The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

21

THE DINER WAS CALLED NEAL’S. THE word was written in big, red neon letters that flashed on and off. Inside, it was warm and bright and smelled like fried chicken and toast and coffee.

Bryce sat at the counter and put Edward on a stool next to him. He leaned the rabbit’s forehead up against the counter so that he would not fall.

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

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

The waitress leaned forward and pulled at one of Edward’s ears and then pushed him backward so that she could see his face.

“This your rabbit?” she said to Bryce.

“Yes’m. He’s mine now. He belonged to my sister.” Bryce wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “We’re in show business, me and him.”

“Is that right?” said the waitress. She had a nametag on the front of her dress. Marlene, it said. She looked at Edward’s face, and then she let go of his ear and he fell forward so that his head rested against the counter again.

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

The food came, and Bryce ate all of it without even looking up from his plate.

“Well, you was hungry for sure,” said Marlene as she cleared away the plates. “I reckon show business is hard work.”

“Yes’m,” said Bryce.

Marlene tucked the check under the coffee cup. Bryce picked it up and looked at it and then shook his head.

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

“Ma’am,” he said to Marlene when she came back and filled up his coffee cup. “I ain’t got enough.”

“What, sugar?”

“I ain’t got enough money.”

She stopped pouring the coffee and looked at him. “You’re going to have to talk to Neal about that.”

Neal, it turned out, was both the owner and the cook. He was a large, red-haired, red-faced man who came out of the kitchen holding a spatula in one hand.

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

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

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

“I reckon,” said Bryce.

“You reckon?” said Neal. He brought the spatula down on the countertop with a thwack.

Bryce jumped. “Yes, sir. I mean, no sir.”

“I. Cooked. It. For. You,” said Neal.

“Yes, sir,” said Bryce. He picked Edward up off the stool and held him close. Everyone in the diner had stopped eating. They were all staring at the boy and the rabbit and Neal. Only Marlene looked away.

“You ordered it. I cooked it. Marlene served it. You ate it. Now,” said Neal. “I want my money.” He tapped the spatula lightly on the counter.

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

“How’s that?” said Neal.

“You ever before in your life seen a rabbit dance?” Bryce set Edward on the floor and started pulling the strings attached to his feet, making him do a slow shuffle. He put his harmonica in his mouth and played a sad song that went along with the dance.

Somebody laughed.

Bryce took the harmonica out of his mouth and said, “He could dance some more if you want him to. He could dance to pay for what I ate.”

Neal stared at Bryce. And then without warning, he reached down and grabbed hold of Edward.

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

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

There was a loud crack.

Bryce screamed.

And the world, Edward’s world, went black.