"You could just ask Lyra to read it," I reminded her.

"But then at least we would know--"

And in the course of hunting for those, I discovered the Ellowynes waiting for Tonner Edward at the printerbook tableshelf. These days he alternated brooding over my copy of Jane Eyre with trading out fresh books from the Lending Library of Cleo more and more frequently. Quite honestly, since Bella's kitchen is on top of that particular bookshelf, and since he was ignoring far better collections elsewhere in the room for two small shelves of books I mostly read in grade school, I was beginning to suspect his motives.
"OH COME ON! You didn't even READ Sarah, Plain and Tall!"

"Bella, Small and Clumsy? You realize you're not any better than the Ellowynes, right?"





"She reads cookbooks."

"I don't know that she saw you--"

"I'm really pretty sure she didn't see you at all--"

And I knew then that The Littlest Edward had better get on the stick, and he better get on it soon.
Here's the thing: The Littlest Edward wanted to shepherd and oversee every single aspect of Little Bella's life. She must have the warmest socks to sleep in, every ingredient her pastry-baking heart could desire, constant protection from his rival--but he wanted all of this for her without actually speaking to her himself. And you know, if he had managed to be content with this, if he could have loved her placidly from afar, TONNER EDWARD, that would have been one thing. But he wasn't, not at all; he wasn't descending into crazy quite as quickly as his larger rival, but bottling up all these unspoken yearnings wasn't good for him, either. I checked in on the Sparklerosa one afternoon, for example, and found him working on a little art therapy project. Good for him! I thought. He does have a lot of feelings, after all. Maybe this will help him deal--express some of it, maybe get over some of it, at least think about something other than Bella Swan for one afternoon. He was putting together a very nice mosaic of...
... oh.
"COME ON!" I said, finally exasperated. "You really can't call dibs and not use them. She's lonely; you're lonely. You're both the same size. And King Kong over there is going insane. You gotta make your move, man."

"Oh, come on--!"

Well then. He'd never quite gotten that graphic about it before. I wondered in how much detail he'd been thinking about this. "But you don't know," I said gently. "You stayed in the cabinet for three whole hours with Clarice! You're stronger than you think--besides, you and she are the only two dolls your size, surely that means something...?"

Well, now we were getting somewhere, in that I finally understood that he would, paradoxically, get nowhere on his own. Clearly, some coaching was in order. And then, I had a Brilliant Idea:
"Okay, look. Here she is. Go up to her. What do you say?"

"That... is a start. Hi, she says." (I could have told him that she would then say "My name is Bella," but I wasn't sure I could count on even that elementary a courtesy from her. Better to prepare him for the worst-case scenario.) "What do you say next?"

"Okay, let's try the unweird version of that. It's okay! This is why we're practicing. It's a process; we're--we're revising, right? 'Hi. I've seen you around.' " I waved my hand: Continue! And here are some of the highlights--the highlights, mind you--of our Talking to Girls training session:

"Yes you can. Yes, you can. Look, I need you to take a deep breath, go slow, and think about what you are saying. Don't just let all this whatever come pouring out of your mouth. Man of mystery, okay? When in doubt, leave her wanting more. Man of mystery. Go!"

"Okay, the moment I mean comes out of your mouth, you go down in flames. GO SLOWLY. Don't explain yourself! Don't second-guess yourself! This is not a deep intellectual conversation! This is 'Hi, you're new, would you like me to show you around'!"


"NO! STOP IT! NO! NO BABBLING! 'HELLO! MY NAME IS EDWARD CULLEN!' THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY! OH MY GOD!"

"Okay. Look--no, no, it's okay! It's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--look, it's going to be okay. You're new at this; I can't just throw you on the battlefield and expect miracles. 'Hello. My name is Edward Cullen. You're new here, right? Would you like me to show you around?' Seriously, I will write it down for you. Where my Post-It notes at--here. Learn this."

(It was only a little shove.)
I went back over to Bella and looked as "casually" "busy" as "possible." "Oh look," I said five seconds later with admirable nonchalance, "it's that guy I told you about. You know, the one the same size as you. Come on over to the printer, I'll introduce you."
Edward took a deep breath and stepped forward. Bella put one hand on her hip and surveyed him.

And then he turned green and fled.

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