Page 163 of The Book Thief

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the refined suit. It also lit up the dirty shirt beneath and Rudy’s battered shoes.

“Well?” he asked.

Liesel continued the examination. She moved around him and shrugged. “Not bad.”

“Not bad! I look better than just not bad.”

“The shoes let you down. And your face.”

Rudy placed the lantern on the counter and came toward her in mock-anger, and Liesel had to admit that a nervousness started gripping her. It was with both relief and disappointment that she watched him trip and fall on the disgraced mannequin.

On the floor, Rudy laughed.

Then he closed his eyes, clenching them hard.

Liesel rushed over.

She crouched above him.

Kiss him, Liesel, kiss him.

“Are you all right, Rudy? Rudy?”

“I miss him,” said the boy, sideways, across the floor.

“Frohe Weihnachten,” Liesel replied. She helped him up, straightening the suit. “Merry Christmas.”

PART NINE

the last human stranger

featuring:

the next temptation—a cardplayer—

the snows of stalingrad—an ageless

brother—an accident—the bitter taste

of questions—a toolbox, a bleeder,

a bear—a broken plane—

and a homecoming

THE NEXT TEMPTATION

This time, there were cookies.

But they were stale.

They were Kipferl left over from Christmas, and they’d been sitting on the desk for at least two weeks. Like miniature horseshoes with a layer of icing sugar, the ones on the bottom were bolted to the plate. The rest were piled on top, forming a chewy mound. She could already smell them when her fingers tightened on the window ledge. The room tasted like sugar and dough, and thousands of pages.

There was no note, but it didn’t take Liesel long to realize that Ilsa Hermann had been at it again, and she certainly wasn’t taking the chance that the cookies might not be for her. She made her way back to the window and passed a whisper through the gap. The whisper’s name was Rudy.

They’d gone on foot that day because the road was too slippery for bikes. The boy was beneath the window, standing watch. When she called out, his face appeared, and she presented him with the plate. He didn’t need much convincing to take it.

His eyes feasted on the cookies and he asked a few questions.


Tags: Markus Zusak Historical