Page 322 - The Book Thief

was it merely a reaction to the afternoon conversation in the kitchen? Had Max

now replaced her brother? And if so, how could she discard her own flesh and
blood in such a way? Perhaps it was even a deep-seated wish for Max to die.
After all, if it was good enough for Werner, her brother, it was good enough for
this Jew.

Is that what you think? she whispered, standing above the bed. No. She could
not believe it. Her answer was sustained as the numbness of the dark waned and
outlined the various shapes, big and small, on the bedside table. The presents.

Wake up, she said.

Max did not wake up.

For eight more days.

At school, there was a rapping of knuckles on the door.

Come in, called Frau Olendrich.

The door opened and the entire classroom of children looked on in surprise as
Rosa Hubermann stood in the doorway. One or two gasped at the sighta small
wardrobe of a woman with a lipstick sneer and chlorine eyes. This. Was the
legend. She was wearing her best clothes, but her hair was a mess, and it was a
towel of elastic gray strands.

The teacher was obviously afraid. Frau Hubermann . . . Her movements were
cluttered. She searched through the class. Liesel?

Liesel looked at Rudy, stood, and walked quickly toward the door to end the

embarrassment as fast as possible. It shut behind her, and now she was alone, in
the corridor, with Rosa.

Rosa faced the other way.

What, Mama?

She turned. Dont you what Mama me, you little Saumensch ! Liesel was gored
by the speed of it. My hairbrush! A trickle of laughter rolled from under the