The Spell Book Of Listen Taylor Read Online Free PDF

about due to have the Samsons and Bellamys for dinner, eh?” Radcliffe said to Fancy, tapping on the steering wheel. He had the habit of talking over Cassie when he found her boring.
    â€œYes,” she agreed. “But Cassie’s birthday’s coming up in a few weeks.”
    â€œWell, then, sixth I’m going to sing and—did you say something about my birthday, Mum?”
    â€œHey, Cass-kid.” Radcliffe glanced in the rearview mirror at Cassie. “Let’s hope you don’t suffer from alektorophobia, eh?”
    There was silence from the backseat for a moment. “Pardon?”
    â€œAlektorophobia.”
    â€œIs it something for my birthday?”
    Radcliffe chuckled. He pulled up at a red light, and Cassie sat quietly, waiting.
    â€œIt’s a fear of chickens,” Radcliffe explained to Fancy, in a low voice. “Alektorophobia. A fear of chickens. We’ll probably have roast chicken for dinner tonight, eh?”
    â€œWell, tell Cassie then! Cassie, don’t worry about Dad, okay? He’s being silly.”
    â€œLeave it,” said Radcliffe, accelerating as the light turned green. “This is how she learns.”
    â€œLearns what!”
    Fancy had the strangest sensation. As if an antelope were nibbling her chin.
    â€œElectra,” murmured Cassie from the backseat. “Alektro? Electro.”
    Radcliffe turned on the radio.

Four
    Tuesday, running late for work, Marbie Zing chose her long floral skirt ( It was a decision she would regret for the rest of her life ), and then with a shiver replaced it and picked the blue dress.
    â€œNathaniel,” she said, waking him with a kiss on his bare shoulder, “what would you think of a woman who didn’t know the difference between daffodils and tulips?”
    Nathaniel opened his eyes and said, “ There is no such woman. ”
    Marbie worked in insurance, third-party recoveries, and along with her colleagues, played car crash on the edge of her desk. Second-party car enters roundabout here, third-party car is reversing here, family of elephants distracts attention here (these doughnuts are the family of elephants), our car heads straight through the middle, and boom! Little plastic people went zipping through the air.
    She read their explanations for their sorry little smashes.
    â€œI sneezed and lost control and hit a fence.”
    â€œI sneezed, hit a pothole, and ran into a tree.”
    â€œI sneezed and collided with the rear end of an elephant.”
    She hushed angry customers and redirected their hostility: “Don’t speak to me like that, please…I’m hanging up now. I’m just about to hang up the phone.”
    Wednesday, running late for work, Marbie tripped out of her high heel. A bicycle courier held the elevator door open while she reached a stockinged foot back to collect it.
    Marbie had always been a slippery kind of person. In restaurants, napkins slid from her lap to the floor. Hair clips never stayed in her hair; they slipped to her shoulders, where they perched like silver butterflies. And her shoes were always falling from her feet. (It was because of this that she was first—aged six and a quarter—stung, on her toe, by a bee. “You ran right out of your sandals,” scolded her mother, who was always cranky when they hurt themselves.)
    That day, however, she was slippery because she was distracted: It was Listen’s first day at Clareville Academy. “She’s too small for that school,” Marbie had said to Nathaniel last year. “Send her somewhere nice and little, like Bellbird Junior High.”
    Nathaniel had pointed out that Listen was an average size. Also, that her friends from elementary, Donna Turnbull and the others, would take care of her at Clareville; also, that the only thing Listen’s mother ever did for her, besides sending a postcard or two, was set up an education trust fund. It was important that