The Book Thief

“Richtig.” It was a chorus.

TWO DEBUTANT APPLE THIEVES,

WHISPERING

“Liesel—are you sure? Do you still want to do this?”

“Look at the barbed wire, Rudy. It’s so high.”

“No, no, look, you throw the sack on. See? Like them.”

“All right.”

“Come on then!”

“I can’t!” Hesitation. “Rudy, I—”

“Move it, Saumensch!”

He pushed her toward the fence, threw the empty sack on the wire, and they climbed over, running toward the others. Rudy made his way up the closest tree and started flinging down the apples. Liesel stood below, putting them into the sack. By the time it was full, there was another problem.

“How do we get back over the fence?”

The answer came when they noticed Arthur Berg climbing as close to a fence post as possible. “The wire’s stronger there.” Rudy pointed. He threw the sack over, made Liesel go first, then landed beside her on the other side, among the fruit that spilled from the bag.

Next to them, the long legs of Arthur Berg stood watching in amusement.

“Not bad,” landed the voice from above. “Not bad at all.”

When they made it back to the river, hidden among the trees, he took the sack and gave Liesel and Rudy a dozen apples between them.

“Good work,” was his final comment on the matter.

That afternoon, before they returned home, Liesel and Rudy consumed six apples apiece within half an hour. At first, they entertained thoughts of sharing the fruit at their respective homes, but there was considerable danger in that. They didn’t particularly relish the opportunity of explaining just where the fruit had come from. Liesel even thought that perhaps she could get away with only telling Papa, but she didn’t want him thinking that he had a compulsive criminal on his hands. So she ate.

On the riverbank where she learned to swim, each apple was disposed of. Unaccustomed to such luxury, they knew it was likely they’d be sick.

They ate anyway.

“Saumensch!” Mama abused her that night. “Why are you vomiting so much?”

“Maybe it’s the pea soup,” Liesel suggested.

“That’s right,” Papa echoed. He was over at the window again. “It must be. I feel a bit sick myself.”

“Who asked you, Saukerl?” Quickly, she turned back to face the vomiting Saumensch. “Well? What is it? What is it, you filthy pig?”

But Liesel?

She said nothing.

The apples, she thought happily. The apples, and she vomited one more time, for luck.

THE ARYAN SHOPKEEPER

They stood outside Frau Diller’s, against the whitewashed wall.

Apiece of candy was in Liesel Meminger’s mouth.