Read Online The Girl Who Could Not Dream by Sarah Beth Durst - Free Book Online

much.
    â€œMaybe he likes sheep,” Monster suggested. “And I’m told that many farms keep llamas, to comfort the sheep if they’re lonely. Sheep like flocks. They’re herd animals. Like dogs. Except you say ‘packs’ for dogs, not flocks. And ‘gaggle’ for geese. Pride of lions. Crash of rhinos.”
    â€œâ€˜Crash of rhinos’?” Sophie repeated, grateful for a chance to make her voice sound calm again. “You made that up.”
    â€œDid not. Look it up. There are many interesting names for groups of animals. A quiver of cobras. A charm of finches. A parliament of owls.”
    Dad smiled broadly. “Hey, you know, hate to interrupt, but I think I forgot to eat lunch.” He put his hands over his stomach, and it growled as if on command as loudly as Monster’s snore.
    â€œHow can you eat—” Mom began, then suddenly stopped. “You’re right!” she said brightly. “We’ll eat. Leftovers. Upstairs, all of you.” She shooed Sophie, Monster, and Dad up the stairs to the bookstore and up again to the kitchen.
    â€œWhat do you call a group of monsters?” Sophie asked Monster as they climbed.
    â€œAwesome,” Monster said.
    Upstairs on the second floor, Mom raided the refrigerator for leftovers: a hamburger and two chicken enchiladas (Mom’s best recipe), a few bagels, and a hunk of cheese for Monster. She tossed the cheese at him, and he caught it in his teeth. Taking it out of his mouth with a tentacle, he nibbled at it. Mom shoved the enchiladas in the microwave and the bagels in the toaster. Sophie set the table at the same time, and Dad fluttered from window to window, looking out and then shutting the shades.
    They’re trying to distract me,
Sophie thought. It was Dad’s favorite trick: distract with food. Mom had tried to send her away to do homework, and now it was Dad’s turn. She bet they planned to talk after Sophie went to bed. “What did you mean, he was ‘sending you a message’? The card was for me. What makes you think it was a message to you? And what kind of message?”
    â€œWho?” Mom asked innocently as she poured apple juice into Sophie’s glass.
    Sophie rolled her eyes. They were so transparent. Did they honestly think she’d forget what they were talking about? “The buyer. Mr. Nightmare. What do you think he wants?”
    Mom sighed heavily. “We don’t know. We’ll have to find out.”
    Dad nodded. “Tomorrow, we’ll meet with him and ask.” He cocked his head at Mom as if that was a question, and she nodded.
    The microwave beeped. Mom carried the casserole to the table. Cheese had separated into clumps that clung to the pasta. Certainly not appetizing enough to distract Sophie from the conversation. “What if he’s dangerous?” Sophie asked.
    â€œOh, I doubt that,” Mom said breezily. “We met him, and he seemed harmless. In fact, he was very polite, though a bit intense.”
    â€œNot someone I’d want to have over for a barbecue,” Dad said, “but no alarm bells.”
    Mom nodded. “He said he considers himself a nightmare aficionado, and he’d heard of our work through a colleague. He complimented us for a while, clearly trying to butter us up, and then bought one of our finest nightmares, one that mixed Greek mythology with a cruise ship disaster. And then he said if he liked it, he’d be in touch.”
    â€œHe’s most likely trying to bargain with us,” Dad said while he set the table with forks and knives. “Our prices are higher than most, but that’s because our quality is higher.”
    Mom nodded. “Probably thinks he’s being clever. We’ll explain that if he ever contacts you again, we won’t do business with him anymore.” The bagels popped up in the toaster, singed around the edges. “By the time you’re home from