The Book Thief(29)

Is my mother a communist? Staring. Straight ahead. They were always asking her things, before I came here.



Hans edged forward a little, forming the beginnings of a lie. I have no ideaI never met her.



Did the Fhrer take her away?



The question surprised them both, and it forced Papa to stand up. He looked at the brown-shirted men taking to the pile of ash with shovels. He could hear them hacking into it. Another lie was growing in his mouth, but he found it impossible to let it out. He said, I think he might have, yes.



I knew it. The words were thrown at the steps and Liesel could feel the slush of anger, stirring hotly in her stomach. I hate the Fhrer, she said. I hate him.



And Hans Hubermann?



What did he do?



What did he say?



Did he bend down and embrace his foster daughter, as he wanted to? Did he tell her that he was sorry for what was happening to her, to her mother, for what had happened to her brother?



Not exactly.



He clenched his eyes. Then opened them. He slapped Liesel Meminger squarely in the face.



Dont ever say that! His voice was quiet, but sharp.



As the girl shook and sagged on the steps, he sat next to her and held his face in his hands. It would be easy to say that he was just a tall man sitting poor-postured and shattered on some church steps, but he wasnt. At the time, Liesel had no idea that her foster father, Hans Hubermann, was contemplating one of the most dangerous dilemmas a German citizen could face. Not only that, hed been facing it for close to a year.



Papa?



The surprise in her voice rushed her, but it also rendered her useless. She wanted to run, but she couldnt. She could take a Watschen from nuns and Rosas, but it hurt so much more from Papa. The hands were gone from Papas face now and he found the resolve to speak again.



You can say that in our house, he said, looking gravely at Liesels cheek. But you never say it on the street, at school, at the BDM, never! He stood in front of her and lifted her by the triceps. He shook her. Do you hear me?



With her eyes trapped wide open, Liesel nodded her compliance.



It was, in fact, a rehearsal for a future lecture, when all of Hans Hubermanns worst fears arrived on Himmel Street later that year, in the early hours of a November morning.



Good. He placed her back down. Now, let us try . . . At the bottom of the steps, Papa stood erect and cocked his arm. Forty-five degrees. Heil Hitler.



Liesel stood up and also raised her arm. With absolute misery, she repeated it. Heil Hitler. It was quite a sightan eleven-year-old girl, trying not to cry on the church steps, saluting the Fhrer as the voices over Papas shoulder chopped and beat at the dark shape in the background.



Are we still friends?



Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, Papa held a cigarette olive branch in his palmthe paper and tobacco hed just received. Without a word, Liesel reached gloomily across and proceeded to roll it.



For quite a while, they sat there together.



Smoke climbed over Papas shoulder.



After another ten minutes, the gates of thievery would open just a crack, and Liesel Meminger would widen them a little further and squeeze through.





TWO QUESTIONS

Would the gates shut behind her?

Or would they have the goodwill to let her back out?





As Liesel would discover, a good thief requires many things.



Stealth. Nerve. Speed.



More important than any of those things, however, was one final requirement.



Luck.



Actually.



Forget the ten minutes.



The gates open now.





BOOK OF FIRE





The dark came in pieces, and with the cigarette brought to an end, Liesel and Hans Hubermann began to walk home. To get out of the square, they would walk past the bonfire site and through a small side road onto Munich Street. They didnt make it that far.



A middle-aged carpenter named Wolfgang Edel called out. Hed built the platforms for the Nazi big shots to stand on during the fire and he was in the process now of pulling them down. Hans Hubermann? He had long sideburns that pointed to his mouth and a dark voice. Hansi!



Hey, Wolfal, Hans replied. There was an introduction to the girl and a heil Hitler. Good, Liesel.



For the first few minutes, Liesel stayed within a five-meter radius of the conversation. Fragments came past her, but she didnt pay too much attention.



Getting much work?



No, its all tighter now. You know how it is, especially when youre not a member.



You told me you were joining, Hansi.



I tried, but I made a mistakeI think theyre still considering.



Liesel wandered toward the mountain of ash. It sat like a magnet, like a freak. Irresistible to the eyes, similar to the road of yellow stars.



As with her previous urge to see the mounds ignition, she could not look away. All alone, she didnt have the discipline to keep a safe distance. It sucked her toward it and she began to make her way around.