“You remembered!” Samantha called to her father. “You remembered my favorite ride!”
“It’s more of a musical theater show than a ride,” Mr. Spinner replied.
Samantha didn’t try to argue. It felt great to know that her father had paid attention to something that mattered to her, even though it wasn’t about lightbulbs.
“Congratulations,” said Absolute. “You are now a super-numerical overachiever. Welcome to the SNOW.”
He pointed to the glass case with Uncle Paul in it and gestured for Samantha to go to it.
“Now let’s go squeeze some answers out of that guy,” he said.
“Nope,” said Samantha, not budging. “Not yet.”
The big man looked confused.
“You’re in the SNOW now, and I’m the boss,” he said. “You have to do everything I tell you to, and now I’m telling you—”
“I challenge you to a math contest,” said Samantha.
“What?” Absolute replied. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I know where the red umbrella is,” Samantha answered.
“We tried to tell you, boss,” one of the agents called from the circle. “We saw the girl carrying the umbrella in the museum and we—”
“Be quiet!” Absolute shouted.
He turned back to Samantha.
“I’ve hidden the umbrella somewhere,” she told him. “You’ll never find it.”
Absolute stared.
“But if you can solve my challenge, I’ll give the umbrella to you,” Samantha continued. “You’ll have the Super-Secret Plans to the whole world.”
“And what happens if you win?” asked Absolute.
“Then you let my uncle go,” she answered.
The big SNOW boss grunted and scratched his chin. She could tell he was thinking it over.
“Fine,” he said at last. “Bring it on.”
“One, two, three, four! I declare a math war!” Samantha shouted.
The SNOW fell silent. They stood, frozen in the circle, eyes locked on Samantha and Absolute.
Samantha walked to the whiteboard, grabbed an eraser, and cleared it. Then she picked up a marker.
Standing on her tiptoes, she began to write a long line of numbers, letters, and symbols along the top of the whiteboard:
22x—39/(9.3y2) * 67 x 8—√69m ± 33 ÷ 12.000007 × 82m ≥ 4n + W(x+5) + 6 * 11.4587r × (4.56389 ± F)3
“This makes no sense,” said Absolute, squinting at the board.
Samantha kept writing.
13B2–45.76K √ (4.1r) 33n2—(88 x 5h) x 43n2—(89–40b) + 7 6.239–8y(x) ÷ 4.76(x-3) 59.55 ÷ 36K
She glanced over her shoulder at the enormous man.
“Is this a joke?” he bellowed.
“I’m not done,” she answered, and continued to write.
6J2 + 876–3(b-1) + 91 13 x 288y(9x) + 3j 63g2—(base N) x 62 59222.84819–2y ± 30 59.02 + 3M2
The SNOW started to whisper quietly to each other.
Samantha looked over at her father. He was watching intently. Far in the distance, she could see Uncle Paul. He was leaning up against the wall of the glass box, watching, too.
She continued to write.
Numbers. Letters. Symbols. Numbers. Numbers. Numbers. Symbols.
“Really?” asked Absolute. “Base N?”
Samantha stopped writing.
The board was full. She took a big step back and smiled.
“You have five minutes,” she said.
“Hold on,” said Absolute.
“Whoopsy,” said Samantha. “Your five minutes just started.”
All of the SNOW agents began muttering loudly. Some scratched their heads. A few took out pencils and notepads and began scribbling calculations. Every one of them seemed very confused.
“This is beyond challenging,” shouted a SNOW man.
“Four minutes,” said Samantha.
“Math class was never this tough!” a SNOW woman called out.
“Enough!” shouted Absolute.
The dome went silent.
“This is gobbledygook!” he bellowed. “Nobody could figure this out!”
“So,” said Samantha. “Do you give up?”
“There’s nothing to give up on,” said the big SNOW boss. “Most of this isn’t even math. Nobody could figure out what this means!”
“I know what it means,” said Mr. Spinner, raising his hand.
“What?” Absolute asked, surprised. “You do?”
“Sure,” he replied. “It means I—”
A SNOW agent pressed her ruler against Mr. Spinner’s throat. She looked to Absolute, as if waiting for instructions.
The SNOW boss stared at Mr. Spinner. Then he looked at the board. Then he looked at Samantha.
“All right,” he growled. “Show me.”
Mr. Spinner didn’t move. He glanced down at the sharp ruler still pressed against his throat.
“I said let him show me!” barked Absolute.
The agent let go of her ruler, and it clattered to the ground.
Samantha’s father rubbed his throat a few times. Then he walked up to the board.
Samantha held out her marker.
“Brilliant,” he said softly, and took it from her.
“Come on. Come on,” said Absolute.
Mr. Spinner began drawing lines around Samantha’s fake math equations. When he was done, he put the pen back, returned to the ring of super-numerical overachievers, and took his place in the circle.
Everyone looked at the big whiteboard:
