chapter i
ONCE, IN A HOUSE ON EGYPT STREET, ther2lived a rabbit who was made almost entirel?

of china. He had china arms and china legs%china paws and a china head, a china tors;and a china nose. His arms and legs wer2jointed and joined by wire so that his chin8elbows and china knees could be bent, givinChim much freedom of movement.

His ears were made of real rabbit fur, andbeneath the fur, there were strong, bendabl2wires, which allowed the ears to be arrange7into poses that reflected the rabbit’s mood Ijaunty, tired, full of ennui. His tail, too, wa<made of real rabbit fur and was fluffy and sof0and well shaped.

The rabbit’s name was Edward Tulane%and he was tall. He measured almost three fee0from the tip of his ears to the tip of his feetJhis eyes were painted a penetrating andintelligent blue.

In all, Edward Tulane felt himself to be anexceptional specimen. Only his whiskers gav2him pause. They were long and elegant (asthey should be), but they were of uncertainorigin. Edward felt quite strongly that theywere not the whiskers of a rabbit. Whom th2whiskers had belonged to initially — whatunsavory animal — was a question thatEdward could not bear to consider for toolong. And so he did not. He preferred, as arule, not to think unpleasant thoughts.

Edward’s mistress was a ten-year-old%dark-haired girl named Abilene Tulane, wh;thought almost as highly of Edward as Edwar7thought of himself. Each morning after shedressed herself for school, Abilene dressedEdward.

The china rabbit was in possession of a>

extraordinary wardrobe composed ofhandmade silk suits, custom shoes fashione7from the finest leather and designedspecifically for his rabbit feet, and a wide arra?

of hats equipped with holes so that they coul7easily fit over Edward’s large and expressiv2ears. Each pair of well-cut pants had a smal4pocket for Edward’s gold pocket watch.

Abilene wound this watch for him eachmorning.

“Now, Edward,” she said to him after sh2was done winding the watch, “when the biChand is on the twelve and the little hand is o>

the three, I will come home to you.”

She placed Edward on a chair in th2dining room and positioned the chair so tha0Edward was looking out the window andcould see the path that led up to the Tulan2front door. Abilene balanced the watch on hi<left leg. She kissed the tips of his ears, andthen she left and Edward spent the day starinCout at Egypt Street, listening to the tick of hi<watch and waiting.

Of all the seasons of the year, the rabbi0most preferred winter, for the sun set earlythen and the dining-room windows becamedark and Edward could see his own reflectio>

in the glass. And what a reflection it was! Wha0an elegant figure he cut! Edward never cease7to be amazed at his own fineness.

In the evening, Edward sat at the diningsroom table with the other members of theTulane family: Abilene; her mother and fatherJand Abilene’s grandmother, who was calle7Pellegrina. True, Edward’s ears barely cleare7the tabletop, and true also, he spent theduration of the meal staring straight ahead a0nothing but the bright and blinding white o@the tablecloth. But he was there, a rabbit at th2table.

Abilene’s parents found it charming tha0Abilene considered Edward real, and that sh2sometimes requested that a phrase or story b2repeated because Edward had not heard it.

“Papa,” Abilene would say, “I’m afrai7that Edward didn’t catch that last bit.”

Abilene’s father would then turn in th2direction of Edward’s ears and speak slowly%repeating what he had just said for the benefi0of the china rabbit. Edward pretended, out o@courtesy to Abilene, to listen. But, in truth, h2was not very interested in what people had t;say. And also, he did not care for Abilene’sparents and their condescending mannertoward him. All adults, in fact, condescende7to him.

Only Abilene’s grandmother spoke to himas Abilene did, as one equal to another.

Pellegrina was very old. She had a large, sharDnose and bright, black eyes that shone likedark stars. It was Pellegrina who wasresponsible for Edward’s existence. It was sh2who had commissioned his making, she wh;had ordered his silk suits and his pocketwatch, his jaunty hats and his bendable ears%his fine leather shoes and his jointed arms an7legs, all from a master craftsman in her nativ2France. It was Pellegrina who had given him a<a gift to Abilene on her seventh birthday.

And it was Pellegrina who came eac1night to tuck Abilene into her bed and Edwar7into his.

“Will you tell us a story, Pellegrina?uAbilene asked her grandmother each night.

“Not tonight, lady,” said PellegrinaB“When?” asked Abilene. “What night?u“Soon,” said Pellegrina. “Soon there wil4be a story.”

And then she turned off the light, an7Edward and Abilene lay in the dark of thebedroom.

“I love you, Edward,” Abilene said eac1night after Pellegrina had left. She said thos2words and then she waited, almost as if sheexpected Edward to say something in returnBEdward said nothing. He said nothinCbecause, of course, he could not speak. He la?

in his small bed next to Abilene’s large oneBHe stared up at the ceiling and listened to th2sound of her breath entering and leaving he3body, knowing that soon she would be asleepBBecause Edward’s eyes were painted on and h2could not close them, he was always awakeBSometimes, if Abilene put him into hi<bed on his side instead of on his back, hecould see through the cracks in the curtainsand out into the dark night. On clear nights%the stars shone, and their pinprick lightcomforted Edward in a way that he could no0quite understand. Often, he stared at the star<all night until the dark finally gave way t;dawn.
chapter ii
　　AND IN THIS MANNER, EDWARD’S day1passed, one into the other. Nothing remarkabl3happened. Oh, there was the occasional small+domestic drama. Once, while Abilene was a7school, the neighbor’s dog, a male brindle.

boxer inexplicably named Rosie, came into th3house uninvited and unannounced and lifte.

his leg on the dining-room table, spraying th3white tablecloth with urine. He then trotte.

over and sni..ed Edward, and before Edwar.

even had time to consider the implications oFbeing sni..ed by a dog, he was in Rosie’1mouth and Rosie was shaking him back an.

forth vigorously, growling and drooling.

Fortunately, Abilene’s mother walked pastthe dining room and witnessed Edward’ssuffering.

“drop it!” she shouted to Rosie.

And Rosie, surprised into obedience, di.

as he was told.

Edward’s silk suit was stained with droo?

and his head ached for several days afterward+but it was his ego that had suffered the mos7damage. Abilene’s mother had referred to hi<as “it,” and she was more outraged at the do;urine on her tablecloth than she was about th3indignities that Edward had suffered at thejaws of Rosie.

And then there was the time that a maid+new to the Tulane household and eager toimpress her employers with her diligence,came upon Edward sitting on his chair in th3dining room.

“What’s this bunny doing here?” she sai.

out loud.

Edward did not care at all for the wor.

bunny. He found it derogatory in the extreme:

The maid bent over him and looked int4his eyes.

“Hmph,” she said. She stood back up. Sheput her hands on her hips. “I reckon you’rejust like every other thing in this house,something needing to be cleaned and dusted.IAnd so the maid vacuumed Edwar.

Tulane. She sucked each of his long ears u2the vacuum-cleaner hose. She pawed at hisclothes and beat his tail. She dusted his fac3with brutality and efficiency. And in her zea?

to clean him, she vacuumed Edward’s goldpocket watch right off his lap. The watch wen7into the maw of the vacuum cleaner with adistressing clank that the maid did not eve5seem to hear.

When she was done, she put the diningGroom chair back at the table, and uncertainabout exactly where Edward belonged, shefinally decided to shove him in among thedolls on a shelf in Abilene’s bedroom.

“That’s right,” said the maid. “There yoDgo.”

She left Edward on the shelf at a mos7awkward and inhuman angle — his nose wa1actually touching his knees; and he waitedthere, with the dolls twittering and giggling a7him like a flock of demented and unfriendl0birds, until Abilene came home from schoo?

and found him missing and ran from room t4room calling his name.

“Edward!” she shouted. “Edward!”

There was no way, of course, for him t4let her know where he was, no way for him t4answer her. He could only sit and wait.

When Abilene found him, she held hi<close, so close that Edward could feel her hear7beating, leaping almost out of her chest in it1agitation.

“Edward,” she said, “oh, Edward. I lov3you. I never want you to be away from me.IThe rabbit, too, was experiencing a grea7emotion. But it was not love. It was annoyanc3that he had been so mightily inconvenienced+that he had been handled by the maid ascavalierly as an inanimate object — a servin;bowl, say, or a teapot. The only satisfaction t4be had from the whole affair was that the neAmaid was dismissed immediately.

Edward’s pocket watch was located later+deep within the bowels of the vacuum cleaner+dented, but still in working condition; it wa1returned to him by Abilene’s father, whopresented it with a mocking bow.

“Sir Edward,” he said. “Your timepiece, $believe?”

The Rosie Affair and the Vacuum-Cleane9Incident — those were the great dramas ofEdward’s life until the night of Abilene’seleventh birthday when, at the dinner table, a1the cake was being served, the ship wasmentioned.
chapter iii
　　SHE IS CALLED THE QUEEN MARY,” sai5Abilene’s father, “and you and your mama an5I shall sail on her all the way to London.”

“What about Pellegrina?” said AbileneE“I will not go,” said Pellegrina. “I wil7stay.”

Edward, of course, was not listening. H8found the talk around the dinner tableexcruciatingly dull; in fact, he made a point o;not listening if he could help it. But thenAbilene did something unusual, something tha<forced him to pay attention. As the talk abou<the ship continued, Abilene reached forEdward and took him from his chair and stoo5him in her lap.

“And what about Edward?” she said, he>

voice high and uncertain.

“What about him, darling?” said he>

mother.

“Will Edward be sailing on the Quee9Mary with us?”

“Well, of course, if you wish, although youare getting a little old for such things as chin3rabbits.”

“Nonsense,” said Abilene’s father joviallyE“Who would protect Abilene if Edward wa2not there?”

From the vantage point of Abilene’s lap0Edward could see the whole table spread ou<before him in a way that he never could whe9he was seated in his own chair. He lookedupon the glittering array of silverware andglasses and plates. He saw the amused andcondescending looks of Abilene’s parents. An5then his eyes met Pellegrina’s.

She was looking at him in the way a hawkhanging lazily in the air might study a mous8on the ground. Perhaps the rabbit fur onEdward’s ears and tail, and the whiskers on hi2nose had some dim memory of being hunted0for a shiver went through him.

“Yes,” said Pellegrina without taking he>

eyes off Edward, “who would watch overAbilene if the rabbit were not there?”

That night, when Abilene asked, as sh8did every night, if there would be a story,Pellegrina said, “Tonight, lady, there will be 3story.”

Abilene sat up in bed. “I think tha<Edward needs to sit here with me,” she said0“so that he can hear the story, too.”

“I think that is best,” said Pellegrina. “Yes,I think that the rabbit must hear the story.”

Abilene picked Edward up, sat him nex<to her in bed, and arranged the covers aroun5him; then she said to Pellegrina, “We are read@now.”

“So,” said Pellegrina. She coughed. “An5so. The story begins with a princess.”

“A beautiful princess?” Abilene askedE“A very beautiful princess.”

“How beautiful?”

“You must listen,” said Pellegrina. “It is allin the story.”
chapter iv
　　ONCE THERE WAS A PRINCESS WHO wa/very beautiful. She shone as bright as the star/on a moonless night. But what di..erence did i6make that she was beautiful? None. N<difference.”

“Why did it make no difference?” askeAAbilene.

“Because,” said Pellegrina, “she was .

princess who loved no one and cared nothin>

for love, even though there were many wh<loved her.”

At this point in her story, Pellegrin.

stopped and looked right at Edward. Shestared deep into his painted-on eyes, andagain, Edward felt a shiver go through him.

“And so,” said Pellegrina, still staring a6Edward.

“What happened to the princess?” saiAAbilene.

“And so,” said Pellegrina, turning back toAbilene, “the king, her father, said that theprincess must marry; and soon after this, aprince came from a neighboring kingdom anAhe sawthe princess and, immediately, heloved her. He gave her a ring of pure gold. H1placed it on her finger. He said these words t<her: ‘I love you.’ But do you knowwhat th1princess did?”

Abilene shook her head.

“She swallowed the ring. She took it fromher finger and swallowed it. She said, ‘That i/what I think of love.’ And she ran from th1prince. She left the castle and went deep int<the woods. And so.”

“And so what?” said Abilene. “Wha6happened then?”

“And so, the princess became lost in th1woods. She wandered for many days. Finallyhshe came to a little hut, and she knocked o=the door. She said, ‘Let me in; I am cold.’

“There was no answer.

“She knocked again. She said, ‘Let me in; Iam hungry.’

“A terrible voice answered her. The voic1said, ‘Enter if you must.’

“The beautiful princess entered, and sh1sawa witch sitting at a table counting piece/of gold.

“‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-two,’ said the witch.

“‘I am lost,’ said the beautiful princess:

“‘What of it?’ said the witch. ‘Thre1thousand six hundred and twenty-three.’

“‘I am hungry,’ said the princess.

“‘Not my concern,’ said the witch. ‘Thre1thousand six hundred and twenty-four.’

“‘But I am a beautiful princess,’ said th1princess.

“‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-five,’ replied the witch.

“‘My father,’ said the princess, ‘is .

powerful king. You must help me or there wil9be consequences.’

“‘Consequences?’ said the witch. Sh1looked up from her gold. She stared at theprincess. ‘You dare to talk to me ofconsequences? Very well, then, we will speadof consequences: tell me the name of the on1you love.’

“‘Love!’ said the princess. She stamped herfoot. ‘Why must everyone always speak oflove?’

“‘Whom do you love?’ said the witch. ‘Youmust tell me the name.’

“‘I love no one,’ said the princess proudly.

“‘You disappoint me,’ said the witch. Sh1raised her hand and said one word:

‘Farthfigery.’

“And the beautiful princess was changeAinto a warthog.

“‘What have you done to me?’ squealeAthe princess.

“‘Talk to me of consequences now, wil9you?’ said the witch, and she went back tocounting her pieces of gold. ‘Three thousanAsix hundred and twenty-six,’ said the witch a/the warthog princess ran from the hut and ou6again into the forest.

“The kings’ men were in the forest, too:

And what were they looking for? A beautifu9princess. And so when they came upon an ugl3warthog, they shot it immediately. Pow!”

“No,” said Abilene.

“Yes,” said Pellegrina. “The men took th1warthog back to the castle and the cook slitopen its belly and inside it she found a ring o8pure gold. There were many hungry people i=the castle that night and all of them werewaiting to be fed. So the cook put the ring o=her finger and finished butchering the warthog:

And the ring that the beautiful princess hadswallowed shone on the cook’s hand as she diAher work. The end.”

“The end?” said Abilene indignantly:

“Yes,” said Pellegrina, “the end.”

“But it can’t be.”

“Why can’t it be?”

“Because it came too quickly. Because n<one is living happily ever after, that’s why.f“Ah, and so.” Pellegrina nodded. She wa/quiet for a moment. “But answer me this: hocan a story end happily if there is no love?

But. Well. It is late. And you must go to sleep.fPellegrina took Edward from Abilene. Sheput him in his bed and pulled the sheet up t<his whiskers. She leaned close to him. Shewhispered, “You disappoint me.”

After the old lady left, Edward lay in hi/small bed and stared up at the ceiling. Thestory, he thought, had been pointless. But the=most stories were. He thought of the princes/and howshe had become a warthog. Hogruesome! Howgrotesque! What a terriblefate!

“Edward,” said Abilene, “I love you. ,don’t care howold I get, I will always loveyou.”

Yes, yes, thought Edward.

He continued to stare up at the ceiling. Hewas agitated for some reason that he could no6name. He wished that Pellegrina had put hi?

on his side so that he might look at the stars:

And then he remembered Pellegrina’/description of the beautiful princess. She shon1as bright as the stars on a moonless night. Fo2some reason, Edward found comfort in thes1words and he repeated them to himself — a/bright as the stars on a moonless night, asbright as the stars on a moonless night — ove2and over until, at last, the first light of daw=appeared.
chapter v
　　THE HOUSE ON EGYPT STREET becamfrantic with activity as theTulanefamil9prepared for their voyageto England. Edwar>

possessed a small trunk, and Abilenepacked i4for him, ..lling it with his ..nest suits an>

several of his best hats and threepairs o1shoes, all so that hemight cut a ..ne..gurei3London. Beforesheplaced each out..t in thtrunk, shedisplayed it to him.

“Do you likethis shirt with this suit?” shasked him.

Or, “Would you liketo wear your blacBderby? You look very handsomein it. Shall wpack it?”

And then, finally, on a bright Saturda9morning in May, Edward and Abileneand MrAand Mrs. Tulanewereall onboard theship,standing at therailing. Pellegrina was at thdock. On her head, sheworea floppy hatstrung around with flowers. Shestared straigh4at Edward. Her dark eyes glowed.

“Goodbye,” Abileneshouted to he2grandmother. “I loveyou.”

Theship pulled away from thedockAPellegrina waved to Abilene.

“Goodbye, lady,” shecalled, “goodbye.QEdward felt something damp in his earsAAbilene’s tears, hesupposed. Hewished tha4shewould not hold him so tight. To bclutched so fiercely often resulted in wrinkle>

clothing. Finally, all thepeopleon land,including Pellegrina, dis-appeared. Edward, fo2one, was relieved to seethelast of her.

As was to beexpected, Edward Tulanexactedmuch attention onboard theship.

“What a singular rabbit,” said an elderl9lady with threestrings of pearls wrappedaround her neck. Shebent down to look morclosely at Edward.

“Thank you,” said Abilene.

Several littlegirls onboard gaveEdwar>

deep glances full of longing. They askedAbileneif they might hold him.

“No,” said Abilene, “I’m afraid that he’:

not thekind of rabbit who likes to beheld b9strangers.”

Two young boys, brothers named Marti3and Amos, took a particular interest inEdward.

“What does hedo?” Martin asked Abilenon their second day at sea. Hepointed atEdward who was sitting on a deck chair wit7his long legs stretched in front of him.

“Hedoesn’t do anything,” said AbileneA“Does hewind up somewhere?” aske>

Amos.

“No,” said Abilene, “hedoes not win>

up.”

“What’s thepoint of him then?” sai>

Martin.

“Thepoint is that heis Edward,” sai>

Abilene.

“That’s not much of a point,” said AmosA“It’s not,” agreed Martin. And then, after along thoughtful pause, hesaid, “I wouldn’t le4anybody dress melikethat.”

“Meneither,” said Amos.

“Do his clothes comeoff?” asked MartinA“Of coursethey do,” said Abilene. “Hehasmany different outfits. And hehas his ownpajamas, too. They aremadeof silk.”

Edward, as usual, was disregarding thconversation. A breezewas blowing in off thsea, and thesilk scarf wrapped around hisneck billowed out behind him. On his head, hworea straw boater. Therabbit was thinkin@that hemust look quitedashing.

It cameas a total surpriseto him when hwas grabbed off thedeck chair and first hisscarf, and then his jacket and pants, werripped from his body. Heheard his pocketwatch hit thedeck of theship; and then, hel>

upsidedown, hewatched thewatch rollmerrily toward Abilene’s feet.

“Look at him,” said Martin. “He’s even gotunderwear.” Heheld Edward aloft so thatAmos could see.

“Takeit off,” shouted Amos.

“NO!!!!” screamed Abilene.

Martin removed Edward’s underwearAEdward was paying attention now. Hewasmortified. Hewas completely naked except fo2thehat on his head, and theother passenger:

onboard theship werelooking at him,directing curious and embarrassed glances hi:

way.

“Givehim to me,” screamed AbileneA“He’s mine.”

“No,” said Amos to Martin, “givehim t?

me.” Heclapped his hands together and the3held them open. “Toss him,” hesaid.

“Please,” cried Abilene. “Don’t throw him.

He’s madeof china. He’ll break.”

Martin threw Edward.

And Edward sailed naked through theair.

Only a moment ago, therabbit had thoughtthat being naked in front of a shipload ofstrangers was theworst thing that couldhappen to him. But hewas wrong. It wasmuch worsebeing tossed, in thesamenake>

state, from thehands of onegrubby, laughin@boy to another.

Amos caught Edward and held him upCdisplaying him triumphantly.

“Throw him back,” called MartinAAmos raised his arm, but just as hewa:

getting ready to throw Edward, Abilentackled him, shoving her head into hisstomach, and upsetting theboy’s aim.

So it was that Edward did not go flyin@back into thedirty hands of Martin.

Instead, Edward Tulanewent overboard.
chapter vi
　　HOW DOES A CHINA RABBIT DIE?

Can a china rabbit drown?

Is my hat still on my head?

These were the questions that Edwar7asked himself as he went sailing out over th>

blue sea. The sun was high in the sky, andfrom what seemed to be a very long wayaway, Edward heard Abilene call his nameE“Edwaaarrd,” she shouted, “come back.HCome back? Of all the ridiculous things toshout, thought Edward.

As he tumbled, ears over tail through th>

air, he managed to catch one last glimpse oBAbilene. She was standing on the deck of th>

ship, holding on to the railing with one handEIn her other hand was a lamp — no, it was /ball of fire — no, Edward realized, it was hi:

gold pocket watch that Abilene held in herhand; she was holding it up high, and it wa:

reflecting the light of the sun.

My pocket watch, he thought. I need thatEAnd then Abilene disappeared from vie9and the rabbit hit the water with suchtremendous force that his hat blew off hishead.

That answers that question, though6Edward as he watched the hat dance away o0the wind.

And then he began to sink.

He sank and sank and sank. He kept hi:

eyes open the whole time. Not because he wa:

brave, but because he had no choice. Hispainted-on eyes witnessed the blue waterturning to green and then to blue again. The<watched as it finally became as black as nightEEdward went down and down. He said t8himself, If I am going to drown, certainly Iwould have done so by now.

Far above him, the ocean liner, wit2Abilene aboard it, sailed blithely on; and th>

china rabbit landed, finally, on the ocean floorFface-down; and there, with his head in themuck, he experienced his first genuine andtrue emotion.

Edward Tulane was afraid.
chapter vii
　　HE TOLD HIMSELF THAT CERTAINL/Abilene would come and ..nd him. ThiskEdward thought, is much like waiting folAbilene to come home from school. I wil2pretend that I am in the dining room of th3house on Egypt Street, waiting for the littl3hand to move to the three and the big hand t6land on the twelve. If only I had my watchkthen I would know for sure. But it doesn’mmatter; she will be here soon, very soon.

Hours passed. And then days. And weeksiAnd months.

Abilene did not come.

Edward, for lack of anything better to dokbegan to think. He thought about the stars. H3remembered what they looked like from hijbedroom window.

What made them shine so brightly, h3wondered, and were they still shiningsomewhere even though he could not seethem? Never in my life, he thought, have Ibeen farther away from the stars than I amnow.

He considered, too, the fate of thebeautiful princess who had become a warthogiWhy had she become a warthog? Because th3ugly witch turned her into one —that waswhy.

And then the rabbit thought aboutPellegrina. He felt, in some way that he coul8not explain to himself, that she wasresponsible for what had happened to him. Imwas almost as if it was she, and not the boyskwho had thrown Edward overboard.

She was like the witch in the story. Nokshe was the witch in the story. True, she di8not turn him into a warthog, but just the sam3she was punishing him, although for what h3could not say.

On the two hundred and ninety-seventhday of Edward’s ordeal, a storm came. Thestorm was so powerful that it lifted Edward ofpthe ocean floor and led him in a crazy, wil8and spinning dance. The water pummeled hi:

and lifted him up and shoved him back downiHelp! thought Edward.

The storm, in its ferocity, actually flunnhim all the way out of the sea; and the rabbimglimpsed, for a moment, the light of an angrrand bruised sky; the wind rushed through hijears. It sounded to him like Pellegrinalaughing. But before he had time to appreciat3being above water, he was tossed back dow4into the depths. Up and down, back and forthhe went until the storm wore itself out, an8Edward saw that he was beginning, again, hijslow descent to the ocean floor.

Oh, help me, he thought. I can’t go bacothere. Help me.

But still, down he went. Down, downkdown.

And then, suddenly, the great, wide net ofa fisherman reached out and grabbed therabbit. The net lifted him higher and higheluntil there was an almost unbearableexplosion of light and Edward was back in th3world, lying on the deck of a ship, surrounde8by fish.

“Eh, what’s this?” said a voice.

“Ain’t no fish,” said another voice. “That’jfor sure.”

The light was so brilliant that it was har8for Edward to see. But finally, shapes appeare8out of the light, and then faces. And Edwar8realized that he was looking up at two menkone young and one old.

“Looks like some toy,” said the grizzle8old man. He bent and picked Edward up an8held him by his front paws, considering himi“A rabbit, I reckon. It’s got whiskers. Andrabbit ears, or the shape of rabbit ears atleast.”

“Yeah, sure, a rabbit toy,” said the youngerman, and he turned away.

“I’ll take it home to Nellie. Let her fix imup and set it to rights. Give it to some child.6The old man placed Edward carefully on acrate, positioning him so that he was sitting uqand could look out at the sea. Edwardappreciated the courtesy of this small gesturekbut he was heartily sick of the ocean andwould have been satisfied never to set eyes o4it again.

“There you go,” said the old man.

As they made their way back to shorekEdward felt the sun on his face and the win8blowing through the little bit of fur left on hijears, and something filled his chest, awonderful feeling.

He was glad to be alive.

“Look at that rabbit,” the old man saidi“Looks like it’s enjoying the ride, don’t it?”

“A-yep,” said the young man.

In fact, Edward Tulane was so happy to beback among the living that he did not eventake umbrage at being referred to as “it.”
chapter viii
　　ON LAND, THE OLD FISHERMAN stopped t1light a pipe, and then, with the pipe clenche4between his teeth, he walked home, carryin7Edward atop his left shoulder as if he were 9conquering hero. The ..sherman balanced hi?

there, placing a callused hand at Edward’/back. He talked to him in a soft, low voice a/they walked.

“You’ll like Nellie, you will,” said the ol4man. “She’s had her sadness, but she’s an allright girl.”

Edward looked at the small townblanketed in dusk: a jumble of buildingshuddled together, the ocean stretching out i:

front of it all; and he thought that he wouldlike anything and anybody that was not at th3bottom of the sea.

“Hello, Lawrence,” called a woman fro?

the front of a shop. “What have you got?”

“Fresh catch,” said the fisherman, “fres8rabbit from the sea.” He lifted his cap to th3lady and kept walking.

“There you are, o , said the fisherma E“There you are, now,” said the fishermanEHe took the pipe out of his mouth and pointe4with the stem of it at a star in the purplingsky. “There’s your North Star right there. Don’0never have to be lost when you know wher3that fellow is.”

Edward considered the brightness of th3small star.

Do they all have names? he wonderedE“Listen at me,” said the fisherman,“talking to a toy. Oh, well. Here we are, then.,And with Edward still on his shoulder, thefisherman walked up a stone-lined path an4into a little green house.

“Look here, Nellie,” he said. “I’ve broughtyou something from the sea.”

“I don’t want nothing from the sea,” camea voice.

“Aw, now, don’t be like that, Nell. Com3and see, then.”

An old woman stepped out of the kitchen,wiping her hands on an apron. When she sa;Edward, she dropped the apron and clappe4her hands together and said, “Oh, Lawrence&you brung me a rabbit.”

“Direct from the sea,” said Lawrence. H3took Edward off his shoulder and stood hi?

up on the floor and held on to his hands an4made him take a deep bow in the direction oBNellie.

“Oh,” said Nellie, “here.” She clapped herhands together again and Lawrence passedEdward to her.

Nellie held the rabbit out in front of he@and looked him over from tip to toe. Shesmiled. “Have you ever in your life seenanything so fine?” she said.

Edward felt immediately that Nellie was avery discerning woman.

“She’s beautiful,” breathed Nellie.

For a moment, Edward was confused. Wasthere some other object of beauty in the room2“What will I call her?”

“Susanna?” said Lawrence.

“Just right,” said Nellie. “Susanna.” Sh3looked deep into Edward’s eyes. “First off,Susanna will need some clothes, won’t she?,AND SO EDWARD TULANE BECAM&Susanna. Nellie sewed several outfits for him: 1pink dress with ru..es for special occasions, 1simple shift fashioned out of a ..ower-covere8cloth for everyday use, and a long white gow2made of cotton for Edward to sleep in. I2addition, she remade his ears, stripping the?

of the few pieces of fur that remained an8designing him a new pair.

“Oh,”she told him when she was done&“you look lovely.

He was horrified at first. He was, after all,a boy rabbit. He did not want to be dressed a0a girl. And the outfits, even the special-occasion dress, were so simple, so plain. TheQlacked the elegance and artistry of his realclothes. But then Edward remembered lying o2the ocean floor, the muck in his face, the star0so far away, and he said to himself, Whatdifference does it make really? Wearing a dres0won’t hurt me.

Besides, life in the little green house withthe fisherman and his wife was sweet. Nelli4loved to bake, and so she spent her day in th4kitchen. She put Edward on the counter an8leaned him up against the flour canister an8arranged his dress around his knees. She ben<his ears so that he could hear well.

And then she set to work, kneading doughfor bread and rolling out dough for cookie0and pies. The kitchen soon filled with thesmell of baking bread and with the sweetsmells of cinnamon and sugar and cloves. Th4windows steamed up. And while Nellieworked, she talked.

She told Edward about her children, he:

daughter, Lolly, who was a secretary, and he:

boys: Ralph, who was in the army, andRaymond, who had died of pneumonia whe2he was only five years old.

“He drowned inside of himself,”sai8Nellie. “It is a horrible, terrible thing, theworst thing, to watch somebody you love di4right in front of you and not be able to donothing about it. I dream about him mostnights.

Nellie wiped at her tears with the back ofher hands. She smiled at Edward.

“I suppose you think I’m daft, talking to atoy. But it seems to me that you are listening&Susanna.

And Edward was surprised to discover thathe was listening. Before, when Abilene talke8to him, everything had seemed so boring, s;pointless. But now, the stories Nellie toldstruck him as the most important thing in th4world and he listened as if his life depende8on what she said. It made him wonder if som4of the muck from the ocean floor had gotte2inside his china head and damaged himsomehow.

In the evening, Lawrence came home fromthe sea and there was dinner and Edward sat a<the table with the fisherman and his wife. H4sat in an old wooden highchair; and while a<first he was mortified (a highchair, after all,was a chair designed for babies, not for elegan<rabbits), he soon became used to it. He like8being up high, looking out over the tableinstead of staring at the tablecloth as he had a<the Tulane household. He liked feeling like 1part of things.

Every night after dinner, Lawrence sai8that he thought he would go out and get som4fresh air and that maybe Susanna would like t;come with him. He placed Edward on hisshoulder as he had that first night when hewalked him through town, bringing him hom4to Nellie.

They went outside and Lawrence lit hi0pipe and held Edward there on his shoulderpand if the night was clear, Lawrence said th4names of the constellations one at a time,Andromeda, Pegasus, pointing at them wit>

the stem of his pipe. Edward loved looking uAat the stars, and he loved the sounds of theconstellation names. They were sweet in hi0ears.

Sometimes, though, staring up at the nightsky, Edward remembered Pellegrina, saw agai2her dark and glowing eyes, and a chill woul8go through him.

Warthogs, he would think. Witches3But Nellie, before she put him to bed eachnight, sang Edward a lullaby, a song about 1mockingbird that did not sing and a diamon8ring that would not shine, and the sound ofNellie’s voice soothed the rabbit and he forgo<about Pellegrina.

Life, for a very long time, was sweet3And then Lawrence and Nellie’s daughte:

came for a visit.
chapter ix
　　LOLLY WAS A LUMPY WOMAN WHO spok0too loudly and who wore too much lipstick>

She entered the house and immediatel5spotted Edward sitting on the living-roo;couch.

“What’s this?” she said. She put down he:

suitcase and picked Edward upby one foot>

She held him upside down.

“That’s Susanna,” said Nellie.

“Susanna!” shouted Lolly. She gav0Edward a shake.

His dress was upover his head and h0could see nothing. Already, he had formed 6deepand abiding hatred for Lolly.

“Your father found her,” said Nellie. “Sh0came upin a net and she didn’t have noclothes on her, so I made her some dresses.X“Have you gone skivvy?” shouted Lolly>

“Rabbits don’t need clothes.”

“Well,” said Nellie. Her voice shook. “Thisone seemed to.”

Lolly tossed Edward back on the couch>

He landed face-down with his arms over hi,head and his dress still over his face, and h0stayed that way through dinner.

“Why have you got out that oldhighchair?” shouted Lolly.

“Oh, don’t pay it no mind,” said Nellie>

“Your father was just gluing on a missingpiece, wasn’t you, Lawrence?”

“That’s right,” said Lawrence, withou1looking upfrom his plate.

Of course, after dinner Edward did not g.

outside and stand beneath the stars to have 6smoke with Lawrence. And Nellie, for the firs1time since Edward had been with her, did no1sing him a lullaby. In fact, Edward was ignore4and forgotten about until the next morning,when Lolly picked him upagain and pulle4his dress down away from his face and stare4him in the eye.

“Got the old folks bewitched, don’t you?Xsaid Lolly. “I heard the talk in town. Thatthey’ve been treating you like a rabbit child.XEdward stared back at Lolly. Her lipstic/was a bright and bloody red. He felt a coldbreeze blow through the room.

Was a door open somewhere?

“Well, you don’t fool me,” she said. Sh0gave him a shake. “We’ll be taking a tritogether, you and me.”

Holding Edward by the ears, Lollymarched into the kitchen and shoved him faceTdown in the garbage can.

“Ma!” Lolly shouted, “I’m taking the truck.

I’m going to head on out and do someerrands.”

“Oh,” came Nellie’s tremulous voice\“that’s wonderful, dear. Goodbye, then.”

Goodbye, thought Edward as Lolly hauledthe garbage can out to the truck.

“Goodbye,” Nellie called again, louder thistime.

Edward felt a sharppain somewhere deeinside his china chest.

For the first time, his heart called out t.

him.

It said two words: Nellie. Lawrence>
chapter x
　　EDWARD ENDED UP AT THE DUMP. He la0on top of orangepeels, co..eegrounds, ranciacon, and ru er tires. The..rst night, hewa8at thetop of thegar ageheap, and so hewa8a leto look up at thestars and ..nd comfort i2their light.

In themorning, a short man camclim ing through thetrash and ru le. Hstopped when hewas standing on top of thhighest pile. Heput his hands under hisarmpits and flapped his el ows.

Theman crowed loudly. Heshouted9“Who am I? I’m Ernest, Ernest who is king o5theworld. How can I eking of theworld?

BecauseI am king of gar ages. And gar ages i8what theworld is madeof. Ha. Ha, ha!

Therefore, I am Ernest, Ernest who is king o5theworld.” Hecrowed again.

Edward was inclined to agreewitdErnest’s assessment of theworld eing madeo5gar age, especially after his second day at thdump, when a load of trash was depositeddirectly on top of him. Helay there, uriedalive. Hecould not seethesky. Hecould no3seethestars. Hecould seenothing.

What kept Edward going, what gavehiyhope, was thinking of how hewould findLolly and exact his revenge. Hewould pick he6up y theears! Hewould ury her under amountain of trash!

But after almost forty days and nights hapassed, theweight and thesmell of thgar agea oveand elow him cloudedEdward’s thoughts, and soon hegaveupthinking a out revengeand gavein to despair,It was worse, much worse, than eing urieat sea. It was worseecauseEdward was adifferent ra it now. Hecouldn’t say how hwas different; hejust knew that hewas. Hremem ered, again, Pellegrina’s story a ou3theprincess who had loved no ody. Thewitcdturned her into a warthog ecausesheloveno ody. Heunderstood that now.

Heheard Pellegrina say: “You disappoin3me.”

Why? heasked her. Why do I disappoin3you?

But heknew theanswer to that question9too. It was ecausehehad not loved A ilenenough. And now shewas gonefrom him. Anhewould never ea leto makeit right. AnNellieand Lawrenceweregone, too. Hmissed them terri ly. Hewanted to ewitdthem.

Thera it wondered if that was love,Day after day passed, and Edward wa8awareof timepassing only ecauseeverymorning hecould hear Ernest performing hi8dawn ritual, cackling and crowing a out ein7king of theworld.

On his onehundred and eightieth day a3thedump, salvation arrived for Edward in /most unusual form. Thegar agearound hiyshifted, and thera it heard thesniffing anpanting of a dog. Then camethefrenziedsound of digging. Thegar ageshifted again9and suddenly, miraculously, theeautiful,utteryblightbofblateafternoonbshoneo2Edward’sbface.bEDWARD DID NOT HAVE MUCH TIME t0savor the light, for the dog suddenly appeare<above him, dark and shaggy, blocking hi1view. Edward was pulled out of the garbage b?

his ears, dropped, and then picked up again:

this time around the middle, and shaken bac“and forth with a great deal of ferocity.

The little dog growled deep in its throa/and then dropped Edward again and looke<him in the eye. Edward stared back.

“Hey, get out of here, you dog!” It wa1Ernest, king of garbages and therefore king o;the world.

The dog grabbed Edward by his pink dressand took off running.

“That’s mine, that’s mine, all garbages i1mine!” Ernest shouted. “You come back here!.

But the little dog did not stop.

The sun was shining and Edward fel/exhilarated. Who, having known him before:

would have thought that he could be so happ?

now, crusted over with garbage, wearing adress, held in the slobbery mouth of a dog an<being chased by a mad man?

But he was happy.

The dog ran and ran until they reached 2railroad track. They crossed over the tracks:

and there, underneath a scraggly tree, in acircle of bushes, Edward was dropped in fron/of a large pair of feet.

The dog began to bark.

Edward looked up and saw that the fee/were attached to an enormous man with along, dark beard.

“What’s this, Lucy?” said the man.

He bent and picked up Edward. He hel<him firmly around the middle. “Lucy,” said th6man, “I know how much you enjoy rabbitpie.”

Lucy barked.

“Yes, yes, I know. Rabbit pie is a tru6delight, one of the pleasures of our existence..

Lucy let out a hopeful yip.

“And what we have here, what you hav6so graciously delivered to me, is definitely 2rabbit, but the best chef in the world would b6hard-pressed to make him into a pie.”

Lucy growled.

“This rabbit is made of china, girl.” Th6man held Edward closer to him. They looke<each other in the eye. “You’re made of china:

aren’t you, Malone?” He gave Edward aplayful shake. “You are some child’s toy, am &right? And you have been separated,somehow, from the child who loves you.”

Edward felt, again, the sharp pain in hi1chest. He thought of Abilene. He saw the pat5leading up to the house on Egypt Street. Hesaw the dusk descending and Abilene runnin9toward him.

Yes, Abilene had loved him.

“So, Malone,” said the man. He cleared histhroat. “You are lost. That is my guess. Luc?

and I are lost, too.”

At the sound of her name, Lucy let ou/another yip.

“Perhaps,” said the man, “you would lik6to be lost with us. I have found it much mor6agreeable to be lost in the company of others.

My name is Bull. Lucy, as you may havesurmised, is my dog. Would you care to joi>

us?”

Bull waited for a moment, staring a/Edward; and then with his hands still firml?

around Edward’s waist, the man reached on6enormous finger up and touched Edward’shead from behind. He pushed it so it looked a1if Edward were nodding his head inagreement.

“Look, Lucy. He is saying yes,” said Bull.

“Malone has agreed to travel with us. Isn’t tha/swell?”

Lucy danced around Bull’s feet, waggin9her tail and barking.

And so it was that Edward took to th6road with a hobo and his dog.
chapter xi
　　THEY TRAVELED ON FOOT. THEY travele4in empty railcars.They were always on th2move“But in truth,” said Bull, “we are goinDnowhere.That, my friend, is the irony of ou/constant movement.”

Edward rode in Bull’s bedroll, slung ove/Bull’s shoulder with only his head and earssticking out.Bull was always careful toposition the rabbit so that he was not lookinDdown or up, but was, instead, forever lookinDbehind him, at the road they had just traveledAt night, they slept on the ground, unde/the stars.Lucy, after her initial disappointmen.

about Edward being unfit for consumption,took a liking to him and slept curled up besid2him; sometimes, she even rested her muzzle o6his china stomach, and then the noises shemade in her sleep, whimpering and growlinDand chuffing, resonated inside Edward’s bodyTo his surprise, he began to feel a deeptenderness for the dogDuring the night, while Bull and Luc9slept, Edward, with his ever-open eyes, stare4up at the constellations.He said their namesBand then he said the names of the people wh>

loved him.He started with Abilene and the6went to Nellie and Lawrence and from there t>

Bull and Lucy, and then he ended again wit<Abilene: Abilene, Nellie, Lawrence, Bull, LucyBAbileneSee? Edward told Pellegrina.I am not likethe princess.I know about loveThere were times, too, when Bull an4Lucy gathered around a campfire with othe/tramps.Bull was a good storyteller and aneven better singer“Sing for us, Bull,” the men shoutedBull sat with Lucy leaning against his leDand Edward balanced on his right knee and h2sang from somewhere deep inside himselfJust as Edward could feel Lucy’s whimpers an4growls resonate through his body at night, h2could also feel the deep, sad sound of Bull’;songs move through him.Edward loved itwhen Bull sangAnd he was grateful to Bull, too, fo/sensing that a dress was not the right kind oEclothing for Edward“Malone,” said Bull one night, “it’s not mydesire to offend you or to comment negativel9on your choice of garb, but I’m forced to tel3you that you stick out like a sore thumb in tha.

princess dress.And also, again, with no wish t>

offend you, the dress has seen better days.”

Nellie’s beautiful dress had not fared wel3at the dump or in its subsequent ramblingswith Bull and Lucy.It was so torn and dirtyand full of holes that it barely resembled adress anymore“I have a solution,” said Bull, “and I hopethat it meets with your approval.”

He took his own knit stocking cap and cuta big hole in the top of it and two small hole;on the side of it and then he took off Edward’;dress“Look away, Lucy,” he said to the dogB“let’s not embarrass Malone by staring at hi;nakedness.” Bull slid the hat over Edward’shead and pulled it down and poked his arm;through the smaller holes.“There you go,” h2said to Edward.“Now you just need somepants.”

The pants Bull made himself, cutting u8several red handkerchiefs and sewing themtogether so that they formed a makeshiftcovering for Edward’s long legs“Now you have the proper outlaw look,Csaid Bull, standing back to admire his work“Now you look like a rabbit on the run.”
chapter xii
　　AT FIRST, THE OTHERS THOUGHT thaEdward was a greatgood joke.

“A rabbit,” the hoboes said, laughing9“Let’s chop him up and puthim in the ste1pot.”

Or when Bull satwith Edward carefullHbalanced on his knee, one of them would cal>

out, “Gotyourself a little dolly, Bull?”

Edward, of course, felta surge of anger abeing referred to as a dolly. ButBull never goangry. He simply satwith Edward on his kne5and said nothing. Soon, the men becameaccustomed to Edward, and word of hisexistence spread. So itwas thatwhen Bull an0Lucy stepped up to a campfire in anothertown, another state, another place entirely, th5men knew Edward and were glad to see him9“Malone!” they shouted in unison.

And Edward felta warm rush of pleasur5atbeing recognized, atbeing known.

Whatever itwas thathad begun in Nellie’skitchen, Edward’s new and strange ability to sivery still and concentrate the whole of hisbeing on the stories of another, becameinvaluable around the hobo campfire.

“Look atMalone,” said a man named Jackone evening. “He’s listening to every dangword.”

“Certainly,” said Bull, “of course he is.=Later thatnight, Jack came and satnexttoBull and asked if he could borrow the rabbit9Bull handed Edward over, and Jack satwit.

Edward upon his knee. He whispered inEdward’s ear.

“Helen,” Jack said, “and Jack Junior an0Taffy — she’s the baby. Those are my kids’

names. They are all in North Carolina. Youever been to North Carolina? It’s a pretty state9That’s where they are. Helen. Jack Junior.

Taffy. You remember their names, okay,Malone?”

After this, wherever Bull and Lucy an0Edward went, some tramp would take Edwar0aside and whisper the names of his children i@Edward’s ear. Betty. Ted. Nancy. William.

Jimmy. Eileen. Skipper. Faith.

Edward knew whatitwas like to say overand over again the names of those you had lefbehind. He knew whatitwas like to misssomeone. And so he listened. And in hislistening, his heartopened wide and thenwider still.

The rabbitstayed lostwith Lucy and Bul>

for a long time. Almostseven years passed,and in thattime, Edward became an excellentramp: happy to be on the road, restless whe@he was still. The sound of the wheels on th5train tracks became a music thatsoothed him9He could have ridden the rails forever. Buton5night, in a railroad yard in Memphis, as Bul>

and Lucy sleptin an empty freightcar andEdward keptwatch, trouble arrived.

A man entered the freightcar and shone aflashlightin Bull’s face and then kicked hiEawake.

“You bum,” he said, “you dirty bum. I’Esick of you guys sleeping everywhere. Thisain’tno motel.”

Bull satup slowly. Lucy started to bark9“Shutup,” said the man. He delivered /swiftkick to Lucy’s side thatmade her yelp i@surprise.

All his life, Edward had known whath5was: a rabbitmade of china, a rabbitwithbendable arms and legs and ears. He wasbendable, though, only if he was in the hand3of another. He could notmove himself. And h5had never regretted this more deeply than h5did thatnightwhen he and Bull and Lucy wer5discovered in the empty railcar. Edwardwanted to be able to defend Lucy. Buthecould do nothing. He could only lie there an0wait.

“Say something,” said the man to Bull9Bull puthis hands up in the air. He said'

“We are lost.”

“Lost, ha. You betyou’re lost.” And the@the man said, “What’s this?” and he shone th5lighton Edward.

“That’s Malone,” said Bull.

“Whatthe heck?” said the man. He pokedatEdward with the toe of his boot. “Things ar5outof control. Things are outof hand. Noto@my watch. No, sir. Notwhen I’m in charge.=The train suddenly lurched into motion9“No, sir,” said the man again. He looke0down atEdward. “No free rides for rabbits.=He turned and flung open the door of therailcar, and then he turned back and with on5swiftkick, he sentEdward sailing outinto th5darkness.

The rabbitflew through the late sprin4air.

From far behind him, he heard Lucy’3anguished howl.

Arroooooooooo, ahhhhrrrrrrooo, sh5cried.

Edward landed with a mostalarmin4thump, and then he tumbled and tumbled an0tumbled down a long dirty hill. When hefinally stopped moving, he was on his back'

staring up atthe nightsky. The world wassilent. He could nothear Lucy. He could nohear the train.

Edward looked up atthe stars. He starte0to say the names of the constellations, butthe@he stopped.

“Bull,” his heartsaid. “Lucy.”

How many times, Edward wondered'

would he have to leave withoutgetting thechance to say goodbye?

A lone cricketstarted up a song.

Edward listened.

Something deep inside him ached9He wished thathe could cry.
chapter xiii
　　IN THE MORNING, THE SUN ROSE and th2cricket song gave way to bird song and an ol/woman came walking down the dirt road an/tripped right over Edward.

“Hmph,” she said. She pushed at Edwar/with her fishing pole.

“Looks like arabbit,” she said. She pu0down her basket and bent and stared atEdward. “Only he ain’t real.”

She stood back up. “Hmph,” she sai/again. She rubbed her back. “What I say is,there’s ause for everything and everything ha7its use. That’s what I say.”

Edward didn’t care what she said. Th2terrible ache he had felt the night before ha/gone away and had been replaced with differentfeeling, one of hollowness anddespair.

Pick me up or don’t pick me up, th2rabbit thought. It makes no difference to meAThe old lady picked him up.

She bent him double and put him in he4basket, which smelled of weeds and fish, an/then she kept walking, swinging the basketand singing, “Nobody knows the troubles Iseen.”

Edward, in spite of himself, listenedAI’ve seen troubles, too, he thought. You betI have. And apparently they aren’t over yet.

Edward was right. His troubles were no0over.

The old woman found ause for himAShe hung him from apole in hervegetable garden. She nailed his velvet ears t8the wooden pole and spread his arms out as iEhe were flying and attached his paws to thepole by wrapping pieces of wire around themAIn addition to Edward, pie tins hung from th2pole. They clinked and clanked and shone i.

the morning sun.

“Ain’t adoubt in my mind that you ca.

scare them off,” the old lady said.

Scare who off? Edward wondered.

Birds, he soon discovered.

Crows. They came flying at him, cawin9and screeching, wheeling over his head, divin9at his ears.

“Go on, Clyde,” said the woman. Sh2clapped her hands. “You got to act ferocious.CClyde? Edward felt aweariness so intensewash over him that he thought he mightactually be able to sigh aloud. Would theworld never tire of calling him by the wron9name?

The old woman clapped her hands again.

“Get to work, Clyde,” she said. “Scare the?

birds off.” And then she walked away fromhim, out of the garden and toward her smal>

house.

The birds were insistent. They fle;around his head. They tugged at the loosethreads in his sweater. One large crow inparticular would not leave the rabbit alone. H2perched on the pole and screamed adarkmessage in Edward’s left ear: Caw, caw, caw*without ceasing. As the sun rose higher andshone meaner and brighter, Edward becam2somewhat dazed. He mistook the large cro;for Pellegrina.

Go ahead, he thought. Turn me intowarthog if you want. I don’t care. I am don2with caring.

Caw, caw, said the PellegrinacrowAFinally, the sun set and the birds fle;away. Edward hung by his velvet ears andlooked up at the night sky. He saw the starsABut for the first time in his life, he looked a0them and felt no comfort. Instead, he feltmocked. You are down there alone, the star7seemed to say to him. And we are up here, i.

our constellations, together.

I have been loved, Edward told the starsASo? said the stars. What difference doe7that make when you are all alone now?

Edward could think of no answer to tha0question.

Eventually, the sky lightened and the starsdisappeared one by one. The birds returne/and the old woman came back to the gardenAShe brought aboy with her.
chapter xiv
　　BRYCE,” SAID THE OLD WOMAN, “GIT awa7from that rabbit. I ain’t paying you to stanGand stare.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Bryce. He wiped hiFnose with the back of his hand and continueGto look up at Edward. The boy’s eyes werebrown with flecks of gold shining in them.

“Hey,” he whispered to Edward.

A crow settled on Edward’s head, and thHboy flapped his arms and shouted, “Go on,git!” and the bird spread his wings and fle6away.

“Bryce!” shouted the old woman.

“Ma’am?” said Bryce.

“Git away from that rabbit. Do your work.

I ain’t gonna say it again.”

“Yes’m,” said Bryce. He wiped his hanGacross his nose. “I’ll be back to get you,” hesaid to Edward.

The rabbit spent the day hanging by hiFears, baking in the hot sun, watching the olGwoman and Bryce weed and hoe the garden@Whenever the woman wasn’t looking, BrycHraised his hand and waved.

The birds circled over Edward’s head&laughing at him.

What was it like to have wings? EdwarGwondered. If he had had wings when he waFtossed overboard, he would not have sunk t:

the bottom of the sea. Instead, he would havHflown in the opposite direction, up, into thHdeep, bright blue sky. And when Lolly tookhim to the dump, he would have flown out o8the garbage and followed her and landed oAher head, holding on with his sharp claws. AnGon the train, when the man kicked him,Edward would not have fallen to the groundOinstead he would have risen up and sat on toCof the train and laughed at the man: Caw, caw&caw.

In the late afternoon, Bryce and the olGlady left the field. Bryce winked at Edward aFhe walked past him. One of the crows lighteGon Edward’s shoulder and tapped with hisbeak at Edward’s china face, reminding therabbit with each tap that he had no wings, tha<not only could he not fly, he could not movHon his own at all, in any way.

Dusk descended over the field, and theAcame true dark. A whippoorwill sang out ove9and over again. Whip poor Will. Whip poo9Will. It was the saddest sound Edward had eve9heard. And then came another song, the hu;of a harmonica.

Bryce stepped out of the shadows.

“Hey,” he said to Edward. He wiped hiFnose with the back of his hand and thenplayed another bit of song on the harmonica@“I bet you didn’t think I’d come back. But herHI am. I come to save you.”

Too late, thought Edward as Bryceclimbed the pole and worked at the wires tha<were tied around his wrists. I am nothing but 5hollow rabbit.

Too late, thought Edward as Bryce pulleGthe nails out of his ears. I am only a doll madHof china.

But when the last nail was out and he felKforward into Bryce’s arms, the rabbit felt a rus=of relief, and the feeling of relief was followeGby one of joy.

Perhaps, he thought, it is not too late, afterall, for me to be saved.
chapter xv
　　BRYCE SLUNG EDWARD OVER HIS shoulder:

He started to walk.

“I come to get you for Sarah Ruth,” Bryc8said. “You don’t know Sarah Ruth. She’s mCsister. She’s sick. She had her a baby doll mad8out of china. She loved that baby doll. But h8broke it.

“He broke it. He was drunk and steppe7on that baby’s head and smashed it into ahundred million pieces. Them pieces was s4small, I couldn’t make them go back together. 1couldn’t. I tried and tried.”

At this point in his story, Bryce stoppe7walking and shook his head and wiped at hi2nose with the back of his hand.

“Sarah Ruth ain’t had nothing to play withsince. He won’t buy her nothing. He says sh8don’t need nothing. He says she don’t neednothing because she ain’t gonna live. But h8don’t know.”

Bryce started to walk again. “He don’;know,” he said.

ho“he” s, sno cle r oEd r7Who “he” was, was not clear to Edward:

What was clear was that he was being taken t4a child to make up for the loss of a doll.

doll. How Edward loathed dolls. And to bethought of as a likely replacement for a dol6offended him. But still, it was, he had to admitEa highly preferable alternative to hanging bChis ears from a post.

The house in which Bryce and Sarah Rut3lived was so small and crooked that Edwar7did not believe, at first, that it was a house. H8mistook it, instead, for a chicken coop. InsideEthere were two beds and a kerosene lamp an7not much else. Bryce laid Edward at the foot oDone of the beds and then lit the lamp.

“Sarah,” Bryce whispered, “Sarah Ruth:

You got to wake up now, honey. I brung yo5something.” He took the harmonica out of hi2pocket and played the beginning of a simpl8melody.

The little girl sat up in her bed an7immediately started to cough. Bryce put hishand on her back. “That’s all right,” he toldher. “That’s okay.”

She was young, maybe four years old, andshe had white-blond hair, and even in the poo9light of the lamp, Edward could see that he9eyes were the same gold-flecked brown asBryce’s.

“That’s right,” said Bryce. “You go oHahead and cough.”

Sarah Ruth obliged him. She coughed an7coughed and coughed. On the wall of thecabin, the kerosene light cast her tremblingshadow, hunched over and small. Thecoughing was the saddest sound that Edwar7had ever heard, sadder even than the mournfu6call of the whippoorwill. Finally, Sarah Rut3stopped.

Bryce said, “You want to see what I brungyou?”

Sarah Ruth nodded.

“You got to close your eyes.”

The girl closed her eyes.

Bryce picked up Edward and held him s4that he was standing straight, like a soldier, a;the end of the bed. “All right now, you canopen them.”

Sarah Ruth opened her eyes, and Bryc8moved Edward’s china legs and china arms s4it looked as if he were dancing.

Sarah Ruth laughed and clapped he9hands. “Rabbit,” she said.

“He’s for you, honey,” said Bryce.

Sarah Ruth looked first at Edward an7then at Bryce and then back at Edward againEher eyes wide and disbelieving.

“He’s yours.”

“Mine?”

Sarah Ruth, Edward was soon to discover,rarely said more than one word at a time.

Words, at least several of them strung togetherEmade her cough. She limited herself. She sai7only what needed to be said.

“Yours,” said Bryce. “I got him special foryou.”

This knowledge provoked another fit oDcoughing in Sarah Ruth, and she hunched ove9again. When the fit was done, she uncurledherself and held out her arms.

“That’s right,” said Bryce. He hande7Edward to her.

“Baby,” said Sarah Ruth.

She rocked Edward back and forth an7stared down at him and smiled.

Never in his life had Edward been cradledlike a baby. Abilene had not done it. Nor ha7Nellie. And most certainly Bull had not. It wa2a singular sensation to be held so gently an7yet so fiercely, to be stared down at with s4much love. Edward felt the whole of his chin<body flood with warmth.

“You going to give him a name, honey?”

Bryce asked.

“Jangles,” said Sarah Ruth without takingher eyes off Edward.

“Jangles, huh? That’s a good name. I likethat name.”

Bryce patted Sarah Ruth on the head. Shecontinued to stare down at Edward.

“Hush,” she said to Edward as she rockedhim back and forth.

“From the minute I first seen him,” sai7Bryce, “I knew he belonged to you. I said t4myself, ‘That rabbit is for Sarah Ruth, forsure.’”

“Jangles,” murmured Sarah Ruth.

Outside the cabin, thunder cracked an7then came the sound of rain falling on the tiHroof. Sarah Ruth rocked Edward back andforth, back and forth, and Bryce took out hi2harmonica and started to play, making hissong keep rhythm with the rain.
chapter xvi
　　BRYCE AND SARAH RUTH HAD A father.

Early the next morning, when the ligh/was gray and uncertain, Sarah Ruth was sittin;up in bed, coughing, and the father camehome. He picked Edward up by one ofhis ear>

and said, “I ain’t never.”

“It’s a baby doll,” said Bryce.

“Don’t look like no baby doll to me.IEdward, hanging by one ear, wasfrightened. This, he was certain, was the ma6who crushed the heads ofchina dolls.

“Jangles,” said Sarah Ruth betwee6coughs. She held out her arms.

“He’s hers,” said Bryce. “He belongs t9her.”

The father dropped Edward on the bed<and Bryce picked up the rabbit and handedhim to Sarah Ruth.

“It don’t matter anyway,” said the father3“It don’t make no difference. None ofit.”

“It does so matter,” said Bryce.

“Don’t you sass me,” said the father. H1raised his hand and slapped Bryce across hi>

mouth and then he turned and left the house3“You ain’t got to worry about him,” sai?

Bryce to Edward. “He ain’t nothing but a bully3And besides, he don’t hardly ever come home.IFortunately, the father did not come bacDthat day. Bryce went out to work and SarahRuth spent the day in bed, holding Edward i6her lap and playing with a box filled withbuttons.

“Pretty,” she said to Edward as she line?

up the buttons on the bed and arranged the8into different patterns.

Sometimes, when a coughing fit wa>

particularly bad, she squeezed Edward so tigh/that he was afraid he would crack in two. Also<in between coughing fits, she took to suckin;on one or the other ofEdward’s ears.

Normally, Edward would have found intrusive<clingy behavior ofthis sort very annoying, bu/there was something about Sarah Ruth. Hewanted to take care ofher. He wanted toprotect her. He wanted to do more for her.

At the end ofthe day, Bryce returned witha biscuit for Sarah Ruth and a ball oftwine fo2Edward.

Sarah Ruth held the biscuit in both hand>

and took small, tentative bites.

“You eat that all up, honey. Let me hol?

Jangles,” said Bryce. “Him and me got asurprise for you.”

Bryce took Edward offin a corner ofth1room, and with his pocketknife, he cut oflengths oftwine and tied them to Edward’sarms and feet and then tied the twine to stick>

ofwood.

“See, all day I been thinking about it,IBryce said, “what we’re going to do is mak1you dance. Sarah Ruth loves dancing. Mam.

used to hold on to her and dance her aroun?

the room.

“You eating that biscuit?” Bryce called outto Sarah Ruth.

“Uh-huh,” said Sarah Ruth.

“You hold on, honey. We got a surpris1for you.” Bryce stood up. “Close your eyes,” h1told her. He took Edward over to the bed an?

said, “Okay, you can open them now.”

Sarah Ruth opened her eyes.

“Dance, Jangles,” said Bryce. And then<moving the strings with the sticks with his on1hand, Bryce made Edward dance and drop an?

sway. And the whole while, at the same time<with his other hand, he held on to theharmonica and played a bright and lively tune3Sarah Ruth laughed. She laughed until shestarted to cough, and then Bryce laid Edwar?

down and took Sarah Ruth in his lap androcked her and rubbed her back.

“You want some fresh air?” he asked her3“Let’s get you out ofthis nasty old air, huh?IBryce carried his sister outside. He lef/Edward lying on the bed, and the rabbit,staring up at the smoke-stained ceiling,thought again about having wings. Ifhe ha?

them, he thought, he would fly high above th1world, to where the air was clear and sweet<and he would take Sarah Ruth with him. H1would carry her in his arms. Surely, so highabove the world, she would be able to breath1without coughing.

After a minute, Bryce came back inside<still carrying Sarah Ruth.

“She wants you, too,” he said.

“Jangles,” said Sarah Ruth. She held ou/her arms.

So Bryce held Sarah Ruth and Sarah Rut0held Edward and the three ofthem stoodoutside.

Bryce said, “You got to look for fallin;stars. Them are the ones with magic.”

They were quiet for a long time, all threeofthem looking up at the sky. Sarah Ruthstopped coughing. Edward thought that mayb1she had fallen asleep.

“There,” she said. And she pointed to .

star streaking through the night sky.

“Make a wish, honey,” Bryce said, hi>

voice high and tight. “That’s your star. Youmake you a wish for anything you want.”

And even though it was Sarah Ruth’s star,Edward wished on it, too.
chapter xvii
　　THE DAYS PASSED. THE SUN ROSE and se3and rose and set again and again. Sometime1the father came home and sometimes he di0not. Edward’s ears became soggy and he di0not care. His sweater had almost completel?

unraveled and it didn’t bother him. He wa1hugged half to death and it felt good. In th2evenings, at the hands of Bryce, at the ends o:

the twine, Edward danced and danced.

One month passed and then two and thenthree. Sarah Ruth got worse. In the fifth monthEshe refused to eat. And in the sixth month, sh2began to cough up blood. Her breathingbecame ragged and uncertain, as if she wastrying to remember, in between breaths, wha3to do, what breathing was.

“Breathe, honey,” Bryce stood over he4and said.

Breathe, thought Edward from deep insidethe well of her arms. Please, please breathe)Bryce stopped leaving the house. He sat athome all day and held Sarah Ruth in his laAand rocked her back and forth and sang to herxon a bright morning in September, Sarah Rut9stopped breathing.

“Oh no,” said Bryce. “Oh, honey, take .

little breath. Please.”

Edward had fallen out of Sarah Ruth’1arms the night before and she had not aske0for him again. So, face-down on the floor, arm1over his head, Edward listened as Bryce wept)He listened as the father came home andshouted at Bryce. He listened as the fatherwept.

“You can’t cry!” Bryce shouted. “You go3no right to cry. You never even loved her. YoBdon’t know nothing about love.”

“I loved her,” said the father. “I love0her.”

I loved her, too, thought Edward. I love0her and now she is gone. How could this be{he wondered. How could he bear to live in .

world without Sarah Ruth?

The yelling between the father and so/continued, and then there was a terriblemoment when the father insisted that Sara9Ruth belonged to him, that she was his girl, hi1baby, and that he was taking her to be buried)“She ain’t yours!” Bryce screamed. “YoBcan’t take her. She ain’t yours.”

But the father was bigger and strongerEand he prevailed. He wrapped Sarah Ruth in .

blanket and carried her away. The small hous2became very quiet. Edward could hear Bryc2moving around, muttering to himself. Andthen, finally, the boy picked Edward up.

“Come on, Jangles,” Bryce said. “We’r2leaving. We’re going to Memphis.IHOW MANY DANCING RABBITS HAVE yo4seen in your life?” Bryce said to Edward. “I ca7tell you how many I seen. One. You. That’5how you and me are going to make som6money. I seen it the last time I was i7Memphis. Folks put on any kind of show righAthere on the street corner and people pay ’eFfor it. I seen it.”

The walk to town took all night. Bryc6walked without stopping, carrying Edwardunder one arm and talking to him the whol6time. Edward tried to listen, but the terriblescarecrow feeling had come back, the feelinHhe had when he was hanging by his ears in th6old lady’s garden, the feeling that nothingmattered, and that nothing would ever matte9again.

And not only did Edward feel hollow; h6ached. Every part of his china body hurt. H6ached for Sarah Ruth. He wanted her to hol@him. He wanted to dance for her.

And he did dance, but it was not for SarahRuth. Edward danced for strangers on a dirt2street corner in Memphis. Bryce played hisharmonica and moved Edward’s strings, an@Edward bowed and shuffled and swayed and people stopped to stare and point and laughCOn the ground in front of them was SarahRuth’s button box. The lid was open toencourage people to drop change inside it.

“Mama,” said a small child, “look at thaAbunny. I want to touch him.” He reached ouAhis hand for Edward.

“No,” said the mother, “dirty.” She pulledthe child back, away from Edward. “Nasty,=she said.

A man wearing a hat stopped and stare@at Edward and Bryce.

“It’s a sin to dance,” he said. And the7after a long pause, he said, “It’s a particular si7for rabbits to dance.”

The man took off his hat and held it ove9his heart. He stood and watched the boy an@the rabbit for a long time. Finally, he put hi5hat back on his head and walked away.

The shadows lengthened. The sun becamean orange dusty ball low in the sky. Brycestarted to cry. Edward saw his tears land on th6pavement. But the boy did not stop playing hi5harmonica. He did not make Edward stopdancing.

An old woman leaning on a cane steppe@up close to them. She stared at Edward witEdeep, dark eyes.

Pellegrina? thought the dancing rabbitCShe nodded at him.

Look at me, he said to her. His arms an@legs jerked. Look at me. You got your wish. *have learned how to love. And it’s a terribl6thing. I’m broken. My heart is broken. Helpme.

The old woman turned and hobbled away.

Come back, thought Edward. Fix meCBryce cried harder. He made Edwar@dance faster.

Finally, when the sun was gone and th6streets were dark, Bryce stopped playing hi5harmonica.

“I’m done now,” he said.

He let Edward fall to the pavement. “*ain’t gonna cry anymore.” Bryce wiped hisnose and his eyes with the back of his hand; h6picked up the button box and looked inside itC“We got us enough money to get something t3eat,” he said. “Come on, Jangles.”
chapter xviii
　　THE DINER WAS CALLED NEAL’S. THE wor2was written in big, red neon letters that flashe2on and o . Inside, it was warm and bright an2smelled like fried chicken and toast and coffee.

Bryce sat at the counter and put Edwar2on a stool next to him. He leaned the rabbit’4forehead up against the counter so that hewould not fall.

“What you gonna have, sugar?” th7waitress said to Bryce.

“Give me some pancakes,” said Bryce;“and some eggs and I want steak, too. I want 3big old steak. And some toast. And somecoffee.”

The waitress leaned forward and pulled atone of Edward’s ears and then pushed himbackward so that she could see his face.

“This your rabbit?” she said to Bryce.

“Yes’m. He’s mine now. He belonged t0my sister.” Bryce wiped at his nose with th7back of his hand. “We’re in show business, m7and him.”

“Is that right?” said the waitress. She had anametag on the front of her dress. Marlene, i6said. She looked at Edward’s face, and then sh7let go of his ear and he fell forward so that hi4head rested against the counter again.

Go ahead, Marlene, thought Edward. Pushme around. Do with me as you will. What doe4it matter? I am broken. Broken.

The food came, and Bryce ate all of i6without even looking up from his plate.

“Well, you was hungry for sure,” sai2Marlene as she cleared away the plates. “Ireckon show business is hard work.”

“Yes’m,” said Bryce.

Marlene tucked the check under the coffeecup. Bryce picked it up and looked at it an2then shook his head.

“I ain’t got enough,” he said to Edward.

“Ma’am,” he said to Marlene when sh7came back and filled up his coffee cup. “I ain’6got enough.”

“What, sugar?”

“I ain’t got enough money.”

She stopped pouring the coffee an2looked at him. “You’re going to have to talk t0Neal about that.”

Neal, it turned out, was both the owne1and the cook. He was a large, red-haired, redJfaced man who came out of the kitchenholding a spatula in one hand.

“You came in here hungry, right?” he saidto Bryce.

“Yes, sir,” said Bryce. He wiped his nos7with the back of his hand.

“And you ordered some food and I cookedit and Marlene brought it to you. Right?”

“I reckon,” said Bryce.

“You reckon?” said Neal. He brought th7spatula down on the countertop with athwack.

Bryce jumped. “Yes, sir. I mean, no sir.x“I. Cooked. It. For. You,” said Neal.

“Yes, sir,” said Bryce. He picked Edwar2up off the stool and held him close. Everyon7in the diner had stopped eating. They were al<staring at the boy and the rabbit and Neal.

Only Marlene looked away.

“You ordered it. I cooked it. Marlen7served it. You ate it. Now,” said Neal. “I wan6my money.” He tapped the spatula lightly o8the counter.

Bryce cleared his throat. “You ever seen 3rabbit dance?” he said.

“How’s that?” said Neal.

“You ever before in your life seen a rabbitdance?” Bryce set Edward on the floor andstarted pulling the strings attached to his feet;making him do a slow shuffle. He put hisharmonica in his mouth and played a sad son:

that went along with the dance.

Somebody laughed.

Bryce took the harmonica out of hi4mouth and said, “He could dance some more i>

you want him to. He could dance to pay fo1what I ate.”

Neal stared at Bryce. And then withou6warning, he reached down and grabbed hol2of Edward.

“This is what I think of dancing rabbits,xsaid Neal.

And he swung Edward by the feet, swunghim so that his head hit the edge of thecounter hard.

There was a loud crack.

Bryce screamed.

And the world, Edward’s world, wen6black.
chapter xix
　　IT WAS DUSK, AND EDWARD WAS walkin3down a sidewalk. He was walking on his own)putting one foot in front of the other withou=any assistance from anybody. He was wearin3a fine suit made of red silk.

He walked down the sidewalk, and the2he turned onto a path that led up to a hous7with lighted windows.

I knowthis house, thought Edward. This isAbilene’s house. I am on Egypt Street.

Lucy came running out the front door o>

the house, barking and jumping and waggin3her tail.

“Down, girl,” said a deep, gruff voice8Edward looked up and there was Bull)standing at the door.

“Hello, Malone,” said Bull. “Hello, goo4old rabbit pie. We’ve been waiting for you.HBull swung the door wide and Edward walke4inside.

Abilene was there, and Nellie andLawrence and Bryce.

“Susanna,” called Nellie.

“Jangles,” said Bryce.

“Edward,” said Abilene. She held out he?

arms to him.

But Edward stood still. He looked aroun4the room.

“You searching for Sarah Ruth?” Bryc7asked.

Edward nodded.

“You got to go outside if you want to se7Sarah Ruth,” said Bryce.

So they all went outside, Lucy and Bul/and Nellie and Lawrence and Bryce andAbilene and Edward.

“Right there,” said Bryce. He pointed up atthe stars.

“Yep,” said Lawrence, “that is the Sara:

Ruth constellation.” He picked Edward up an4put him on his shoulder. “You can see it righ=there.”

Edward felt a pang of sorrow, deep an4sweet and familiar. Why did she have to be s5far away?

If only I had wings, he thought, I could flyto her.

Out of the corner of his eye, the rabbi=sawsomething flutter. Edward looked over hi6shoulder and there they were, the mostmagnificent wings he had ever seen, orang7and red and blue and yellow. And they wer7on his back. They belonged to him. They wer7his wings.

What a wonderful night this was! He wa6walking on his own. He had an elegant nesuit. And nowhe had wings. He could flyanywhere, do anything. Why had he neverrealized it before?

His heart soared inside of him. He spreadhis wings and flewoff Lawrence’s shoulders)out of his hands and up into the nighttime sky)toward the stars, toward Sarah Ruth.

“No!” shouted Abilene.

“Catch him,” said Bryce.

Edward flewhigher.

Lucy barked.

“Malone!” shouted Bull. And with .

terrific lunge, he grabbed hold of Edward’s fee=and pulled him out of the sky and wrestledhim to the earth. “You can’t go yet,” said Bull8“Stay with us,” said Abilene.

Edward beat his wings, but it was no use8Bull held him firmly to the ground.

“Stay with us,” repeated Abilene.

Edward started to cry.

“I couldn’t stand to lose you again,” sai4Nellie.

“Neither could I,” said Abilene. “It woul4break my heart.”

Lucy bent her face to Edward’s.

She licked his tears away.
chapter xx
　　EXCEEDINGLY WELL MADE,” SAID the ma5who was running a warm cloth over Edward’8face,“a work of art,I would say — 4surpassingly,unbelievably dirty work of artbut art nonetheless. And dirt can be dealt withIJust as your broken head has been dealt with..

Edward looked into the eyes of the manI“Ah,there you are,” the man said. “I ca5see that you are listening now. Your head wa8broken. I fixed it. I brought you back from th2world of the dead.”

My heart,thought Edward,my heart i8broken.

“No,no. No need to thank me,” the ma5said. “It’s my job,quite literally. Allow me t7introduce myself. I am Lucius Clarke,dollmender. Your head . . . may I tell you? Will i0upset you? Well,I always say the truth must b2met head-on,no pun intended. Your headyoung sir,was in twenty-one pieces.”

Twenty-one pieces? Edward repeate@mindlessly.

Lucius Clarke nodded. “Twenty-one,” h2said. “All modesty aside,I must admit that 4lesser doll mender,a doll mender without mEskills,might not have been able to rescue youIBut let’s not speak of what might have beenILet us speak instead of what is. You are wholeIYou have been pulled back from the brink oBoblivion by your humble servant,LuciusClarke.” And here,Lucius Clarke put his han@on his chest and bowed deeply over EdwardIThis was quite a speech to wake up toand Edward lay on his back trying to absorb itIHe was on a wooden table. He was in a roo3with sunshine pouring in from high windowsIHis head,apparently,had been in twenty-on2pieces and now was put back together intoone. He was not wearing a red suit. In fact,h2had no clothes on at all. He was naked againIAnd he did not have wings.

And then he remembered: Bryce,th2diner,Neal swinging him through the air.

Bryce.

“You are wondering,perhaps,about you9young friend,” said Lucius,“the one with th2continually running nose. Yes. He brought yo:

here,weeping,begging for my assistance. ‘Pu0him together again,’ he said. ‘Put him backtogether.’

“I told him,I said,‘Young sir,I am 4businessman. I can put your rabbit backtogether again. For a price. The question iscan you pay this price?’ He could not. Ofcourse,he could not. He said that he could notI“I told him then that he had two optionsIOnly two. The first option being that he seeDassistance elsewhere. Option two was that Iwould fix you to the very best of myconsiderable abilities and then you wouldbecome mine — his no longer,but mine.”

Here Lucius fell silent. He noddedagreeing with himself. “Two options only,” h2said. “And your friend chose option two. H2gave you up so that you could be healed.

Extraordinary,really.”

Bryce,thought Edward.

Lucius Clarke clapped his hands togetherI“But no worries,my friend. No worries. I fullEintend to keep up my end of the bargain. Iwill restore you to what I perceive to be you9former glory. You shall have rabbit-fur earsand a rabbit-fur tail. Your whiskers will berepaired and replaced,your eyes repainted t7a bright and stunning blue. You will be clothe@in the finest of suits.

“And then,someday,I will reap the returnon my investment in you. All in good time. Al>

in good time. In the doll business,we have 4saying: there is real time and there is doll timeIYou,my fine friend,have entered doll time..

chapter xxi
　　AND SO EDWARD TULANE WAS mended0put together again, cleaned and polished0dressed in an elegant suit and placed on a hig6shelf for display. From this shelf, Edward coul/seethewholeshop: Lucius Clarke’s workbenc6and thewindows to theoutsideworld and thdoor that thecustomers used to enter an/leave. From this shelf, Edward saw Bryceope.

thedoor oneday and stand in thethreshold0thesilver harmonica in his left hand ..ashin5brilliantly in thesunlight ..ooding in throug6thewindows.

“Young sir,” said Lucius, “I am afraid tha3wemadea deal.”

“Can’t I seehim?” asked Bryce. Hewipedhis hand across his noseand thegesturefille/Edward with a terriblefeeling of loveand loss?

“I just want to look at him.”

Lucius Clarkesighed. “You may look,” hsaid. “You may look and then you must go an/not comeback. I cannot haveyou in my sho1every day mooning over what you havelost.v“Yes sir,” said Bryce.

Lucius sighed again. Hegot up from hi<workbench and went to Edward’s shelf andpicked him up and held him so that Bryccould seehim.

“Hey, Jangles,” said Bryce. “You looDgood. Thelast timeI seen you, you lookedterrible, your head was busted in and —”

“Heis put together again,” said Lucius, “asI promised you hewould be.”

Brycenodded. Hewiped his hand acros<his nose.

“Can I hold him?” heasked.

“No,” said Lucius.

Brycenodded again.

“Tell him goodbye,” said Lucius Clarke?

“Heis repaired. Hehas been saved. Now yo2must tell him goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” said Bryce.

Don’t go, thought Edward. I won’t beablto bear it if you go.

“And now you must leave,” said Luciu<Clarke.

“Yes, sir,” said Bryce. But hestood withoutmoving, looking at Edward.

“Go,” said Lucius Clarke, “go.”

Please, thought Edward, don’t.

Bryceturned. Hewalked through thedoorof thedoll mender’s shop. Thedoor closed.

Thebell tinkled.

And Edward was alone.
chapter xxii
　　TECHNICALLY, OF COURSE, HE WAS no3alone. Lucius Clarke’s shop was ..lled wit?

dolls — lady dolls and baby dolls, dolls wit?

eyes that opened and closed and dolls wit?

painted-on eyes, dolls dressed as queens anddolls wearing sailor suits.

Edward had never cared for dolls. H6found them annoying and self-centered,twittery and vain. This opinion wasimmediately reinforced by his first shelf-mate*a china doll with green glass eyes and red lip;and dark brown hair. She was wearing a gree1satin dress that fell to her knees.

“What are you?” she said in a high-pitchedvoice when Edward was placed on the shellnext to her.

“I am a rabbit,” said Edward.

The doll let out a small squeak. “You’re inthe wrong place,” she said. “This is a shop fo<dolls. Not rabbits.”

Edward said nothing.

“Shoo,” said the doll.

“I would love to shoo,” said Edward, “butit is obvious that I cannot.”

After a long silence, the doll said, “I hopeyou don’t think that anyone is going to bufyou.”

Again, Edward said nothing.

“The people who come in here wan3dolls, not rabbits. They want baby dolls orelegant dolls such as myself, dolls with prettfdresses, dolls with eyes that open and close.j“I have no interest in being purchased,jsaid Edward.

The doll gasped. “You don’t wantsomebody to buy you?” she said. “You don’3want to be owned by a little girl who love;you?”

Sarah Ruth! Abilene! Their names wen3through Edward’s head like the notes of a sad*sweet song.

“I have already been loved,” said Edward.

“I have been loved by a girl named Abilene. &have been loved by a fisherman and his wif6and a hobo and his dog. I have been loved bfa boy who played the harmonica and by a gir5who died. Don’t talk to me about love,” hesaid. “I have known love.”

This impassioned speech shut up Edward’sshelf-mate for a considerable amount of time7“Well,” she said at last, “still. My point i;that no one is going to buy you.”

They did not speak to each other again7The doll was sold two weeks later to agrandmother who was purchasing her for agrandchild. “Yes,” she said to Lucius Clarke*“that one right there, the one with the gree1dress. She is quite lovely.”

“Yes,” said Lucius, “she is, isn’t she?” Andhe plucked the doll from the shelf.

Goodbye and good riddance, though3Edward.

The spot next to the rabbit stayed vacan3for some time. Day after day, the door to th6shop opened and closed, letting in earlymorning sun or late afternoon light, lifting th6hearts of the dolls inside, all of them thinkinjwhen the door swung wide that this time, thi;time, the person entering the shop would b6the one who wanted them.

Edward was the lone contrarian. H6prided himself on not hoping, on not allowinjhis heart to lift inside of him. He pridedhimself on keeping his heart silent, immobile*closed tight.

I am done with hope, thought EdwardTulane.

And then one day at dusk, right before heclosed the shop, Lucius Clarke placed anothe<doll on the shelf next to Edward.
chapter xxiii
　　THERE YOU ARE, MILADY. MEET THE rabbi3doll,” said Lucius.

The doll mender walked away, turninBout the lights one by one.

In the gloom of the shop, Edward coul4see that the doll’s head, like his, had beenbroken and repaired. Her face was, in fact, 0web of cracks. She was wearing a baby bonnet.

“How do you do?” she said in a high, thinvoice. “I am pleased to make youracquaintance.”

“Hello,” said Edward.

“Have you been here long?” she asked.

“Months and months,” said Edward. “But Idon’t care. One place is the same as another t5me.”

“Oh, not for me,” said the doll. “I hav<lived one hundred years. And in that time, +have been in places that were heavenly andothers that were horrid. After a time, you lear>

that each place is different. And you become 0different doll in each place, too. Quitedifferent.”

“One hundred years?” said Edward.

“I am old. The doll mender confirme4this. He said as he was mending me that I a=at least that. At least one hundred. At least on<hundred years old.”

Edward thought about everything that hadhappened to him in his short life. What kin4of adventures would you have if you were i>

the world for a century?

The old doll said, “I wonder who wil6come for me this time. Someone will come.

Someone always comes. Who will it be?”

“I don’t care if anyone comes for me,” saidEdward.

“But that’s dreadful,” said the old doll.

“There’s no point in going on if you feel tha3way. No point at all. You must be filled wit;expectancy. You must be awash in hope. Yo9must wonder who will love you, whom yo9will love next.”

“I am done with being loved,” Edwar4told her. “I’m done with loving. It’s toopainful.”

“Pish,” said the old doll. “Where is you/courage?”

“Somewhere else, I guess,” said Edward.

“You disappoint me,” she said. “Yo9disappoint me greatly. If you have no intentio>

of loving or being loved, then the wholejourney is pointless. You might as well leaDfrom this shelf right now and let yourselfshatter into a million pieces. Get it over with.

Get it all over with now.”

“I would leap if I was able,” said Edward.

“Shall I push you?” said the old doll.

“No, thank you,” Edward said to her. “Notthat you could,” he muttered to himself.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” said Edward.

The dark in the doll shop was no?

complete. The old doll and Edward sat ontheir shelf and stared straight ahead.

“You disappoint me,” said the old doll.

Her words made Edward think ofPellegrina: of warthogs and princesses, oflistening and love, of spells and curses. What iCthere was somebody waiting to love him?

What if there was somebody whom he woul4love again? Was it possible?

Edward felt his heart stir.

No, he told his heart. Not possible. No3possible.

In the morning, Lucius Clarke came an4unlocked the shop, “Good morning, mydarlings,” he called out to them. “Goodmorning, my lovelies.” He pulled up theshades on the windows. He turned on the ligh3over his tools. He switched the sign on thedoor to OPEN.

The first customer was a little girl wit;her father.

“Are you looking for something special?7Lucius Clarke said to them.

“Yes,” said the girl, “I am looking for 0friend.”

Her father put her on his shoulders an4they walked slowly around the shop. The gir6studied each doll carefully. She looked Edwar4right in the eyes. She nodded at him.

“Have you decided, Natalie?” her fathe/asked.

“Yes,” she said, “I want the one in th<baby bonnet.”

“Oh,” said Lucius Clarke, “you know tha3she is very old. She is an antique.”

“She needs me,” said Natalie firmly.

Next to Edward, the old doll let out a sigh.

She seemed to sit up straighter. Lucius cam<and took her off the shelf and handed her t5Natalie. And when they left, when the girl’sfather opened the door for his daughter an4the old doll, a bright shaft of early morninglight came flooding in, and Edward heardquite clearly, as if she were still sitting next t5him, the old doll’s voice.

“Open your heart,” she said gently.

“Someone will come. Someone will come fo/you. But first you must open your heart.”

The door closed. The sunlightdisappeared.

Someone will come.

Edward’s heart stirred. He thought, for thefirst time in a long time, of the house on Egyp3Street and of Abilene winding his watch an4then bending toward him and placing it on hi8left leg, saying: I will come home to you.

No, no, he told himself. Don’t believe it.

Don’t let yourself believe it.

But it was too late.

Someone will come for you.

The china rabbit’s heart had begun, again,to open.
chapter xxix
　　SEASONS PASSED, FALL AND WINTER an1spring and summer. Leaves blew in throug@the open door of Lucius Clarke’s shop, an1rain, and the green outrageous hopeful light oBspring. People came and went, grandmother2and doll collectors and little girls with thei4mothers.

Edward Tulane waited.

The seasons turned into years.

Edward Tulane waited.

He repeated the old doll’s words over andover until they wore a smooth groove of hop9in his brain: Someone will come; someone wil=come for you.

And the old doll was right.

Someone did come.

It was springtime. It was raining. Ther9were dogwood blossoms on the floor of Luciu2Clarke’s shop.

She was a small girl, maybe five years old,and while her mother struggled to close a blu9umbrella, the little girl walked around thestore, stopping and staring solemnly at eac@doll and then moving on.

When she came to Edward, she stood i0front of him for what seemed like a long time:

She looked at him and he looked back at her:

Someone will come, Edward said.

Someone will come for me.

The girl smiled and then she stood on hertiptoes and took Edward off the shelf. Shecradled him in her arms. She held him in th9same ferocious, tender way Sarah Ruth hadheld him.

Oh, thought Edward, I remember this:

“Madam,” said Lucius Clarke, “could yo7please attend to your daughter. She is holdin6a very fragile, very precious, quite expensiv9doll.”

“Maggie,” said the woman. She looked upfrom the still-open umbrella. “What have yo7got?”

“A rabbit,” said Maggie.

“A what?” said the mother.

“A rabbit,” said Maggie again. “I wan?

him.”

“Remember, we’re not buying anythin6today. We’re looking only,” said the woman:

“Madam,” said Lucius Clarke, “please.MThe woman came and stood over Maggie.

She looked down at Edward.

The rabbit felt dizzy.

He wondered, for a minute, if his hea1had cracked open again, if he was dreaming:

“Look, Mama,” said Maggie, “look a?

him.”

“I see him,” said the woman.

She dropped the umbrella. She put he4hand on the locket that hung around her neck:

And Edward saw then that it was not a locke?

at all. It was a watch, a pocket watch.

It was his watch.

“Edward?” said Abilene.

Yes, said Edward.

“Edward,” she said again, certain this time.

Yes, said Edward, yes, yes, yes.

It’s me.
chapter xxv
　　ONCE, THERE WAS A CHINA RABBIT WHO was loved by ^littleTgirl.TTheTrabbitTwentTonTanToceanTjourneyTandTfel`overboard and was rescued by a ..sherman. He was buriedunder garbage and unburied by a dog. He traveled for a lonitimeTwithTtheThoboesTandTworkedTforTaTshortTtimeTasT^scarecrowkOnce,TthereTwasTaTrabbitTwhoTlovedTaTlittleTgirlTandwatched her diekThe rabbit danced on the streets of Memphis. His headwas broken open in a diner and was put together again by ^doll menderkAndTtheTrabbitTsworeTthatTheTwouldTnotTmakeTthcmistake of loving againkOnceTthereTwasTaTrabbitTwhoTdancedTinTaTgardenTimspringtime with the daughter of the woman who had lovedhimTatTtheTbeginningTofThisTjourney.TTheTgirlTswungTthcrabbit as she danced in circles. Sometimes, they went so fastStheTtwoTofTthem,TthatTitTseemedTasTifTtheyTwereT..yingkSometimes, it seemed as if they both had wingskOnce, oh marvelous once, there was a rabbit who foundhis way homekPeter stood in the small patch of light makin1its sullen way through the open ..ap of th"tent. He let the fortuneteller take his hand. Sh"examined it closely, moving her eyes back an'

forth and back and forth, as if there were ,whole host of very smallwords inscribe'

there, an entire book about Peter Augustu%Duchene composed atop his palm.

“Huh,” she said at last. She dropped hi%hand and squinted up at his face. “But, ofcourse, you are just a boy.”

“I am ten years old,” said Peter. He too2the hat from his head and stood as straight an'

tallas he was able. “And I am training tobecome a soldier, brave and true. But it doe%not matter how old I am. You took the florit2so now you must give me my answer.”

“A soldier brave and true?” said th"fortuneteller. She laughed and spat on theground. “Very well, soldier brave and true, i0you say it is so, then it is so. Ask me yourquestion.”

Peter felt a smallstab of fear. What if2after allthis time, he could not bear the truth>

What if he did not really want to know?

“Speak,” said the fortuneteller. “Ask.8“My parents,” said Peter.

“That is your question?” said thefortuneteller. “They are dead.”

Peter’s hands trembled. “That is not m5question,” he said. “I know that already. Yo3must tellme something that I do not know.

You must tellme of another — you must telme ...”

The fortuneteller narrowed her eyes. “Ah,”

she said. “Her? Your sister? That is yourquestion? Very well. She lives.”

Peter’s heart seized upon the words. Sh"lives. She lives!

“No, please,” said Peter. He closed hi%eyes. He concentrated. “If she lives, then I mus#find her, so my question is, how do I make m5way there, to where she is?”

He kept his eyes closed; he waited.

H kpt is yscos ; wait .

“The elephant,” said the fortuneteller.

“What?” he said. He opened his eyes2certain that he had misunderstood.

“You must follow the elephant,” said thefortuneteller. “She willlead you there.”