Girl's Guide To Witchcraft

They don't teach witchcraft in library school. Vermin--check. Mold and mildew--check. Difficult patrons--check. But there was no course in witchcraft, no syllabus for sorcery. If only I'd been properly prepared for my first real job. I was probably responsible for what happened. After all, I was the one who recited the Scottish play as I pulled a gigantissimo nonfat half-caf half-decaf light-hazelnut heavy-vanilla wet cappuccino with whole-milk foam and a dusting of cinnamon."Double, double, toil and trouble," I said as I plunged the steel nozzle into the carafe of milk. "What's that from, Jane?" asked my customer, a middle-aged woman who frequented the library on Monday afternoons. Her name was Marguerite, and she was researching something about colonial gardens. She'd had me track down endless pamphlets about propagating flowering trees. "Macbeth,"I said. See. Itwasmy fault. Everyone knows that it's bad luck to say the name of Shakespeare's Scottish play. At least for actors it is. Still, I should never have risked the curse. I probably deserved everything else that happened that day and in the weeks that followed.Every last thing.Even the-- Well. No need to get ahead of myself. I rang up Marguerite's coffee and crossed back to my desk. Strictly speaking, it wasn't necessary to walk by the online catalog. I didn'tneedto straighten the pens. I didn'thaveto set out more scratch paper. I wasn'trequiredto organize the newspapers. But all that busywork gave me an opportunity to walk by Jason Templeton's table. Jason was my Imaginary Boyfriend. Oh, he was real enough.He just didn't know that he was my boyfriend.Yet. Jason was an assistant professor at Mid-Atlantic University. He looked exactly like that movie star in last summer's blockbuster--you know, the one who suavely seduced two different women while he double-crossed the Mafia and stole the Hope Diamond? Except his hair was caramel-colored. And curly. And he was on the skinny side. And I've never seen him in a tuxedo--he's more of a J.Crew sort of guy. Okay, maybe he didn't look exactly like a movie star, but when someone is your Imaginary Boyfriend,you give your fantasy a little breathing room.... In fact, since fantasy was my only romantic outlet these days, I gave my dreams alotof breathing room. After all, they were the magical cure. My dreaming about Jason was helping me to move on, to get over the near-legendary Jilting of Jane Madison. I knew I should be over Scott Randall by now. Any man who would choose climbing the law firm ladder at his firm's London office over being my beloved husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse.... Well, he wasn't worth having. Especially when he'd hooked up with some British slut his first week on the new job. And when he had the nerve to write to me--writeto me!--and ask for my engagement ring to give to her.... But Scott Randall was the only man I'd ever loved. Really. And how sad was that? I was twenty-nine years old, and I'd only loved one man. He'd been my high school sweetheart. I'd never even dated seriously in college; Scott and I had made our long-distance thing work.College,then grad school for me (twice-first for a worthless English master's focusing on Shakespeare,then practical library science!) and law school for him. We'd lived together in D.C. before he took off for London. He'd dumped me almost nine months ago, and it still felt like a part of me was dying every time I looked at my bare left hand. So,Jason Templeton was actually a great development for me. Even if I wasn't ready to confess my attraction to him. Even if I hadn't quite brought myself to take a risk,to move him from the Imaginary category to Real Flesh and Blood. At least I had convinced myself that--however unconsciously--Jason came to the Peabridge Free Library to see me. Well, to see me,Klasky, Mindy is the author of 'Girl's Guide To Witchcraft', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373896073 and ISBN 0373896077.