The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

Sideways he tried to start the engine but there was

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Unformatted text preview: ookies 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. “Anything else? Any milk?” “What?” “Milk,” he repeated, a little louder this time. If he’d recognized the offended tone in Liesel’s voice, he certainly wasn’t showing it. The book thief’s face appeared above him again. “Are you stupid? Can I just steal the book?” “Of course. All I’m saying is . . .” Liesel moved toward the far shelf, behind the desk. She found some paper and a pen in the top drawer and wrote Thank you, leaving the note on top. To her right, a book protruded like a bone. Its paleness was almost scarred by the dark lettering of the title. Die Letzte Menschliche Fremde—The Last Human Stranger. It whispered softly as she removed it from the shelf. Some dust showered down. At the window, just as she was about to make her way out, the library door creaked apart. Her knee was up and her book-stealing hand was poised against the window frame. When she faced the noise, she found the mayor’s wife in a brand-new bathrobe and slippers. On the breast pocket of the robe sat an embroidered swastika. Propaganda even reached the bathroom. They watched each other. Liesel looked at Ilsa Hermann’s breast and raised her arm. “ Heil Hitler.” She was just about to leave when a realization struck her. The cookies. They’d been there for weeks. That meant that if the mayor himself used the library, he must have seen them. He must have asked why they were there. Or—and as soon as Liesel felt this thought, it filled her with a strange optimism—perhaps it wasn’t the mayor’s library at all; it was hers. I...
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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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