The Book Thief(17)

We cant read in the dark, Mama, Liesel said.



What was that, Saumensch?



Nothing, Mama.



Papa grinned and pointed at the girl. Book, sandpaper, pencil, he ordered her, and accordion! once she was already gone. Soon, they were on Himmel Street, carrying the words, the music, the washing.



As they walked toward Frau Dillers, they turned around a few times to see if Mama was still at the gate, checking on them. She was. At one point, she called out, Liesel, hold that ironing straight! Dont crease it!



Yes, Mama!



A few steps later: Liesel, are you dressed warm enough?!



What did you say?



Saumensch dreckiges, you never hear anything! Are you dressed warm enough? It might get cold later!



Around the corner, Papa bent down to do up a shoelace. Liesel, he said, could you roll me a cigarette?



Nothing would give her greater pleasure.



Once the ironing was delivered, they made their way back to the Amper River, which flanked the town. It worked its way past, pointing in the direction of Dachau, the concentration camp.



There was a wooden-planked bridge.



They sat maybe thirty meters down from it, in the grass, writing the words and reading them aloud, and when darkness was near, Hans pulled out the accordion. Liesel looked at him and listened, though she did not immediately notice the perplexed expression on her papas face that evening as he played.





PAPAS FACE

It traveled and wondered,

but it disclosed no answers.

Not yet.





There had been a change in him. A slight shift.



She saw it but didnt realize until later, when all the stories came together. She didnt see him watching as he played, having no idea that Hans Hubermanns accordion was a story. In the times ahead, that story would arrive at 33 Himmel Street in the early hours of morning, wearing ruffled shoulders and a shivering jacket. It would carry a suitcase, a book, and two questions. A story. Story after story. Story within story.



For now, there was only the one as far as Liesel was concerned, and she was enjoying it.



She settled into the long arms of grass, lying back.



She closed her eyes and her ears held the notes.



There were, of course, some problems as well. A few times, Papa nearly yelled at her. Come on, Liesel, hed say. You know this word; you know it! Just when progress seemed to be flowing well, somehow things would become lodged.



When the weather was good, theyd go to the Amper in the afternoon. In bad weather, it was the basement. This was mainly on account of Mama. At first, they tried in the kitchen, but there was no way.



Rosa, Hans said to her at one point. Quietly, his words cut through one of her sentences. Could you do me a favor?



She looked up from the stove. What?



Im asking you, Im begging you, could you please shut your mouth for just five minutes?



You can imagine the reaction.



They ended up in the basement.



There was no lighting there, so they took a kerosene lamp, and slowly, between school and home, from the river to the basement, from the good days to the bad, Liesel was learning to read and write.



Soon, Papa told her, youll be able to read that awful graves book with your eyes closed.



And I can get out of that midget class.



She spoke those words with a grim kind of ownership.



In one of their basement sessions, Papa dispensed with the sandpaper (it was running out fast) and pulled out a brush. There were few luxuries in the Hubermann household, but there was an oversupply of paint, and it became more than useful for Liesels learning. Papa would say a word and the girl would have to spell it aloud and then paint it on the wall, as long as she got it right. After a month, the wall was recoated. A fresh cement page.



Some nights, after working in the basement, Liesel would sit crouched in the bath and hear the same utterances from the kitchen.



You stink, Mama would say to Hans. Like cigarettes and kerosene.



Sitting in the water, she imagined the smell of it, mapped out on her papas clothes. More than anything, it was the smell of friendship, and she could find it on herself, too. Liesel loved that smell. She would sniff her arm and smile as the water cooled around her.





THE HEAVY WEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE SCHOOL-YARD





The summer of 39 was in a hurry, or perhaps Liesel was. She spent her time playing soccer with Rudy and the other kids on Himmel Street (a year-round pastime), taking ironing around town with Mama, and learning words. It felt like it was over a few days after it began.



In the latter part of the year, two things happened.





SEPTEMBERNOVEMBER 1939





World War Two begins.



Liesel Meminger becomes the heavyweight champion of the school yard.



The beginning of September.



It was a cool day in Molching when the war began and my workload increased.