Page 187 - The Book Thief

After a minute or so of testing each other out, they began moving closer and
taking more risks. It was a street fight after all, not an hour-long title fight. They
didnt have all day.

Come on, Max! one of his friends was calling out. There was no breath between
any of the words. Come on, Maxi Taxi, youve got him now, youve got him, Jew
boy, youve got him, youve got him!

A small kid with soft tufts of hair, a beaten nose, and swampy eyes, Max was a
good head shorter than his opposition. His fighting style was utterly graceless,
all bent over, nudging forward, throwing fast punches at the face of Kugler. The
other boy, clearly stronger and more skillful, remained upright, throwing jabs
that constantly landed on Maxs cheeks and chin.

Max kept coming.

Even with the heavy absorption of punches and punishment, he continued
moving forward. Blood discolored his lips. It would soon be dried across his
teeth.

There was a great roar when he was knocked down. Money was almost
exchanged.

Max stood up.

He was beaten down one more time before he changed tactics, luring Walter
Kugler a little closer than hed wanted to come. Once he was there, Max was able
to apply a short, sharp jab to his face. It stuck. Exactly on the nose.

Kugler, suddenly blinded, shuffled back, and Max seized his chance. He
followed him over to the right and jabbed him once more and opened him up
with a punch that reached into his ribs. The right hand that ended him landed on
his chin. Walter Kugler was on the ground, his blond hair peppered with dirt. His
legs were parted in a V. Tears like crystal floated down his skin, despite the fact
that he was not crying. The tears had been bashed out of him.

The circle counted.