She was taken up, put in a chair at the side, and told to keep hermouth shut by the teacher, who also happened to be a nun. At theother end of the classroom, Rudy looked across and waved. Lieselwaved back and tried not to smile.At home, she was well into reading The Grave Digger’s Handbookwith […]
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“What was that, Saumensch?”“Nothing, Mama.”Papa grinned and pointed at the girl. “Book, sandpaper, pencil,” heordered her, “and accordion!” once she was already gone. Soon, theywere on Himmel Street, carrying the words, the music, the washing.As they walked toward Frau Diller’s, they turned around a few timesto see if Mama was still at the gate, checking
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“To tell you the truth,” Papa explained upfront, “I am not such a goodreader myself.”But it didn’t matter that he read slowly. If anything, it might havehelped that his own reading pace was slower than average. Perhaps itwould cause less frustration in coping with the girl’s lack of ability.Still, initially, Hans appeared a little uncomfortable
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of charcoal contaminating his fingers. He covered everything, didn’the? he thought. It’s even in his ears, for God’s sake. “Come on.”On the way home, Mr. Steiner decided to talk politics with the boy asbest he could. Only in the years ahead would Rudy understand it all—when it was too late to bother understanding anything.THE CONTRADICTORY
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He took her to Hubert Oval, the scene of the Jesse Owens incident,where they stood, hands in pockets. The track was stretched out infront of them. Only one thing could happen. Rudy started it.“Hundred meters,” he goaded her. “I bet you can’t beat me.”Liesel wasn’t taking any of that. “I bet you I can.”“What do
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RUDY STEINERHe was eight months older than Liesel and had bony legs, sharpteeth, gangly blue eyes, and hair the color of a lemon.One of six Steiner children, he was permanently hungry.On Himmel Street, he was considered a little crazy.This was on account of an event that was rarely spoken aboutbut widely regarded as “The Jesse
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get rid of all that fur? It’s everywhere!” Helena Schmidt was a rich widow. “That old cripple—sitting there just wasting away. She’s never had to do a day’s work in all her life.” Rosa’s greatest disdain, however, was reserved for 8 Grande Strasse. A large house, high on a hill, in the upper part of
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Those first few months were definitely the hardest. Every night, Liesel would nightmare. Her brother’s face. Staring at the floor. She would wake up swimming in her bed, screaming, and drowning in the flood of sheets. On the other side of the room, the bed that was meant for her brother floated boatlike in the
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She’d heard it several times in the past few years. “Communist.” There were boardinghouses crammed with people, rooms filled with questions. And that word. That strange word was always there somewhere, standing in the corner, watching from the dark. It wore suits, uniforms. No matter where they went, there it was, each time her father
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How could she move? That’s the sort of thing I’ll never know, or comprehend—what humans are capable of. She picked him up and continued walking, the girl clinging now to her side. Authorities were met and questions of lateness and the boy raised their vulnerable heads. Liesel remained in the corner of the small, dusty