Page 447 - The Book Thief

punch any better with his one usable fist. For Rosa staggered. Certainly, war

meant dying, but it always shifted the ground beneath a persons feet when it was
someone who had once lived and breathed in close proximity. Rosa had watched
both of the Holtzapfel boys grow up.

The oldened young man somehow found a way to list what happened without
losing his nerve. I was in one of the buildings we used for a hospital when they
brought him in. It was a week before I was coming home. I spent three days of
that week sitting with him before he died. . . .

Im sorry. The words didnt seem to come from Rosas mouth. It was someone else
standing behind Liesel Meminger that evening, but she did not dare to look.

Please. Michael stopped her. Dont say anything else. Can I take the girl to read?
I doubt my mother will hear it, but she said for her to come.

Yes, take her.

They were halfway down the path when Michael Holtzapfel remembered
himself and returned. Rosa? There was a moment of waiting while Mama
rewidened the door. I heard your son was there. In Russia. I ran into someone
else from Molching and they told me. But Im sure you knew that already.

Rosa tried to prevent his exit. She rushed out and held his sleeve. No. He left
here one day and never came back. We tried to find him, but then so much
happened, there was . . .

Michael Holtzapfel was determined to escape. The last thing he wanted to hear
was yet another sob story. Pulling himself away, he said, As far as I know, hes
alive. He joined Liesel at the gate, but the girl did not walk next door. She

watched Rosas face. It lifted and dropped in the same moment.

Mama?

Rosa raised her hand. Go.

Liesel waited.

I said go.