The Cinderella Theorem Read Online Free Page A

help
me.”
    I
excused myself and went into the kitchen.
    “Lily
Elizabeth Sparrow,” she began.
    I
sucked in my breath. By all mathematical laws, three names is bad news.
    “I
know that this has been a very stressful day and that you are confused, but you
are not going to make your father feel bad because he came in through the tub
while you were brushing your teeth.” She said all this while furiously filling
three bowls with cake and ice cream.
    I made
a huffing sound. “I’m in trouble because you lied to me all my life, and my
father appeared magically in my bathtub, followed by seven little rainbow
people carrying food, calling me princess, and—”
    “Lily,”
my mother interrupted. “Try to understand. This has not been the ideal birthday
or the ideal situation for you. We know that. We know that you are confused and
that things seem very odd, very strange, and very unmathematical. But
you can be confused and still have a good attitude. Now,” she handed me
a bowl of ice cream and cake, “Happy birthday.” She carried the other two bowls
into the dining room, leaving me in the kitchen.
    Back
in the dining room, my parents were smiling and eating ice cream. I sat down
and noticed that everyone had a different kind of ice cream. I looked at my
cherry vanilla. I looked at my father’s chocolate. I looked at my mother’s
cookies and cream. There had only been one carton of ice cream in the kitchen
that my mother dipped from.
    “Why
are there three types of ice cream and only one carton?” I asked.
    My
father smiled brightly. “It’s Marvelous Midas Cream. Do you remember King Midas
from the story?”
    “Sort
of.” I have to confess that, although my mother is a writer of fiction stories,
and my father is apparently the ruler of a magical fairy tale world, I know
almost nothing about fairy tales. In my recollection, I think Midas could spin
straw into gold or something.
    “Well,”
he continued, “Midas took the properties of his golden touch and made them
marketable in ice cream.” (Apparently, Midas was the one with the golden touch.
At least I got the precious metal right.) “So when you buy a carton of Marvelous
Midas Cream, you get in your bowl whatever kind of ice cream you want.”
    “That’s
convenient,” I said, trying to have a good attitude and be positive.
    “It
really is. My grandfather knighted Midas for creating such a useful invention.”
My dad smiled brightly, savoring his chocolate golden touch ice cream. “It was
very handy when the delegation from Olympus came last month.” He chuckled. “Can
you imagine worrying about which god you will annoy because you didn’t have their
favorite ice cream?”
    No,
I could not. And do you know why? I can only think of one god from literature:
Zeus. And here’s another reason: I wouldn’t be entertaining a delegation from
Olympus–because they’re not real .
    I
just smiled serenely and had a “good attitude” as I took another bite of my
magical ice cream.

4
Pretzels….Again
    Even though I am only allowed to have one math class,
I was glad (for once) to be able to get to school. For me, school now equals normal.
    School now = Normal, because of yesterday, because of
my weekend plans, and because my father stayed the night at our house .
    If I turn out seriously deranged, I will not be
surprised at all.
    On
my walk to school, I thought about how I could not possibly tell anyone a shred
of truth about my birthday.
    Oh,
wait.
    I
can tell them what we ate, right up until the magic ice cream.
    Last
year, my friend, Corrie, thought her life was ruined because her four-year-old
brother ran through her birthday party–stark naked–screaming about poopy. Corrie
is clearly clueless as to what ruins a birthday.
    Before
yesterday, I planned to work on some equations from an old math book over the
weekend. Now, I am going to E. G. Smythe’s Salty Fire Land to be formally
introduced to the populace. Great. When Corrie asks me what I’m