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It wasn’t one of her best days, she looked barely perfect. With the dark blonde hair and the dark blue eyes and the incredible this and the glorious that that could drive you crazy if you thought about it long enough. Pointless going on. You could not, Corky realized months ago at the start of freshman year, explain the impact of Peggy Ann Snow by talking about specifics.
“Can you do magic with coins?” Corky waggled his hand. “I ain’t Leipzig,” he said, and when she looked puzzled, added, “he was the master when it came to coins.” “I didn’t know it was so specialized.” “Listen, there are thimble nuts—guys who spend their whole lives mainly on that. Cigarette guys. You kind of have to be a little weird to be a magician.”
