Page 446 - The Book Thief

Liesel touched the wall at her side. She couldnt lie. Yes, of course.

The man laughed. This isnt cold. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it in his
mouth. One-handed, he tried to light a match. In the dismal weather, it would
have been difficult with both hands, but with just the one, it was impossible. He
dropped the matchbook and swore.

Liesel picked it up.

She took his cigarette and put it in her mouth. She, too, could not light it.

You have to suck on it, the man explained. In this weather, it only lights when
you suck. Verstehst?

She gave it another go, trying to remember how Papa did it. This time, her
mouth filled with smoke. It climbed her teeth and scratched her throat, but she
restrained herself from coughing.

Well done. When he took the cigarette and breathed it in, he reached out his
uninjured hand, his left. Michael Holtzapfel.

Liesel Meminger.

Youre coming to read to my mother?

Rosa arrived behind her at that point, and Liesel could feel the shock at her back.
Michael? she asked. Is that you?

Michael Holtzapfel nodded. Guten Tag, Frau Hubermann. Its been a long time.

You look so . . .

Old?

Rosa was still in shock, but she composed herself. Would you like to come in? I
see you met my foster daughter. . . . Her voice trailed off as she noticed the
bloodied hand.

My brothers dead, said Michael Holtzapfel, and he could not have delivered the