conscience (b). I did like Ella, but I knew I was only spending all this time with her to prove my school paper. I had to make Ella normal. (Manipulation is another one of those things that isn’t rewarded in fairy tales.)
Calo was still a source of worry (c). What was going on with him?
(a), (b), and (c) were compounded by (d): the nagging thought that Levi was up to something. Throw in an (e) lack of time for Corrie and an (f) the continual issue about the vanished-but-still-here Candlemaker’s Daughter file and you’ve got a big mess of worry. (a + b + c + d + e + f = a big mess of worry.)
I sat up suddenly. Another update had arrived in my shoe. They still surprised me. I should have asked Doug how long it took to get used to them. I wondered if Doug and his family would be in the kingdom today, or if they were commuting back to the real world. I looked at my mother.
“Did your parents ever know about the kingdom?”
Mom choked on a spoonful of cereal. She coughed, took a sip of juice, and said, “You know they’re dead, sweetie.” She looked at my dad.
“But how did they react when you told them about the kingdom?”
“They died before I met your father, Lily.”
I closed my eyes, thinking. I can say with 97% accuracy that my mother has never told me a single thing about my grandparents–other than they were dead. They were never mentioned, and I grew up thinking that I shouldn’t mention them, either.[46]
“How did they die?”
Mom swallowed more cereal. “In a train wreck.”
“That’s how you said Dad died!”
Mom’s eyes darted to Dad’s. “Well, that’s where I got the idea for your father’s death. You know, art imitating life.” Mom looked at her watch. “I’ve got to hurry. I’ll meet you on the terrace, Matt.” She kissed the top of my head. “Have a nice day, Lily.”
I added (g) to my equation of worry.
(g) = my mother may be lying about her parents.[47]
Why would she need to lie about her parents? (a + b + c + d + e + f + g = a big mess of worry.)
I took my bike out of the rack and looked around; no one was watching. I quickly stooped down and pulled the latest update out of my shoe. Studying it, I was surprised. Ella was Happy. Actually Happy. Everything was moving according to my plan. My worries were momentarily relieved, except for the fact that Calo’s levels had fallen to Been Happier. He was now just three levels away from vanishing. I wondered again who his Happiologist was. Shouldn’t someone be doing something?
~~~
Ella’s maid answered the door. “Her ladyship is expecting you, Your Highness,” she curtsied. “Allow me to lead you to the studio.” I followed the maid upstairs. She stopped on the first landing, opened the door to Aven’s map room, and announced, “Princess Lily.” She held the door open as I walked in.
My jaw dropped. All of Aven’s maps were gone. The floor was covered in a drop cloth, the map table was shoved to one corner and covered with paints and brushes, and eight of Ella’s paintings hung on the walls. Ella sat on a pile of atlases facing the easel with a smock tied over her dress. She turned around, “Lily, I’m so glad to see you!”
“You took over the map room,” I said.
Ella looked around. “Yes, it’s got the best light.”
I doubted that. All the houses and rooms in Smythe’s SFL seemed to let in a plethora of light. Ella motioned to the painting on the easel. “What do you think?” I looked at the painting and saw the Bremen Town Musicians singing. “The BTM saw my work at Once Upon A Tine and asked me to do some album art for them. Isn’t it wonderful?” she gushed. “And look at this:” she pulled something out of her smock pocket–her plaid-filled monitor. “I’m Happy! Really Happy! Oh, it’s just amazing!” She smiled and looked around the room. “Let’s go have some tea, shall we?” She took off her smock and twirled out the door. “I’m so happy!”
Ella kept talking while we waited for the tea. “The studio is just the perfect place to work. Besides the lighting, it’s spacious, and cheery. It’s got such good energy.”
“Yes,” I nodded. “It was nice of Aven to let you have that room.”
“Oh,” Ella looked down. “Um, Aven doesn’t actually know I’m using it.” She shrugged. “He still hasn’t been home. I half expect him to tell me that he’s just going to rent an apartment in Atlantis while he’s working on the sea floor map. I don’t even know if he’ll make it in for your tea tomorrow.”
“My tea tomorrow?”
“Yes, your parents invited us for Sunday tea.”
“Oh, right.” I had forgotten about that gesture of good will and openness.
“But I don’t think Aven will mind that I’m using the room. He hardly has a chance to use it himself.” She smiled. “And I suppose it’s sort of my payment for forever dusting all those atlases.”
I rode home confused and thoughtful. Ella was Happy, but her marriage was in trouble. Shouldn’t that make her less happy? Or since she was becoming normal (according to schedule for my paper), was she realizing that because she married a guy who loved her for her shoe size, she didn’t have a normal marriage? What would her new “normal” do about this? Was she Happy because she knew she could be free of the shoe marriage? She had a career now (painting album art = career); did she even need Aven anymore?
I smiled. If Ella’s levels were any indication, I would be a brilliant Happiologist, converting all my citizens to normality. Instead of poisoning apples, I imagined Potio Bane and her stepdaughter going to therapy. Talking animals would be gone–they’d be happier as normal animals anyway. After all, normality equals happiness. Dulcita would stop building houses of candy and start a dentistry. I sighed contentedly, because with everyone normal and happy, I would have unlimited time for math.
I was so swept away in my future world of normal that I forgot all about the Bremen Town Fair. Mom was still upset about it while we waited for the Sunday tea guests to arrive.
“And there won’t be another one until next year, Lily,” she sighed. “The ribbon dancers were particularly good, too.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m infinitely sorry. I forgot, okay, I just forgot.”
My dad looked uncomfortable. “Who did you say was coming to tea, Ginnie?”
Mom sighed again. “Cerise, her mother and grandmother–Granny’s cold is much better, and Hugo Wolf. We’ll have to watch him.” She ticked the guests off with her fingers. “Aven and Ella and Odin.”
“Who’s Odin?” I asked, glad my dad had changed the subject.
“High god of the Norse,” he answered.
“He gave an eye away,” Mom added.
“What?” I asked, but no one answered. Macon Mind ushered someone in. It was clearly the one-eyed Odin. His other eye socket was empty. A girl in a red coat, a middle-aged lady, and an old woman came in soon after. They were followed by a talking wolf. He cast hungry glances at the girl. Odin and the old woman–who wanted to be called “Granny,” swapped optometry stories. (Apparently, Granny had cataracts.) Cerise, the girl in the red coat, kept looking at the tray of cookies. Her mother and my mother were deep in conversation. And predictably, my father and the wolf had a lot to talk about.
I stood stupidly off to the side like an extra piece of information in a word problem. (Sarah has three marbles and seven pencils. Danette has two pencils. How many pencils do Sarah and Danette have together? Answer = nine pencils.) I was the three marbles that no one needed.
Macon Mind walked over and bowed. “Princess, I wonder, as you happened to see Lady Ella yesterday, do you know if she and Aven are planning to attend the tea? We can’t start pouring without all the guests.”
“I know Ella’s planning to come. But she did say Aven might not make it. He’s working on a map of the sea floor. Apparently—” But I was unable to finish explaining to Macon why the sea floor project took so much time. Loud shouting was heard in the hallway.
“I cannot believe you, Aven!” Everyone already in the tearoom stopped talking to listen to Ella. “I am Happy, truly Happy for the first time in ages and all you can say is ‘Where are my maps?’”
“Ella, you’re not listening.” Aven wasn’t shouting. He actually spoke quite patiently. “I am glad for you. I’m willing to let you keep the map room, and I think it’s terrific that you’re starting your career again, but I need my maps. Tuna migrations are preventing us from getting to a particular part of the sea floor. I need the map of that area so I can finish the job.”
“Maps! Maps! Maps! That’s all you care about. You were perfectly willing to just keep me at home dusting those blasted maps. Now, you just want me to quit painting and go back to being your maid.”
“Ella,” Aven pleaded. “I didn’t say any of that.” There was a pause. “Alright, let’s just go in and have some tea.”
Everyone in the tearoom immediately re-engaged in conversation, so it wouldn’t look like we’d been listening. I turned to Macon, “I guess Aven came after all.”
He bowed again. “I’ll alert the servers that all the guests have arrived.”
Aven and Ella came in, and everything was a little subdued after that. Ella made her way over to me with a cup of tea. “Aven and I just had the worst fight,” she confided. “I suppose everyone heard us?”
“Oh,” I stalled, “I don’t think everyone heard; it was probably just the people near the door.”
Ella looked relieved. “Good. Did you hear us?”
“I–uh–yes, I–I did.”
Ella shook her head. “Aven is so selfish.”
I nodded, not sure I really wanted to continue this conversation. But curiosity is a dangerous, unmathematical thing, and I couldn’t help but ask, “What did you do with his maps?”
Ella rolled her eyes. “I burned them.”
~~~
The Cinderella Theorem Page 18