The Book Thief(109)

The soldier picked up a few pieces and studied each side of the road. The prisoners also looked.



In there!



One of the soldiers was striding over, to the girl by the closest trees. Next he saw the boy. Both began to run.



They chose different directions, under the rafters of branches and the tall ceiling of the trees.



Dont stop running, Liesel!



What about the bikes?



Scheiss drauf! Shit on them, who cares!



They ran, and after a hundred meters, the hunched breath of the soldier drew closer. It sidled up next to her and she waited for the accompanying hand.



She was lucky.



All she received was a boot up the ass and a fistful of words. Keep running, little girl, you dont belong here! She ran and she did not stop for at least another mile. Branches sliced her arms, pinecones rolled at her feet, and the taste of Christmas needles chimed inside her lungs.



A good forty-five minutes had passed by the time she made it back, and Rudy was sitting by the rusty bikes. Hed collected what was left of the bread and was chewing on a stale, stiff portion.



I told you not to get too close, he said.



She showed him her backside. Have I got a footprint?





THE HIDDEN SKETCHBOOK





A few days before Christmas, there was another raid, although nothing dropped on the town of Molching. According to the radio news, most of the bombs fell in open country.



What was most important was the reaction in the Fiedlers shelter. Once the last few patrons had arrived, everyone settled down solemnly and waited. They looked at her, expectantly.



Papas voice arrived, loud in her ears.



And if there are more raids, keep reading in the shelter.



Liesel waited. She needed to be sure that they wanted it.



Rudy spoke for everyone. Read, Saumensch.



She opened the book, and again, the words found their way upon all those present in the shelter.



At home, once the sirens had given permission for everyone to return aboveground, Liesel sat in the kitchen with her mama. A preoccupation was at the forefront of Rosa Hubermanns expression, and it was not long until she picked up a knife and left the room. Come with me.



She walked to the living room and took the sheet from the edge of her mattress. In the side, there was a sewn-up slit. If you didnt know beforehand that it was there, there was almost no chance of finding it. Rosa cut it carefully open and inserted her hand, reaching in the length of her entire arm. When it came back out, she was holding Max Vandenburgs sketchbook.



He said to give this to you when you were ready, she said. I was thinking your birthday. Then I brought it back to Christmas. Rosa Hubermann stood and there was a strange look on her face. It was not made up of pride. Perhaps it was the thickness, the heaviness of recollection. She said, I think youve always been ready, Liesel. From the moment you arrived here, clinging to that gate, you were meant to have this.



Rosa gave her the book.



The cover looked like this:





THE WORD SHAKER

A Small Collection

of Thoughts

for Liesel Meminger





Liesel held it with soft hands. She stared. Thanks, Mama.



She embraced her.



There was also a great longing to tell Rosa Hubermann that she loved her. Its a shame she didnt say it.



She wanted to read the book in the basement, for old times sake, but Mama convinced her otherwise. Theres a reason Max got sick down there, she said, and I can tell you one thing, girl, Im not letting you get sick.



She read in the kitchen.



Red and yellow gaps in the stove.



The Word Shaker.



She made her way through the countless sketches and stories, and the pictures with captions. Things like Rudy on a dais with three gold medals slung around his neck. Hair the color of lemons was written beneath it. The snowman made an appearance, as did a list of the thirteen presents, not to mention the records of countless nights in the basement or by the fire.



Of course, there were many thoughts, sketches, and dreams relating to Stuttgart and Germany and the Fhrer. Recollections of Maxs family were also there. In the end, he could not resist including them. He had to.



Then came page 117.



That was where The Word Shaker itself made its appearance.



It was a fable or a fairy tale. Liesel was not sure which. Even days later, when she looked up both terms in the Duden Dictionary, she couldnt distinguish between the two.



On the previous page, there was a small note.





PAGE 116

LieselI almost scribbled this story out. I thought you

might be too old for such a tale, but maybe no one is. I

thought of you and your books and words, and this strange

story came into my head. I hope you can find some good in it.





She turned the page.



THERE WAS once a strange, small man. He decided three important details about his life: