thunk.
“What now?” I ask, feeling slightly reassured that the air inside isn’t cold.
“Have a seat.” Rabbit gestures to one of the boxes on the floor. With a shrug, I sit. “Can I see your hand?” Rabbit pulls a tube of something from his pocket. “I’ve got burn cream and bandages here.”
Following the same nothing left to lose fatalism that has brought me this far, I hold my hand out. Rabbit takes it gently into his own surprisingly soft hands. I can’t stand to watch as he treats the ugly burn on my hand, but by the time he finishes wrapping the bandage and gently places my hand back on my own knee, the terrible throbbing pain is already starting to fade.
“Now,” Rabbit says, taking a seat on the box beside me. “I would like to explain myself before we go see your father. He won’t like it, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share this conversation with him.”
“If he won’t like it, why do it?”
“I feel like I owe you an explanation.” Rabbit presses his hands together in a prayerful gesture. “If you’ll allow me.”
Even though I’ve had enough of Rabbit’s company, I am still not super eager for my upcoming father-daughter reunion. A little procrastination with the side benefit of giving me extra info can only work out in my favor. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna make things easy for Rabbit. “Fine. Don’t think this evens us out, though. You’d have to spill an oil tanker’s worth of explanation for me to be okay with this.” I hold up my bandaged hand and Rabbit winces.
“Of course, you’ve been hurt. I understand that.” Rabbit pauses and then reaches into his mouth and extracts his teeth. The whole mouthful of them are fake and now rest on his palm. With the teeth missing his face shrinks and his lips nearly disappear. “Your father’s the one who gave me these teeth. He took the ones I was born with. Pulled them from my mouth one by one, all the while telling me I was lucky he wasn’t sawing off my fingers instead.”
I can’t help but shudder. “Why do you keep working for him?”
Rabbit laughs. “Your father and me, we’re friends.”
“Friends? That’s not what I call a friend.”
“Well, like I said before, different bunnies, you know? He didn’t mean nothing by it—he just needed something from me. In fact, the same something you need.”
“And what’s that?” I ask.
“Information. You’re trying to put a puzzle together without all the pieces. You don’t know much about your father, do you? Well, besides the stuff that made the papers, right?”
I’m about to argue—to be difficult—when instead, almost against my will, I nod. It’s strange, but before I can worry about it, Rabbit starts talking again.
“Yes, that’s what I figured. You can’t explain what you don’t understand, and no one’s ever understood your father.”
“But you do?”
“Understand him?” Rabbit laughs. “Nah. But I do know his secrets, and that’s something.”
This conversation and Rabbit’s detour-heavy way of explaining things is giving me a headache, so I try to push him toward the point. “Like the secret about how he once tried to kill me?”
“That is a juicy one, isn’t it?” Rabbit agrees. “Your father only married your mother because of her wish-granting abilities, but he gravely overestimated her powers, and as you can imagine, the marriage suffered because of it. But then, he found the loophole. When a wish granter willingly—that’s the important part—passes his or her ability on to another wish granter, it gives the second wish granter unparalleled powers. The theory for why this happens is controversial, but most believe that it’s not only the wish-granting talent being passed along, but the giver’s actual life force.”
“But my mom is still alive.”
“Well, certainly. Many people live long lives with no will to do so at all.”
I put my head in my hands, feeling battered. I wish I could pretend it was bullshit, but after what Benji told me earlier, it all makes perfect sense.
Rabbit pats my shoulder gently. “Not that you asked, but my advice is get out of town while you can. Got any money? Savings?”
I open my mouth, intending to tell Rabbit there’s no chance I’m gonna run. Instead, I hear myself say, “My uncles have six thousand four hundred thirty-three dollars and thirteen cents hidden in an old pizza box.” This is the second time since I’ve been in Rabbit’s presence that I’ve said more than I intended to, and it doesn’t feel