Jenny was starting to get the hang of it. If you turned this way twice, it was the same as turning that way three times. There were patterns to moving in higher dimensions, even if it seemed crazy. She had the thought that it was a little like finding yourself in a strange new kind of Rubik’s cube. You didn’t really need to understand what each individual turn meant, as long as you learned the patterns.
Maybe, she thought, this is what magic incantations are all about. The reason an incantation doesn’t seem to make any sense is that we can’t see the space it works in — because it’s not the space we live in. An incantation is really a kind of map — each line, when spoke aloud, turns something in just the right way, and by the time it’s done, you’re there.
She never would have believed in magic incantations, of course, if she hadn’t seen them working with her own eyes. In a way it was reassuring to realize that magic is really just physics in a different world. In a way, she mused, it’s so much more comforting to think that there really are rules about these things. She thought of something she’d read in a comic book once, a line she’d really liked. Except now she’d say it differently: “With great power comes the need for a great sense of direction.”
She saw Josh and Mr. Symarian staring at her, and she realized she had said it aloud. But before she had time to be embarrassed, the teacher spoke up. “Yes, quite,” he said. “I believe you have caught the essence of it. And I am pleased to say,” he added, nodding toward Josh, “that our young friend here has an exceedingly fine sense of direction.”
It was only in that moment that Jenny realized that they were back again in normal three dimensions. They were standing in a small room, empty but for a very lovely queen size bed. And on that bed, apparently fast asleep, was her grandmother Amelia.