“Ready,” she answered.
They began to leave the scene of the crime, and the book was well and truly burning her now. The Shoulder Shrug had applied itself to her rib cage.
As they walked past the precarious town hall shadows, the book thief winced.
“What’s wrong?” Papa asked.
“Nothing.”
Quite a few things, however, were most definitely wrong:
Smoke was rising out of Liesel’s collar.
A necklace of sweat had formed around her throat.
Beneath her shirt, a book was eating her up.
PART THREE
mein kampf
featuring:
the way home—a broken woman—a struggler—
a juggler—the attributes of summer—
an aryan shopkeeper—a snorer—two tricksters—
and revenge in the shape of mixed candy
THE WAY HOME
Mein Kampf.
The book penned by the Führer himself.
It was the third book of great importance to reach Liesel Meminger; only this time, she did not steal it. The book showed up at 33 Himmel Street perhaps an hour after Liesel had drifted back to sleep from her obligatory nightmare.
Some would say it was a miracle that she ever owned that book at all.
Its journey began on the way home, the night of the fire.
They were nearly halfway back to Himmel Street when Liesel could no longer take it. She bent over and removed the smoking book, allowing it to hop sheepishly from hand to hand.
When it had cooled sufficiently, they both watched it a moment, waiting for the words.
Papa: “What the hell do you call that?”
He reached over and grabbed hold of The Shoulder Shrug. No explanation was required. It was obvious that the girl had stolen it from the fire. The book was hot and wet, blue and red—embarrassed—and Hans Hubermann opened it up. Pages thirty-eight and thirty-nine. “Another one?”
Liesel rubbed her ribs.
Yes.
Another one.
“Looks like,” Papa suggested, “I don’t need to trade any more cigarettes, do I? Not when you’re stealing these things as fast as I can buy them.”