Page 182 - The Book Thief

A GOOD GIRL

In November 1940, when Max Vandenburg arrived in the kitchen of 33 Himmel
Street, he was twenty-four years old. His clothes seemed to weigh him down,
and his tiredness was such that an itch could break him in two. He stood shaking
and shaken in the doorway.

Do you still play the accordion?

Of course, the question was really, Will you still help me?

Liesels papa walked to the front door and opened it. Cautiously, he looked
outside, each way, and returned. The verdict was nothing.

Max Vandenburg, the Jew, closed his eyes and drooped a little further into
safety. The very idea of it was ludicrous, but he accepted it nonetheless.

Hans checked that the curtains were properly closed. Not a crack could be
showing. As he did so, Max could no longer bear it. He crouched down and
clasped his hands.

The darkness stroked him.

His fingers smelled of suitcase, metal, Mein Kampf, and survival.

It was only when he lifted his head that the dim light from the hallway reached
his eyes. He noticed the pajamaed girl, standing there, in full view.

Papa?

Max stood up, like a struck match. The darkness swelled now, around him.

Everythings fine, Liesel, Papa said. Go back to bed.

She lingered a moment before her feet dragged from behind. When she stopped
and stole one last look at the foreigner in the kitchen, she could decipher the