Corrine Eva

“As far as Reagan was concerned, Cath was already problematically weird. "It's bad enough that you have homemade Simon Snow posters," Reagan had said last night while she was getting ready for bed. "Do you have to have gay homemade Simon Snow posters?"
Cath had looked up at the drawing over her desk of Simon and Baz holding hands. "Leave them alone," she said. "They're in love.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl

“Reading is not lonely.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl

“The whole prophecy is bollocks," I say. "'And one will come to end us. And one will bring his fall.' Did I also bring my own fall?"
"No," Baz says. "That was me. Obviously."
"How did you bring my fall? I stopped the Humdrum myself."
Baz looks back at his phone, bored. "Fell in love, didn't you?”
― Rainbow Rowell, Carry On

“So . . . ,” she says, following him to the chalkboard. “You got a Visiting. An actual Visiting—Natasha Grimm-Pitch was here.”
Baz glances back over his shoulder. “You sound impressed, Bunce.”
“I am,” Penelope says. “Your mother was a hero. She developed a spell for gnomeatic fever. And she was the youngest headmaster in Watford history.”
Baz is looking at Penny like they’ve never met.
“And,” Penny goes on, “she defended your father in three duels before he accepted her proposal.”
“That sounds barbaric,” I say.
“It was traditional,” Baz says.
“It was brilliant,” Penny says. “I’ve read the minutes.”
“Where?” Baz asks her.
“We have them in our library at home,” she says. “My dad loves marriage rites. Any sort of family magic, actually. He and my mother are bound together in five dimensions.”
“That’s lovely,” Baz says, and I’m terrified because I think he means it.
“I’m going to make time stop when I propose to Micah,” she says.
“The little American? With the thick glasses?”
“Not so little anymore.”
“Interesting.” Baz rubs his chin. “My mother hung the moon.”
“She was a legend,” Penelope beams.
“I thought your parents hated the Pitches,” I say.
They both look at me like I’ve just stuck my hand in the soup bowl.
“That’s politics,” Penelope says. “We’re talking about magic.”
“Obviously,” I say. “What was I thinking.”
“Obviously,” Baz says. “You weren’t.”
“What’s happening right now?” I say. “What are we even doing?”
Penelope folds her arms and squints at the chalkboard. “We,” she declares, “are finding out who killed Natasha Grimm-Pitch.”
“The legend,” Baz says.
Penelope gives him a soft look, the kind she usually saves for me. “So she can rest in peace.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Carry On