The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

20

HOW MANY DANCING RABBITS HAVE you seen in your life?” Bryce said to Edward. “I can tell you how many I seen. One. You. That’s how you and me are going to make some money. I seen it the last time I was in Memphis. Folks put on any kind of show right there on the street corner and people pay ’em for it. I seen it.”

The walk to town took all night. Bryce walked without stopping, carrying Edward under one arm and talking to him the whole time. Edward tried to listen, but the terrible scarecrow feeling had come back, the feeling he had when he was hanging by his ears in the old lady’s garden, the feeling that nothing mattered, and that nothing would ever matter again.

And not only did Edward feel hollow; he ached. Every part of his china body hurt. He ached for Sarah Ruth. He wanted her to hold him. He wanted to dance for her.

And he did dance, but it was not for Sarah Ruth. Edward danced for strangers on a dirty street corner in Memphis. Bryce played his harmonica and moved Edward’s strings, and Edward bowed and shuffled and swayed and people stopped to stare and point and laugh. On the ground in front of them was Sarah Ruth’s button box. The lid was open to encourage people to drop change inside it.

“Mama,” said a small child, “look at that bunny. I want to touch him.” He reached out his hand for Edward.

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

A man wearing a hat stopped and stared at Edward and Bryce.

“It’s a sin to dance,” he said. And then after a long pause, he said, “It’s a particular sin for rabbits to dance.”

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

The shadows lengthened. The sun became an orange dusty ball low in the sky. Bryce started to cry. Edward saw his tears land on the pavement. But the boy did not stop playing his harmonica. He did not make Edward stop dancing.

An old woman leaning on a cane stepped up close to them. She stared at Edward with deep, dark eyes.

Pellegrina? thought the dancing rabbit.

She nodded at him.

Look at me, he said to her. His arms and legs jerked. Look at me. You got your wish. I have learned how to love. And it’s a terrible thing. I’m broken. My heart is broken. Help me.

The old woman turned and hobbled away.

Come back, thought Edward. Fix me.

Bryce cried harder. He made Edward dance faster.

Finally, when the sun was gone and the streets were dark, Bryce stopped playing his harmonica.

“I’m done now,” he said.

He let Edward fall to the pavement. “I ain’t gonna cry anymore.” Bryce wiped his nose and his eyes with the back of his hand; he picked up the button box and looked inside it. “We got us enough money to get something to eat,” he said. “Come on, Jangles.”