The Spell Book Of Listen Taylor by Jaclyn Moriarty Page A

were toasted.” He held out the sandwich toward her.
    â€œAre you saying you want me to toast it for you?” demanded Cath. “Because I won’t.”
    â€œIt’s ten to five!” Warren slid back his chair and leapt to his feet. “We will buy a sandwich maker. Quick! Let’s go!”
    They ran across Castle Hill Road together, among the lanes of traffic; skidded to the department store; scanned the directory for kitchen appliances; ran down the up escalators accidentally; and got there just in time.
    They went halves on a DeLonghi Sandwich Maker, and carried it back in its box. They were sweaty from the heat and the excitement, and the fading sun blinked in their eyes.
    â€œWe keep it here,” said Warren, showing Cath the second shelf of the corner cupboard. “And it’s for us, and us alone. We alone get toasted sandwiches for lunch. Is it a fact? Is it a pact? Is it a tac -tic?”
    On Thursday night, she felt jittery, and had to go to the corner store. The corner-store girl had such long plaits they drew attention to her hips. “Hello there, you !” she always said to Cath, who felt she could never live up to this greeting.
    â€œYou know what I dreamed last night?” declared the corner-store girl as she reached for Cath’s 60-watt lightbulb. “I dreamed I was in a bathtub, right? With a zebra! What did you dream?”
    â€œHmm,” said Cath. “Can’t remember.”
    â€œCome on! You always have the best dreams! And it’s been so hot lately!Doesn’t that make you dream? It makes me dream. Look at the time! It’s so late, and it must be what? Any nightmares?”
    â€œWell, okay, I had this great dream where Dr. Carter from ER wanted to cure me of this disease that made me pale and beautiful, and I was hoping I’d get to stay pale and beautiful even when I was cured. Also, I’ve been dreaming a lot about extra rooms for my apartment. In the dreams, I keep finding doors in my hallway that open out into things like sewing rooms or saunas. I’m so happy when that happens. Maybe I think my apartment’s too small? So. Those aren’t nightmares, I guess.”
    â€œHow is your health anyway, Cath? I notice you’ve picked up some lozenges there. Sore throat?”
    â€œJust hay fever,” explained Cath. “It makes my throat itchy. How about you?”
    Sometimes the corner-store girl liked to chat, but often she became vague and glassy-eyed when asked about herself.
    When she got home, Cath was still jittery, so she got out the bucket, the Windex, and a roll of paper towels, and washed all the windows in the apartment.
    On Friday afternoon, she was supervising children in detention, whose punishment was to hunt down apple cores, orange peels, paper bags, and Popsicle wrappers after school. She would let them stop soon, because she wanted to get home, shower, change into a summer dress, get to law class, and then to the Borrowed Cat to meet Warren.
    Warren, striding past, his arms and legs moving like the spokes of a wheel, slowed to a helicopter hover.
    â€œStill on for tonight?” His eyes went straight into Cath’s.
    There was a whisk of excitement in her stomach. “You bet,” she said.
    â€œBreanna might be a little late,” explained Warren.
    Cassie Zing, walking past at that moment, swinging her schoolbag in circles, said, “Ms. Murphy?”
    â€œYes, Cassie?” said Cath. Also, to Warren: “Breanna?”
    â€œI wanted to tell you something important,” said Cassie.
    â€œBreanna,” said Warren. “My wife?”
    â€œDid you, Cassie?” Cath turned smoothly. “What did you want to tell me?”
    â€œThat it’s my birthday tomorrow,” whispered Cassie.
    â€œIf she misses her train from the coast,” Warren explained, “and she says that she might.”
    Cath had bent forward so she could hear Cassie Zing. She kept