The Book Thief(70)

The pair of them gravitated toward the immaculate, bulky house. They rustled their thoughts.



You hungry? Rudy asked.



Liesel replied. Starving. For a book.



Looka light just came on upstairs.



I see it.



Still hungry, Saumensch?



They laughed nervously for a moment before going through the motions of who should go in and who should stand watch. As the male in the operation, Rudy clearly felt that he should be the aggressor, but it was obvious that Liesel knew this place. It was she who was going in. She knew what was on the other side of the window.



She said it. It has to be me.



Liesel closed her eyes. Tightly.



She compelled herself to remember, to see visions of the mayor and his wife. She watched her gathered friendship with Ilsa Hermann and made sure to see it kicked in the shins and left by the wayside. It worked. She detested them.



They scouted the street and crossed the yard silently.



Now they were crouched beneath the slit in the window on the ground floor. The sound of their breathing amplified.



Here, Rudy said, give me your shoes. Youll be quieter.



Without complaint, Liesel undid the worn black laces and left the shoes on the ground. She rose up and Rudy gently opened the window just wide enough for Liesel to climb through. The noise of it passed overhead, like a low-flying plane.



Liesel heaved herself onto the ledge and tussled her way inside. Taking off her shoes, she realized, was a brilliant idea, as she landed much heavier on the wooden floor than shed anticipated. The soles of her feet expanded in that painful way, rising to the inside edges of her socks.



The room itself was as it always was.



Liesel, in the dusty dimness, shrugged off her feelings of nostalgia. She crept forward and allowed her eyes to adjust.



Whats going on? Rudy whispered sharply from outside, but she waved him a backhander that meant Halts Maul. Keep quiet.



The food, he reminded her. Find the food. And cigarettes, if you can.



Both items, however, were the last things on her mind. She was home, among the mayors books of every color and description, with their silver and gold lettering. She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her. Her feet took her to the right-hand wall. She knew the one she wantedthe exact positionbut when she made it to The Whistlers usual place on the shelf, it was not there. A slight gap was in its place.



From above, she heard footsteps.



The light! Rudy whispered. The words were shoved through the open window. Its out!



Scheisse.



Theyre coming downstairs.



There was a giant length of a moment then, the eternity of split-second decision. Her eyes scanned the room and she could see The Whistler, sitting patiently on the mayors desk.



Hurry up, Rudy warned her. But very calmly and cleanly, Liesel walked over, picked up the book, and made her way cautiously out. Headfirst, she climbed from the window, managing to land on her feet again, feeling the pang of pain once more, this time in her ankles.



Come on, Rudy implored her. Run, run. Schnell!



Once around the corner, on the road back down to the river and Munich Street, she stopped to bend over and recover. Her body was folded in the middle, the air half frozen in her mouth, her heart tolling in her ears.



Rudy was the same.



When he looked over, he saw the book under her arm. He struggled to speak. Whatshe grappled with the wordswith the book?



The darkness was filling up truly now. Liesel panted, the air in her throat defrosting. It was all I could find.



Unfortunately, Rudy could smell it. The lie. He cocked his head and told her what he felt was a fact. You didnt go in for food, did you? You got what you wanted. . . .



Liesel straightened then and was overcome with the sickness of another realization.



The shoes.



She looked at Rudys feet, then at his hands, and at the ground all around him.



What? he asked. What is it?



Saukerl, she accused him. Where are my shoes? Rudys face whitened, which left her in no doubt. Theyre back at the house, she suggested, arent they?



Rudy searched desperately around himself, begging against all reality that he might have brought them with him. He imagined himself picking them up, wishing it truebut the shoes were not there. They sat uselessly, or actually, much worse, incriminatingly, by the wall at 8 Grande Strasse.



Dummkopf ! he admonished himself, smacking his ear. He looked down shamefully at the sullen sight of Liesels socks. Idiot! It didnt take him long to decide on making it right. Earnestly, he said, Just wait, and he hurried back around the corner.



Dont get caught, Liesel called after him, but he didnt hear.



The minutes were heavy while he was gone.



Darkness was now complete and Liesel was quite certain that a Watschen was most likely in the cards when she returned home. Hurry, she murmured, but still Rudy didnt appear. She imagined the sound of a police siren throwing itself forward and reeling itself in. Collecting itself.