The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane (3 page)

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

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

“‘My father,’ said the princess, ‘is a powerful king. You must help me or there will be consequences.’

“‘Consequences?’ said the witch. She looked up from her gold. She stared at the princess. ‘You dare to talk to me of consequences? Very well, then, we will speak of consequences: tell me the name of the one you love.’

“‘Love!’ said the princess. She stamped her foot. ‘Why must everyone always speak of love?’

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

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

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

“And the beautiful princess was changed into a warthog.

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

“‘Talk to me of consequences now, will you?’ said the witch, and she went back to counting her pieces of gold. ‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-six,’ said the witch as the warthog princess ran from the hut and out again into the forest.

“The kings’ men were in the forest, too. And what were they looking for? A beautiful princess. And so when they came upon an ugly warthog, they shot it immediately. Pow!”

“No,” said Abilene.

“Yes,” said Pellegrina. “The men took the warthog back to the castle and the cook slit open its belly and inside it she found a ring of pure gold. There were many hungry people in the castle that night and all of them were waiting to be fed. So the cook put the ring on her finger and finished butchering the warthog. And the ring that the beautiful princess had swallowed shone on the cook’s hand as she did her 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 no one is living happily ever after, that’s why.”

“Ah, and so.” Pellegrina nodded. She was quiet for a moment. “But answer me this: how can a story end happily if there is no love? But. Well. It is late. And you must go to sleep.”

Pellegrina took Edward from Abilene. She put him in his bed and pulled the sheet up to his whiskers. She leaned close to him. She whispered, “You disappoint me.”

After the old lady left, Edward lay in his small bed and stared up at the ceiling. The story, he thought, had been pointless. But then most stories were. He thought of the princess and how she had become a warthog. How gruesome! How grotesque! What a terrible fate!

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

Yes, yes, thought Edward.

He continued to stare up at the ceiling. He was agitated for some reason that he could not name. He wished that Pellegrina had put him on his side so that he might look at the stars.

And then he remembered Pellegrina’s description of the beautiful princess. She shone as bright as the stars on a moonless night. For some reason, Edward found comfort in these words and he repeated them to himself —
as bright as the stars on a moonless night, as bright as the stars on a moonless night
— over and over until, at last, the first light of dawn appeared.

T
HE HOUSE ON EGYPT STREET became frantic with activity as the Tulane family prepared for their voyage to England. Edward possessed a small trunk, and Abilene packed it for him, filling it with his finest suits and several of his best hats and three pairs of shoes, all so that he might cut a fine figure in London. Before she placed each outfit in the trunk, she displayed it to him.

“Do you like this shirt with this suit?” she asked him.

Or, “Would you like to wear your black derby? You look very handsome in it. Shall we pack it?”

And then, finally, on a bright Saturday morning in May, Edward and Abilene and Mr. and Mrs. Tulane were all onboard the ship, standing at the railing. Pellegrina was at the dock. On her head, she wore a floppy hat strung around with flowers. She stared straight at Edward. Her dark eyes glowed.

“Goodbye,” Abilene shouted to her grandmother. “I love you.”

The ship pulled away from the dock. Pellegrina waved to Abilene.

“Goodbye, lady,” she called, “goodbye.”

Edward felt something damp in his ears. Abilene’s tears, he supposed. He wished that she would not hold him so tight. To be clutched so fiercely often resulted in wrinkled clothing. Finally, all the people on land, including Pellegrina, dis-appeared. Edward, for one, was relieved to see the last of her.

As was to be expected, Edward Tulane exacted much attention onboard the ship.

“What a singular rabbit,” said an elderly lady with three strings of pearls wrapped around her neck. She bent down to look more closely at Edward.

“Thank you,” said Abilene.

Several little girls onboard gave Edward deep glances full of longing. They asked Abilene if they might hold him.

“No,” said Abilene, “I’m afraid that he’s not the kind of rabbit who likes to be held by strangers.”

Two young boys, brothers named Martin and Amos, took a particular interest in Edward.

“What does he do?” Martin asked Abilene on their second day at sea. He pointed at Edward who was sitting on a deck chair with his long legs stretched in front of him.

“He doesn’t do anything,” said Abilene.

“Does he wind up somewhere?” asked Amos.

“No,” said Abilene, “he does not wind up.”

“What’s the point of him then?” said Martin.

“The point is that he is Edward,” said Abilene.

“That’s not much of a point,” said Amos.

“It’s not,” agreed Martin. And then, after a long thoughtful pause, he said, “I wouldn’t let anybody dress me like that.”

“Me neither,” said Amos.

“Do his clothes come off?” asked Martin.

“Of course they do,” said Abilene. “He has many different outfits. And he has his own pajamas, too. They are made of silk.”

Edward, as usual, was disregarding the conversation. A breeze was blowing in off the sea, and the silk scarf wrapped around his neck billowed out behind him. On his head, he wore a straw boater. The rabbit was thinking that he must look quite dashing.

It came as a total surprise to him when he was grabbed off the deck chair and first his scarf, and then his jacket and pants, were ripped from his body. He heard his pocket watch hit the deck of the ship; and then, held upside down, he watched the watch roll merrily toward Abilene’s feet.

“Look at him,” said Martin. “He’s even got underwear.” He held Edward aloft so that Amos could see.

“Take it off,” shouted Amos.

“NO!!!!” screamed Abilene.

Martin removed Edward’s underwear.

Edward was paying attention now. He was mortified. He was completely naked except for the hat on his head, and the other passengers onboard the ship were looking at him, directing curious and embarrassed glances his way.

“Give him to me,” screamed Abilene. “He’s mine.”

“No,” said Amos to Martin, “give him to
me
.” He clapped his hands together and then held them open. “Toss him,” he said.

“Please,” cried Abilene. “Don’t throw him. He’s made of china. He’ll break.”

Martin threw Edward.

And Edward sailed naked through the air. Only a moment ago, the rabbit had thought that being naked in front of a shipload of strangers was the worst thing that could happen to him. But he was wrong. It was much worse being tossed, in the same naked state, from the hands of one grubby, laughing boy to another.

Amos caught Edward and held him up, displaying him triumphantly.

“Throw him back,” called Martin.

Amos raised his arm, but just as he was getting ready to throw Edward, Abilene tackled him, shoving her head into his stomach, and upsetting the boy’s aim.

So it was that Edward did not go flying back into the dirty hands of Martin.

Instead, Edward Tulane went overboard.

H
OW DOES A CHINA RABBIT DIE?

Can a china rabbit drown?

Is my hat still on my head?

These were the questions that Edward asked himself as he went sailing out over the blue sea. The sun was high in the sky, and from what seemed to be a very long way away, Edward heard Abilene call his name.

“Edwaaarrd,” she shouted, “come back.”

Come back? Of all the ridiculous things to shout, thought Edward.

As he tumbled, ears over tail through the air, he managed to catch one last glimpse of Abilene. She was standing on the deck of the ship, holding on to the railing with one hand. In her other hand was a lamp — no, it was a ball of fire — no, Edward realized, it was his gold pocket watch that Abilene held in her hand; she was holding it up high, and it was reflecting the light of the sun.

My pocket watch, he thought. I need that.

And then Abilene disappeared from view and the rabbit hit the water with such tremendous force that his hat blew off his head.

That answers that question, thought Edward as he watched the hat dance away on the wind.

And then he began to sink.

He sank and sank and sank. He kept his eyes open the whole time. Not because he was brave, but because he had no choice. His painted-on eyes witnessed the blue water turning to green and then to blue again. They watched as it finally became as black as night.

Edward went down and down. He said to himself, If I am going to drown, certainly I would have done so by now.

Far above him, the ocean liner, with Abilene aboard it, sailed blithely on; and the china rabbit landed, finally, on the ocean floor, face-down; and there, with his head in the muck, he experienced his first genuine and true emotion.

Edward Tulane was afraid.

H
E TOLD HIMSELF THAT CERTAINLY Abilene would come and find him. This, Edward thought, is much like waiting for Abilene to come home from school. I will pretend that I am in the dining room of the house on Egypt Street, waiting for the little hand to move to the three and the big hand to land on the twelve. If only I had my watch, then I would know for sure. But it doesn’t matter; she will be here soon, very soon.