The Book Thief(65)

In bed, she read with Papa, who could tell something was wrong. It was the first time in a month that hed come in and sat with her, and she was comforted, if only slightly. Somehow, Hans Hubermann always knew what to say, when to stay, and when to leave her be. Perhaps Liesel was the one thing he was a true expert at.



Is it the washing? he asked.



Liesel shook her head.



Papa hadnt shaved for a few days and he rubbed the scratchy whiskers every two or three minutes. His silver eyes were flat and calm, slightly warm, as they always were when it came to Liesel.



When the reading petered out, Papa fell asleep. It was then that Liesel spoke what shed wanted to say all along.



Papa, she whispered, I think Im going to hell.



Her legs were warm. Her knees were cold.



She remembered the nights when shed wet the bed and Papa had washed the sheets and taught her the letters of the alphabet. Now his breathing blew across the blanket and she kissed his scratchy cheek.



You need a shave, she said.



Youre not going to hell, Papa replied.



For a few moments, she watched his face. Then she lay back down, leaned on him, and together, they slept, very much in Munich, but somewhere on the seventh side of Germanys die.





RUDYS YOUTH





In the end, she had to give it to him.



He knew how to perform.





A PORTRAIT OF RUDY STEINER:

JULY 1941

Strings of mud clench his face. His tie

is a pendulum, long dead in its clock.

His lemon, lamp-lit hair is disheveled

and he wears a sad, absurd smile.





He stood a few meters from the step and spoke with great conviction, great joy.



Alles ist Scheisse, he announced.



All is shit.



In the first half of 1941, while Liesel went about the business of concealing Max Vandenburg, stealing newspapers, and telling off mayors wives, Rudy was enduring a new life of his own, at the Hitler Youth. Since early February, hed been returning from the meetings in a considerably worse state than hed left in. On many of those return trips, Tommy Mller was by his side, in the same condition. The trouble had three elements to it.





A TRIPLE-TIERED PROBLEM





Tommy Mllers ears.



Franz Deutscherthe irate Hitler Youth leader.



Rudys inability to stay out of things.



If only Tommy Mller hadnt disappeared for seven hours on one of the coldest days in Munichs history, six years earlier. His ear infections and nerve damage were still contorting the marching pattern at the Hitler Youth, which, I can assure you, was not a positive thing.



To begin with, the downward slide of momentum was gradual, but as the months progressed, Tommy was consistently gathering the ire of the Hitler Youth leaders, especially when it came to the marching. Remember Hitlers birthday the previous year? For some time, the ear infections were getting worse. They had reached the point where Tommy had genuine problems hearing. He could not make out the commands that were shouted at the group as they marched in line. It didnt matter if it was in the hall or outside, in the snow or the mud or the slits of rain.



The goal was always to have everyone stop at the same time.



One click! they were told. Thats all the Fhrer wants to hear. Everyone united. Everyone together as one!



Then Tommy.



It was his left ear, I think. That was the most troublesome of the two, and when the bitter cry of Halt! wet the ears of everybody else, Tommy marched comically and obliviously on. He could transform a marching line into a dogs breakfast in the blink of an eye.



On one particular Saturday, at the beginning of July, just after three-thirty and a litany of Tommy-inspired failed marching attempts, Franz Deutscher (the ultimate name for the ultimate teenage Nazi) was completely fed up.



Mller, du A fe! His thick blond hair massaged his head and his words manipulated Tommys face. You apewhats wrong with you?



Tommy slouched fearfully back, but his left cheek still managed to twitch in a manic, cheerful contortion. He appeared not only to be laughing with a triumphant smirk, but accepting the bucketing with glee. And Franz Deutscher wasnt having any of it. His pale eyes cooked him.



Well? he asked. What can you say for yourself?



Tommys twitch only increased, in both speed and depth.



Are you mocking me?



Heil, twitched Tommy, in a desperate attempt to buy some approval, but he did not make it to the Hitler part.



That was when Rudy stepped forward. He faced Franz Deutscher, looking up at him. Hes got a problem, sir



I can see that!



With his ears, Rudy finished. He cant



Right, thats it. Deutscher rubbed his hands together. Both of yousix laps of the grounds. They obeyed, but not fast enough. Schnell! His voice chased them.



When the six laps were completed, they were given some drills of the rundrop downget upget down again variety, and after fifteen very long minutes, they were ordered to the ground for what should have been the last time.