The Book Thief(81)

ONE SMALL IMAGE

For the most part, all is identical.

The train moves at the same speed.

Copiously, her brother coughs. This

time, however, Liesel cannot see his

face watching the floor. Slowly,

she leans over. Her hand lifts him

gently, from his chin, and there

in front of her is the wide-eyed face

of Max Vandenburg. He stares at her.

A feather drops to the floor. The

body is bigger now, matching the

size of the face. The train screams.





Liesel?



I said everythings good.



Shivering, she climbed from the mattress. Stupid with fear, she walked through the hallway to Max. After many minutes at his side, when everything slowed, she attempted to interpret the dream. Was it a premonition of Maxs death? Or was it merely a reaction to the afternoon conversation in the kitchen? Had Max now replaced her brother? And if so, how could she discard her own flesh and blood in such a way? Perhaps it was even a deep-seated wish for Max to die. After all, if it was good enough for Werner, her brother, it was good enough for this Jew.



Is that what you think? she whispered, standing above the bed. No. She could not believe it. Her answer was sustained as the numbness of the dark waned and outlined the various shapes, big and small, on the bedside table. The presents.



Wake up, she said.



Max did not wake up.



For eight more days.



At school, there was a rapping of knuckles on the door.



Come in, called Frau Olendrich.



The door opened and the entire classroom of children looked on in surprise as Rosa Hubermann stood in the doorway. One or two gasped at the sighta small wardrobe of a woman with a lipstick sneer and chlorine eyes. This. Was the legend. She was wearing her best clothes, but her hair was a mess, and it was a towel of elastic gray strands.



The teacher was obviously afraid. Frau Hubermann . . . Her movements were cluttered. She searched through the class. Liesel?



Liesel looked at Rudy, stood, and walked quickly toward the door to end the embarrassment as fast as possible. It shut behind her, and now she was alone, in the corridor, with Rosa.



Rosa faced the other way.



What, Mama?



She turned. Dont you what Mama me, you little Saumensch ! Liesel was gored by the speed of it. My hairbrush! A trickle of laughter rolled from under the door, but it was drawn instantly back.



Mama?



Her face was severe, but it was smiling. What the hell did you do with my hairbrush, you stupid Saumensch, you little thief ? Ive told you a hundred times to leave that thing alone, but do you listen? Of course not!



The tirade went on for perhaps another minute, with Liesel making a desperate suggestion or two about the possible location of the said brush. It ended abruptly, with Rosa pulling Liesel close, just for a few seconds. Her whisper was almost impossible to hear, even at such close proximity. You told me to yell at you. You said theyd all believe it. She looked left and right, her voice like needle and thread. He woke up, Liesel. Hes awake. From her pocket, she pulled out the toy soldier with the scratched exterior. He said to give you this. It was his favorite. She handed it over, held her arms tightly, and smiled. Before Liesel had a chance to answer, she finished it off. Well? Answer me! Do you have any other idea where you might have left it?



Hes alive, Liesel thought. . . . No, Mama. Im sorry, Mama, I



Well, what good are you, then? She let go, nodded, and walked away.



For a few moments, Liesel stood. The corridor was huge. She examined the soldier in her palm. Instinct told her to run home immediately, but common sense did not allow it. Instead, she placed the ragged soldier in her pocket and returned to the classroom.



Everyone waited.



Stupid cow, she whispered under her breath.



Again, kids laughed. Frau Olendrich did not.



What was that?



Liesel was on such a high that she felt indestructible. I said, she beamed, stupid cow, and she didnt have to wait a single moment for the teachers hand to slap her.



Dont speak about your mother like that, she said, but it had little effect. The girl merely stood there and attempted to hold off the grin. After all, she could take a Watschen with the best of them. Now get to your seat.



Yes, Frau Olendrich.



Next to her, Rudy dared to speak.



Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he whispered, I can see her hand on your face. A big red hand. Five fingers!



Good, said Liesel, because Max was alive.



When she made it home that afternoon, he was sitting up in bed with the deflated soccer ball on his lap. His beard itched him and his swampy eyes fought to stay open. An empty bowl of soup was next to the gifts.



They did not say hello.



It was more like edges.



The door creaked, the girl came in, and she stood before him, looking at the bowl. Is Mama forcing it down your throat?



He nodded, content, fatigued. It was very good, though.