From her large bag, Carys pulled a wooden sign and a bowl woven in purple and black and placed both on the ground in front of her. The sign said WILL MATH FOR CA$H.

A family of five walked past and came over to look at Teacup. Carys smiled and said in a voice reminiscent of a carnival barker, “Step right up, folks, and ask me any math problem. Stump me! How about you, buddy?”

This was addressed to the boy, who looked about twelve.

“Umm. 4,567 divided by 8?”

“570 with a remainder of 7,” Carys said.

The boy gaped at her.

“You can check me,” she said.

He took out his phone and plugged in the numbers. “Whoa. She’s right.”

“987 times 2,309,” his father said.

Carys blinked and nodded, thinking for a moment.

“2,278,983,” she said.

“How are you doing that?” the man asked. “Is it a magic trick?”

“Yes,” Carys told him, leaning in like she was going to reveal a secret. “It’s the magic of math. The greatest show on earth.”

The man had no response to this, but at a look from his wife, he put five dollars into Carys’ bowl.

She did it over and over. People would be drawn in by the curiosity of a miniature horse, and Carys would offer for them to stump her. Not everyone took the bait, but many of them did—especially men.

When Greta asked if Carys was targeting men on purpose, she said, “Hell yes! Men are four times more likely to ask me questions than women or nonbinary people.”

“Of course you’ve crunched the numbers.” Greta laughed.

“Of course.” Carys grinned. She was fucking radiant.

“So…is there a trick?” Greta asked.

She’d been watching Carys do this for over an hour, checking the answers on her phone right along with the onlookers, and Carys had been right every single time. Once, she’d given an answer and Greta thought she’d made a mistake. But she’d corrected herself instantly.

“Only if you consider my brain a trick,” Carys said breezily. She shrugged. “Nah, I love math. I’m good at math. I’ve always been able to do calculations in my head.”

“You’re seriously just doing those problems in your head? How?”

Carys smiled. “I don’t know. You might as well ask how do you paint a picture or how do you know what words to use in a poem.”

“Okay, but those are choices. You could use another word or another color. Math problems have correct answers.”

“Right, but it’s all just how your brain works. Someone who can render perspective in a painting knows which lines and colors will give the desired effect. My brain knows how to calculate numbers.”

“Damn. Wish my brain knew how to do anything.”

Carys cocked her head. “I’m sure it knows something.”