Coraline

by Neil Gaiman

“I’ll read the leaves, if you want,” said Miss Spink to Coraline. “Sorry?” said Coraline. “The tea leaves, dear. I’ll read your future.” Coraline passed Miss Spink her cup. Miss Spink peered shortsightedly at the black tea leaves in the bottom. She pursed her lips. “You know, Caroline,” she said, after a while, “you are in terrible danger.” Miss Forcible snorted, and put down her knitting. “Don’t be silly, April. Stop scaring the girl. Your eyes are going. Pass me that cup, child.” Coraline carried the cup over to Miss Forcible. Miss Forcible looked into it carefully, shook her head, and looked into it again. “Oh dear,” she said. “You were right, April. She is in danger.” “See, Miriam,” said Miss Spink triumphantly. “My eyes are as good as they ever were….” “What am I in danger from?” asked Coraline. Misses Spink and Forcible stared at her blankly. “It didn’t say,” said Miss Spink. “Tea leaves aren’t reliable for that kind of thing. Not really. They’re good for general, but not for specifics.” “What should I do then?” asked Coraline, who was slightly alarmed by this. “Don’t wear green in your dressing room,” suggested Miss Spink. “Or mention the Scottish play,” added Miss Forcible. Coraline wondered why so few of the adults she had met made any sense. She sometimes wondered who they thought they were talking to. “And be very, very careful,” said Miss Spink. She got up from the armchair and went over to the fireplace. On the mantelpiece was a small jar, and Miss Spink took ...