The Book Thief (57 page)

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Authors: Markus Zusak

BOOK: The Book Thief
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Left in the basement with Papa, Liesel busied herself by mopping up the excess water with some drop sheets.

Papa spoke. With his wet hand, he made the girl stop. He held her forearm. “Liesel?” His face clung to her. “Do you think he’s alive?”

Liesel sat.

She crossed her legs.

The wet drop sheet soaked onto her knee.

“I hope so, Papa.”

It felt like such a stupid thing to say, so obvious, but there seemed little alternative.

To say at least something of value, and to distract them from thoughts of Max, she made herself crouch and placed a finger in a small pool of water on the floor.
“Guten Morgen
, Papa.”

In response, Hans winked at her.

But it was not the usual wink. It was heavier, clumsier. The post-Max version, the hangover version. He sat up and told her about the accordion of the previous night, and Frau Holtzapfel.

THE KITCHEN:
1
P.M.
Two hours till goodbye: “Don’t go, Papa. Please.”
Her spoon-holding hand is shaking. “First we lost Max
.
I can’t lose you now, too.” In response, the hungover
man digs his elbow into the table and covers his right eye
.
“You’re half a woman now, Liesel.” He wants to break down but
wards it off. He rides through it. “Look after
Mama, will you?” The girl can make only half a nod
to agree. “Yes, Papa.”

He left Himmel Street wearing his hangover and a suit.

Alex Steiner was not leaving for another four days. He came over an hour before they left for the station and wished Hans all the best. The whole Steiner family had come. They all shook his hand. Barbara embraced him, kissing both cheeks. “Come back alive.”

“Yes, Barbara,” and the way he’d said it was full of confidence. “Of course I will.” He even managed to laugh. “It’s just a war, you know. I’ve survived one before.”

When they walked up Himmel Street, the wiry woman from next door came out and stood on the pavement.

“Goodbye, Frau Holtzapfel. My apologies for last night.”

“Goodbye, Hans, you drunken
Saukerl,”
but she offered him a note of friendship, too. “Come home soon.”

“Yes, Frau Holtzapfel. Thank you.”

She even played along a little. “You know what you can do with your thanks.”

At the corner, Frau Diller watched defensively from her shop window and Liesel took Papa’s hand. She held it all the way along Munich Street, to the
Bahnhof
. The train was already there.

They stood on the platform.

Rosa embraced him first.

No words.

Her head was buried tightly into his chest, then gone.

Then the girl.

“Papa?”

Nothing.

Don’t go, Papa. Just don’t go. Let them come for you if you stay. But don’t go, please don’t go.

“Papa?”

THE TRAIN STATION,
3
P.M.
No hours, no minutes till goodbye
:
He holds her. To say something, to say
anything
,
he speaks over her shoulder. “Could you look after my
accordion, Liesel? I decided not to take it.”
Now he finds something he truly means. “And if
there are more raids, keep reading in the shelter.”
The girl feels the continued sign of her slightly
growing chest. It hurts as it touches the bottom of his ribs
.
“Yes, Papa.” A millimeter from her eyes, she
stares at the fabric of his suit. She speaks into
him. “Will you play us something when you come home?”

Hans Hubermann smiled at his daughter then and the train was ready to leave. He reached out and gently held her face in his hand. “I promise,” he said, and he made his way into the carriage.

They watched each other as the train pulled away.

Liesel and Rosa waved.

Hans Hubermann grew smaller and smaller, and his hand held nothing now but empty air.

On the platform, people disappeared around them until no one else was left. There was only the wardrobe-shaped woman and the thirteen-year-old girl.

For the next few weeks, while Hans Hubermann and Alex Steiner were at their various fast-tracked training camps, Himmel Street was swollen. Rudy was not the same—he didn’t talk. Mama was not the same—she didn’t berate. Liesel, too, was feeling the effects. There was no desire to steal a book, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that it would cheer her up.

After twelve days of Alex Steiner’s absence, Rudy decided he’d had enough. He hurried through the gate and knocked on Liesel’s door.

“Kommst?”

“Ja.”

She didn’t care where he was going or what he was planning, but he would not be going without her. They walked up Himmel, along Munich Street and out of Molching altogether. It was after
approximately an hour that Liesel asked the vital question. Up till then, she’d only glanced over at Rudy’s determined face, or examined his stiff arms and the fisted hands in his pockets.

“Where are we going?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

She struggled to keep up. “Well, to tell you the truth—not really.”

“I’m going to find him.”

“Your papa?”

“Yes.” He thought about it. “Actually, no. I think I’ll find the
Führer
instead.”

Faster footsteps. “Why?”

Rudy stopped. “Because I want to kill him.” He even turned on the spot, to the rest of the world. “Did you hear that, you bastards?” he shouted. “I want to kill the
Führer!”

They resumed walking and made it another few miles or so. That was when Liesel felt the urge to turn around. “It’ll be dark soon, Rudy.”

He walked on. “So what?”

“I’m going back.”

Rudy stopped and watched her now as if she were betraying him. “That’s right, book thief. Leave me now. I bet if there was a lousy book at the end of this road, you’d keep walking. Wouldn’t you?”

For a while, neither of them spoke, but Liesel soon found the will. “You think you’re the only one,
Saukerl
?” She turned away. “And you only lost your father ….”

“What does that mean?”

Liesel took a moment to count.

Her mother. Her brother. Max Vandenburg. Hans Hubermann. All of them gone. And she’d never even
had
a real father.

“It means,” she said, “I’m going home.”

For fifteen minutes she walked alone, and even when Rudy arrived at her side with jogging breath and sweaty cheeks, not another
word was said for more than an hour. They only walked home together with aching feet and tired hearts.

There was a chapter called “Tired Hearts” in
A Song in the Dark
. A romantic girl had promised herself to a young man, but it appeared that he had run away with her best friend. Liesel was sure it was
chapter thirteen
. “‘My heart is so tired,’” the girl had said. She was sitting in a chapel, writing in her diary.

No, thought Liesel as she walked. It’s my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn’t feel like this.

When they reached the perimeter of Molching, Liesel threw some words across. She could see Hubert Oval. “Remember when we raced there, Rudy?”

“Of course. I was just thinking about that myself—how we both fell.”

“You said you were covered in shit.”

“It was only mud.” He couldn’t hold his amusement now. “I was covered in shit at Hitler Youth. You’re getting mixed up,
Saumensch.”

“I’m not mixed up at all. I’m only telling you what you
said
. What someone says and what happened are usually two different things, Rudy, especially when it comes to you.”

This was better.

When they walked down Munich Street again, Rudy stopped and looked into the window of his father’s shop. Before Alex left, he and Barbara had discussed whether she should keep it running in his absence. They decided against it, considering that work had been slow lately anyway, and there was at least a partial threat of party members making their presence felt. Business was never good for agitators. The army pay would have to do.

Suits hung from the rails and the mannequins held their ridiculous poses. “I think that one likes you,” Liesel said after a while. It was her way of telling him it was time to keep going.

On Himmel Street, Rosa Hubermann and Barbara Steiner stood together on the footpath.

“Oh, Maria,” Liesel said. “Do they look worried?”

“They look mad.”

There were many questions when they arrived, mainly of the “Just where in the hell have you two been?” nature, but the anger quickly gave way to relief.

It was Barbara who pursued the answers. “Well, Rudy?”

Liesel answered for him. “He was killing the
Führer,”
she said, and Rudy looked genuinely happy for a long enough moment to please her.

“Bye, Liesel.”

Several hours later, there was a noise in the living room. It stretched toward Liesel in bed. She awoke and remained still, thinking ghosts and Papa and intruders and Max. There was the sound of opening and dragging, and then the fuzzy silence who followed. The silence was always the greatest temptation.

Don’t move.

She thought that thought many times, but she didn’t think it enough.

Her feet scolded the floor.

Air breathed up her pajama sleeves.

She walked through the corridor darkness in the direction of silence that had once been noisy, toward the thread of moonlight standing in the living room. She stopped, feeling the bareness of her ankles and toes. She watched.

It took longer than she expected for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, there was no denying the fact that Rosa Hubermann was sitting
on the edge of the bed with her husband’s accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn’t even appear to be breathing.

The sight of it propelled itself to the girl in the hallway.

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