The Book Thief Part 45

He picked her up and helped her home. The game went on, and the n.a.z.i was already at the door of a lodging a few doors up. No one answered. Rudy was calling out again.

"Do you need help, Herr Hubermann?"

"No, no, you keep playing, Herr Steiner." Herr Steiner. You had to love Liesel's papa.

Once inside, Liesel gave him the information. She attempted to find the middle ground between silence and despair. "Papa."

"Don't talk."

"The party," she whispered. Papa stopped. He fought off the urge to open the door and look up the street. "They're checking bas.e.m.e.nts to make shelters."

He set her down. "Smart girl," he said, then called for Rosa.

They had a minute to come up with a plan. A shemozzle of thoughts.

"We'll just put him in Liesel's room," was Mama's suggestion. "Under the bed."

"That's it? What if they decide to search our rooms as well?"

"Do you have a better plan?"

Correction: they did not have a minute.

A seven-punch knock was hammered into the door of 33 Himmel Street, and it was too late to move anyone anywhere.

The voice.

"Open up!"

Their heartbeats fought each other, a mess of rhythm. Liesel tried to eat hers down. The taste of heart was not too cheerful.

Rosa whispered, "Jesus, Mary-"

On this day, it was Papa who rose to the occasion. He rushed to the bas.e.m.e.nt door and threw a warning down the steps. When he returned, he spoke fast and fluent. "Look, there is no time for tricks. We could distract him a hundred different ways, but there is only one solution." He eyed the door and summed up. "Nothing."

That was not the answer Rosa wanted. Her eyes widened. "Nothing? Are you crazy?"

The knocking resumed.

Papa was strict. "Nothing. We don't even go down there-not a care in the world."

Everything slowed.

Rosa accepted it.

Clenched with distress, she shook her head and proceeded to answer the door.

"Liesel." Papa's voice sliced her up. "Just stay calm, verstehst?"

"Yes, Papa."

She tried to concentrate on her bleeding leg.

"Aha!"

At the door, Rosa was still asking the meaning of this interruption when the kindly party man noticed Liesel.

"The maniacal soccer player!" He grinned. "How's the knee?" You don't usually imagine the n.a.z.is being too chirpy, but this man certainly was. He came in and made as if to crouch and view the injury.

Does he know? Liesel thought. Can he smell we're hiding a Jew?

Papa came from the sink with a wet cloth and soaked it onto Liesel's knee. "Does it sting?" His silver eyes were caring and calm. The scare in them could easily be mistaken as concern for the injury.

Rosa called across the kitchen, "It can't sting enough. Maybe it will teach her a lesson."

The party man stood and laughed. "I don't think this girl is learning any lessons out there, Frau ...?"

"Hubermann." The cardboard contorted.

"... Frau Hubermann-I think she teaches lessons." He handed Liesel a smile. "To all those boys. Am I right, young girl?"

Papa shoved the cloth into the graze and Liesel winced rather than answered. It was Hans who spoke. A quiet "sorry," to the girl.

There was the discomfort of silence then, and the party man remembered his purpose. "If you don't mind," he explained, "I need to inspect your bas.e.m.e.nt, just for a minute or two, to see if it's suitable for a shelter."

Papa gave Liesel's knee a final dab. "You'll have a nice bruise there, too, Liesel." Casually, he acknowledged the man above them. "Certainly. First door on the right. Please excuse the mess."

"I wouldn't worry-it can't be worse than some of the others I've seen today .... This one?"

"That's it."

THE LONGEST THREE MINUTES.

IN HUBERMANN HISTORY.

Papa sat at the table. Rosa prayed in the corner,

mouthing the words. Liesel was cooked: her knee,

her chest, the muscles in her arms. I doubt any

of them had the audacity to consider what they'd

do if the bas.e.m.e.nt was appointed as a shelter.

They had to survive the inspection first.

They listened to n.a.z.i footsteps in the bas.e.m.e.nt. There was the sound of measuring tape. Liesel could not ward off the thought of Max sitting beneath the steps, huddled around his sketchbook, hugging it to his chest.

Papa stood. Another idea.

He walked to the hall and called out, "Everything good down there?"

The answer ascended the steps, on top of Max Vandenburg. "Another minute, perhaps!"

"Would you like some coffee, some tea?"

"No thank you!"

When Papa returned, he ordered Liesel to fetch a book and for Rosa to start cooking. He decided the last thing they should do was sit around looking worried. "Well, come on," he said loudly, "move it, Liesel. I don't care if your knee hurts. You have to finish that book, like you said."

Liesel tried not to break. "Yes, Papa."

"What are you waiting for?" It took great effort to wink at her, she could tell.

In the corridor, she nearly collided with the party man.

"In trouble with your papa, huh? Never mind. I'm the same with my own children."

They walked their separate ways, and when Liesel made it to her room, she closed the door and fell to her knees, despite the added pain. She listened first to the judgment that the bas.e.m.e.nt was too shallow, then the goodbyes, one of which was sent down the corridor. "Goodbye, maniacal soccer player!"

She remembered herself. "Auf Wiedersehen! Goodbye!"

The Dream Carrier simmered in her hands.

According to Papa, Rosa melted next to the stove the moment the party man was gone. They collected Liesel and made their way to the bas.e.m.e.nt, removing the well-placed drop sheets and paint cans. Max Vandenburg sat beneath the steps, holding his rusty scissors like a knife. His armpits were soggy and the words fell like injuries from his mouth.

"I wouldn't have used them," he quietly said. "I'm ..." He held the rusty arms flat against his forehead. "I'm so sorry I put you through that."

Papa lit a cigarette. Rosa took the scissors.

"You're alive," she said. "We all are."

It was too late now for apologies.

THE SCHMUNZELER.

Minutes later, a second knocker was at the door.

"Good Lord, another one!"

Worry resumed immediately.

Max was covered up.

Rosa trudged up the bas.e.m.e.nt steps, but when she opened the door this time, it was not the n.a.z.is. It was none other than Rudy Steiner. He stood there, yellow-haired and good-intentioned. "I just came to see how Liesel is."

When she heard his voice, Liesel started making her way up the steps. "I can deal with this one."

"Her boyfriend," Papa mentioned to the paint cans. He blew another mouthful of smoke.

"He is not my boyfriend," Liesel countered, but she was not irritated. It was impossible after such a close call. "I'm only going up because Mama will be yelling out any second."

"Liesel!"

She was on the fifth step. "See?"

When she reached the door, Rudy moved from foot to foot. "I just came to see-" He stopped. "What's that smell?" He sniffed. "Have you been smoking in there?"

"Oh. I was sitting with Papa."