Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes (Puffin Modern Classics)

classmates folded 356 cranes so that 1,000 were buried with Sadako. In a way she got her wish. She will live on in the hearts of people for a long time.

looked at her flock hanging from the ceiling. As she watched, a light autumn breeze made the birds rustle and sway. They seemed to be alive and flying out through the open window. How beautiful and free they were! Sadako sighed and closed her eyes.

She never woke up.

Sadako wanted to say more, but her mouth and tongue wouldn’t move. A tear slid down her cheek. She had brought her mother so much grief.

Toward the middle of October, Sadako lost track of days and nights. Once, when she was awake, she saw her mother crying.

“Don’t cry,” she begged. “Please don’t cry.” S

Did it hurt to die? Or was it like falling asleep?

If only I could forget about it, Sadako thought. But it was like trying to stop the rain from falling. As soon as she concentrated on something else, death crept back into her mind.

Everyone laughed. Even Sadako. “Then I’ll wear it to classes every day when I’m well again,” she joked.

Mitsue and Eiji giggled at the idea.

For a little while it was almost like the good times they used to have at home. They played word games and sang Sadako’s favorite songs. Meanwhile, she sat stiffly in the chair, trying not to show the pain it caused her. But it was worth the pain. When her parents left, they looked almost cheerful.

Before she went to sleep, Sadako managed to fold only one paper crane.

Six hundred and forty-four...

It was the last one she ever made.

that moment Chizuko came in. Dr. Numata had given her permission to visit for a short time. She stared at Sadako in surprise. “You look better in that outfit than in school clothes,” she said.

Everyone agreed that she was like a princess in the kimono.

handed Sadako a big box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a red ribbon. Slowly Sadako opened it. Inside was something her mother had always wanted for her—a silk kimono with cherry blossoms on it. Sadako felt hot tears blur her eyes.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, touching the soft cloth. “I’ll never be able to wear it and silk costs so much money.”

“Sadako chan,” her father said gently, “your mother stayed up late last night to finish sewing it. Try it on for her.”

reminded Sadako that there was always hope.