Page 189 - The Book Thief

Then came November 9. Kristallnacht. The night of broken glass.

It was the very incident that destroyed so many of his fellow Jews, but it proved
to be Max Vandenburgs moment of escape. He was twenty-two.

Many Jewish establishments were being surgically smashed and looted when
there was a clatter of knuckles on the apartment door. With his aunt, his mother,
his cousins, and their children, Max was crammed into the living room.

Aufmachen!

The family watched each other. There was a great temptation to scatter into the
other rooms, but apprehension is the strangest thing. They couldnt move.

Again. Open up!

Isaac stood and walked to the door. The wood was alive, still humming from the
beating it had just been given. He looked back at the faces naked with fear,
turned the lock, and opened the door.

As expected, it was a Nazi. In uniform.

Never.

That was Maxs first response.

He clung to his mothers hand and that of Sarah, the nearest of his cousins. I wont
leave. If we all cant go, I dont go, either.

He was lying.

When he was pushed out by the rest of his family, the relief struggled inside him
like an obscenity. It was something he didnt want to feel, but nonetheless, he felt
it with such gusto it made him want to throw up. How could he? How could he?

But he did.

Bring nothing, Walter told him. Just what youre wearing. Ill give you the rest.