The Book Thief Part 38

For the most part, his fringe was sliced away freely, but with each stroke, there were always a few hairs that held on for dear life and were pulled out completely. As each one was plucked, Rudy winced, his black eye throbbing in the process and his ribs flas.h.i.+ng in pain.

"April twentieth, eighteen eighty-nine!" Franz lectured him, and when he led his cohorts away, the audience dispersed, leaving only Liesel, Tommy, and Kristina with their friend.

Rudy lay quietly on the ground, in the rising damp.

Which leaves us only with stupid act number three-skipping the Hitler Youth meetings.

He didn't stop going right away, purely to show Deutscher that he wasn't afraid of him, but after another few weeks, Rudy ceased his involvement altogether.

Dressed proudly in his uniform, he exited Himmel Street and kept walking, his loyal subject, Tommy, by his side.

Instead of attending the Hitler Youth, they walked out of town and along the Amper, skipping stones, heaving enormous rocks into the water, and generally getting up to no good. He made sure to get the uniform dirty enough to fool his mother, at least until the first letter arrived. That was when he heard the dreaded call from the kitchen.

First, his parents threatened him. He didn't attend.

They begged him to go. He refused.

Eventually, it was the opportunity to join a different division that swayed Rudy in the right direction. This was fortunate, because if he didn't show his face soon, the Steiners would be fined for his non-attendance. His older brother, Kurt, inquired as to whether Rudy might join the Flieger Division, which specialized in the teaching of aircraft and flying. Mostly, they built model airplanes, and there was no Franz Deutscher. Rudy accepted, and Tommy also joined. It was the one time in his life that his idiotic behavior delivered beneficial results.

In his new division, whenever he was asked the famous Fhrer question, Rudy would smile and answer, "April 20, 1889," and then to Tommy, he'd whisper a different date, like Beethoven's birthday, or Mozart's, or Strauss's. They'd been learning about composers in school, where despite his obvious stupidity, Rudy excelled.

THE FLOATING BOOK (Part II) At the beginning of December, victory finally came to Rudy Steiner, though not in a typical fas.h.i.+on.

It was a cold day, but very still. It had come close to snowing.

After school, Rudy and Liesel stopped in at Alex Steiner's shop, and as they walked home, they saw Rudy's old friend Franz Deutscher coming around the corner. Liesel, as was her habit these days, was carrying The Whistler. She liked to feel it in her hand. Either the smooth spine or the rough edges of paper. It was she who saw him first.

"Look." She pointed. Deutscher was loping toward them with another Hitler Youth leader.

Rudy shrank into himself. He felt at his mending eye. "Not this time." He searched the streets. "If we go past the church, we can follow the river and cut back that way."

With no further words, Liesel followed him, and they successfully avoided Rudy's tormentor-straight into the path of another.

At first, they thought nothing of it.

The group crossing the bridge and smoking cigarettes could have been anybody, and it was too late to turn around when the two parties recognized each other.

"Oh, no, they've seen us."

Viktor Chemmel smiled.

He spoke very amiably. This could only mean that he was at his most dangerous. "Well, well, if it isn't Rudy Steiner and his little wh.o.r.e." Very smoothly, he met them and s.n.a.t.c.hed The Whistler from Liesel's grip. "What are we reading?"

"This is between us." Rudy tried to reason with him. "It has nothing to do with her. Come on, give it back."

"The Whistler." He addressed Liesel now. "Any good?"

She cleared her throat. "Not bad." Unfortunately, she gave herself away. In the eyes. They were agitated. She knew the exact moment when Viktor Chemmel established that the book was a prize possession.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "For fifty marks, you can have it back."

"Fifty marks!" That was Andy Schmeikl. "Come on, Viktor, you could buy a thousand books for that."

"Did I ask you to speak?"

Andy kept quiet. His mouth seemed to swing shut.

Liesel tried a poker face. "You can keep it, then. I've already read it."

"What happens at the end?"

d.a.m.n it!

She hadn't gotten that far yet.

She hesitated, and Viktor Chemmel deciphered it instantly.

Rudy rushed at him now. "Come on, Viktor, don't do this to her. It's me you're after. I'll do anything you want."

The older boy only swatted him away, the book held aloft. And he corrected him.

"No," he said. "I'll do anything I want," and he proceeded to the river. Everyone followed, at catch-up speed. Half walk, half run. Some protested. Some urged him on.

It was so quick, and relaxed. There was a question, and a mocking, friendly voice.

"Tell me," Viktor said. "Who was the last Olympic discus champion, in Berlin?" He turned to face them. He warmed up his arm. "Who was it? G.o.dd.a.m.n it, it's on the tip of my tongue. It was that American, wasn't it? Carpenter or something ..."

"Please!"-Rudy.

The water toppled.

Viktor Chemmel did the spin.

The book was released gloriously from his hand. It opened and flapped, the pages rattling as it covered ground in the air. More abruptly than expected, it stopped and appeared to be sucked toward the water. It clapped when it hit the surface and began to float downstream.

Viktor shook his head. "Not enough height. A poor throw." He smiled again. "But still good enough to win, huh?"

Liesel and Rudy didn't stick around to hear the laughter.

Rudy in particular had taken off down the riverbank, attempting to locate the book.

"Can you see it?" Liesel called out.

Rudy ran.

He continued down the water's edge, showing her the book's location. "Over there!" He stopped and pointed and ran farther down to overtake it. Soon, he peeled off his coat and jumped in, wading to the middle of the river.

Liesel, slowing to a walk, could see the ache of each step. The painful cold.

When she was close enough, she saw it move past him, but he soon caught up. His hand reached in and collared what was now a soggy block of cardboard and paper. "The Whistler!" the boy called out. It was the only book floating down the Amper River that day, but he still felt the need to announce it.

Another note of interest is that Rudy did not attempt to leave the devastatingly cold water as soon as he held the book in his hand. For a good minute or so, he stayed. He never did explain it to Liesel, but I think she knew very well that the reasons were twofold.

THE FROZEN MOTIVES.

OF RUDY STEINER.

1. After months of failure, this moment was his only chance to revel in some victory.

2. Such a position of selflessness was a good place to ask Liesel for the usual favor.

How could she possibly turn him down?

"How about a kiss, Saumensch?"

He stood waist-deep in the water for a few moments longer before climbing out and handing her the book. His pants clung to him, and he did not stop walking. In truth, I think he was afraid. Rudy Steiner was scared of the book thief's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them.

PART SIX.

the dream carrier featuring:

death's diary-the snowman-thirteen

presents-the next book-the nightmare of

a jewish corpse-a newspaper sky-a visitor-

a schmunzeler-and a final kiss on poisoned cheeks

DEATH'S DIARY: 1942 It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to name just a few. Forget the scythe, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a vacation.

A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH.

I do not carry a sickle or scythe.

I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold.

And I don't have those skull-like