Page 132 - The Book Thief

normally would. Instead, she stepped aside and motioned with her chalky hand

and wrist for the girl to enter.

Im just here for the washing. Liesels blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled.
She almost broke into pieces on the steps.

The woman said her first word to her then. She reached out, cold-fingered, and
said, Wartewait. When she was sure the girl had steadied, she turned and walked
hastily back inside.

Thank God, Liesel exhaled. Shes getting it. It being the washing.

What the woman returned with, however, was nothing of the sort.

When she came and stood with an impossibly frail steadfastness, she was
holding a tower of books against her stomach, from her navel to the beginnings
of her breasts. She looked so vulnerable in the monstrous doorway. Long, light

eyelashes and just the slightest twinge of expression. A suggestion.

Come and see, it said.

Shes going to torture me, Liesel decided. Shes going to take me inside, light the
fireplace, and throw me in, books and all. Or shell lock me in the basement
without any food.

For some reason, thoughmost likely the lure of the booksshe found herself
walking in. The squeaking of her shoes on the wooden floorboards made her
cringe, and when she hit a sore spot, inducing the wood to groan, she almost
stopped. The mayors wife was not deterred. She only looked briefly behind and
continued on, to a chestnut-colored door. Now her face asked a question.

Are you ready?

Liesel craned her neck a little, as if she might see over the door that stood in her
way. Clearly, that was the cue to open it.

Jesus, Mary . . .

She said it out loud, the words distributed into a room that was full of cold air