The Book Thief(20)

Rudy stood there, next to her.



It began to rain, nice and hard.



Kurt Steiner called out, but neither of them moved. One sat painfully now, among the falling chunks of rain, and the other stood next to her, waiting.



Why did he have to die? she asked, but still, Rudy did nothing; he said nothing.



When finally she finished and stood herself up, he put his arm around her, best-buddy style, and they walked on. There was no request for a kiss. Nothing like that. You can love Rudy for that, if you like.



Just dont kick me in the eggs.



Thats what he was thinking, but he didnt tell Liesel that. It was nearly four years later that he offered that information.



For now, Rudy and Liesel made their way onto Himmel Street in the rain.



He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.



She was the book thief without the words.



Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.





PART TWO





the shoulder shrug





featuring:

a girl made of darknessthe joy of cigarettes

a town walkersome dead lettershitlers birthday

100 percent pure german sweatthe gates of thievery

and a book of fire





A GIRL MADE OF DARKNESS





SOME STATISTICAL INFORMATION

First stolen book: January 13, 1939

Second stolen book: April 20, 1940

Duration between said stolen books: 463 days





If you were being flippant about it, youd say that all it took was a little bit of fire, really, and some human shouting to go with it. Youd say that was all Liesel Meminger needed to apprehend her second stolen book, even if it smoked in her hands. Even if it lit her ribs.



The problem, however, is this:



This is no time to be flippant.



Its no time to be half watching, turning around, or checking the stovebecause when the book thief stole her second book, not only were there many factors involved in her hunger to do so, but the act of stealing it triggered the crux of what was to come. It would provide her with a venue for continued book thievery. It would inspire Hans Hubermann to come up with a plan to help the Jewish fist fighter. And it would show me, once again, that one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.



In a way, it was destiny.



You see, people may tell you that Nazi Germany was built on anti-Semitism, a somewhat overzealous leader, and a nation of hate-fed bigots, but it would all have come to nothing had the Germans not loved one particular activity:



To burn.



The Germans loved to burn things. Shops, synagogues, Reichstags, houses, personal items, slain people, and of course, books. They enjoyed a good book-burning, all rightwhich gave people who were partial to books the opportunity to get their hands on certain publications that they otherwise wouldnt have. One person who was that way inclined, as we know, was a thin-boned girl named Liesel Meminger. She may have waited 463 days, but it was worth it. At the end of an afternoon that had contained much excitement, much beautiful evil, one blood-soaked ankle, and a slap from a trusted hand, Liesel Meminger attained her second success story. The Shoulder Shrug. It was a blue book with red writing engraved on the cover, and there was a small picture of a cuckoo bird under the title, also red. When she looked back, Liesel was not ashamed to have stolen it. On the contrary, it was pride that more resembled that small pool of felt something in her stomach. And it was anger and dark hatred that had fueled her desire to steal it. In fact, on April 20the Fhrers birthdaywhen she snatched that book from beneath a steaming heap of ashes, Liesel was a girl made of darkness.



The question, of course, should be why?



What was there to be angry about?



What had happened in the past four or five months to culminate in such a feeling?



In short, the answer traveled from Himmel Street, to the Fhrer, to the unfindable location of her real mother, and back again.



Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.





THE JOY OF CIGARETTES





Toward the end of 1939, Liesel had settled into life in Molching pretty well. She still had nightmares about her brother and missed her mother, but there were comforts now, too.



She loved her papa, Hans Hubermann, and even her foster mother, despite the abusages and verbal assaults. She loved and hated her best friend, Rudy Steiner, which was perfectly normal. And she loved the fact that despite her failure in the classroom, her reading and writing were definitely improving and would soon be on the verge of something respectable. All of this resulted in at least some form of contentment and would soon be built upon to approach the concept of Being Happy.





THE KEYS TO HAPPINESS





Finishing The Grave Diggers Handbook.