The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

Liesel tried to eat hers down the taste of heart was

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Unformatted text preview: g’s good.” Shivering, she climbed from the mattress. Stupid with fear, she walked through the hallway to Max. After many minutes at his side, when everything slowed, she attempted to interpret the dream. Was it a premonition of Max’s death? Or was it merely a reaction to the afternoon conversation in the kitchen? Had Max now replaced her brother? And if so, how could she discard her own flesh and blood in such a way? Perhaps it was even a deep-seated wish for Max to die. After all, if it was good enough for Werner, her brother, it was good enough for this Jew. “Is that what you think?” she whispered, standing above the bed. “No.” She could not believe it. Her answer was sustained as the numbness of the dark waned and outlined the various shapes, big and small, on the bedside table. The presents. “Wake up,” she said. Max did not wake up. For eight more days. At school, there was a rapping of knuckles on the door. “Come in,” called Frau Olendrich. The door opened and the entire classroom of children looked on in surprise as Rosa Hubermann stood in the doorway. One or two gasped at the sight—a small wardrobe of a woman with a lipstick sneer and chlorine eyes. This. Was the legend. She was wearing her best clothes, but her hair was a mess, and it was a towel of elastic gray strands. The teacher was obviously afraid. “Frau Hubermann . . .” Her movements were cluttered. She searched through the class. “Liesel?” Liesel looked at Rudy, stood, and walked quickly toward the door to end the embarrassment as fast as possible. It shut behind her, and now she was alone, in the corridor, with Rosa. Rosa faced the other way. “What, Mama?” She turned. “Don’t you ‘what Mama’ me, you little Saumensch !” Liesel was gored by the speed of it. “My hairbrush!” A trickle of laughter rolled from under the door, but it was drawn instantly back. “Mama?” Her face was severe, but it was smiling. “What the hell did you do with my hairbrush, you stupid Saumensch, you little thief ? I’ve told you a hundred times to leave th...
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This note was uploaded on 01/17/2014 for the course ENG 99 taught by Professor Michal during the Winter '13 term at CSU Sacramento.

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