The Book Thief Part 48

A gargantuan brown-shirted official informed the group that there was one lap to go. He certainly wasn't suffering under the ration system. He called out as the lead pack crossed the line, and it was not the second boy who accelerated, but the fourth. And he was two hundred meters early.

Rudy ran.

He did not look back at any stage.

Like an elastic rope, he lengthened his lead until any thought of someone else winning snapped altogether. He took himself around the track as the three runners behind him fought each other for the sc.r.a.ps. In the homestretch, there was nothing but blond hair and s.p.a.ce, and when he crossed the line, he didn't stop. He didn't raise his arm. There wasn't even a bent-over relief. He simply walked another twenty meters and eventually looked over his shoulder to watch the others cross the line.

On the way back to his family, he met first with his leaders and then with Franz Deutscher. They both nodded.

"Steiner."

"Deutscher."

"Looks like all those laps I gave you paid off, huh?"

"Looks like it."

He would not smile until he'd won all four.

A POINT FOR LATER REFERENCE.

Not only was Rudy recognized now as a good

school student. He was a gifted athlete, too.

For Liesel, there was the 400. She finished seventh, then fourth in her heat of the 200. All she could see up ahead were the hamstrings and bobbing ponytails of the girls in front. In the long jump, she enjoyed the sand packed around her feet more than any distance, and the shot put wasn't her greatest moment, either. This day, she realized, was Rudy's.

In the 400 final, he led from the backstretch to the end, and he won the 200 only narrowly.

"You getting tired?" Liesel asked him. It was early afternoon by then.

"Of course not." He was breathing heavily and stretching his calves. "What are you talking about, Saumensch? What the h.e.l.l would you know?"

When the heats of the 100 were called, he rose slowly to his feet and followed the trail of adolescents toward the track. Liesel went after him. "Hey, Rudy." She pulled at his shirtsleeve. "Good luck."

"I'm not tired," he said.

"I know."

He winked at her.

He was tired.

In his heat, Rudy slowed to finish second, and after ten minutes of other races, the final was called. Two other boys had looked formidable, and Liesel had a feeling in her stomach that Rudy could not win this one. Tommy Mller, who'd finished second to last in his heat, stood with her at the fence. "He'll win it," he informed her.

"I know."

No, he won't.

When the finalists reached the starting line, Rudy dropped to his knees and began digging starting holes with his hands. A balding brownshirt wasted no time in walking over and telling him to cut it out. Liesel watched the adult finger, pointing, and she could see the dirt falling to the ground as Rudy brushed his hands together.

When they were called forward, Liesel tightened her grip on the fence. One of the boys false-started; the gun was shot twice. It was Rudy. Again, the official had words with him and the boy nodded. Once more and he was out.

Set for the second time, Liesel watched with concentration, and for the first few seconds, she could not believe what she was seeing. Another false start was recorded and it was the same athlete who had done it. In front of her, she created a perfect race, in which Rudy trailed but came home to win in the last ten meters. What she actually saw, however, was Rudy's disqualification. He was escorted to the side of the track and was made to stand there, alone, as the remainder of boys stepped forward.

They lined up and raced.

A boy with rusty brown hair and a big stride won by at least five meters.

Rudy remained.

Later, when the day was complete and the sun was taken from Himmel Street, Liesel sat with her friend on the footpath.

They talked about everything else, from Franz Deutscher's face after the 1500 to one of the eleven-year-old girls having a tantrum after losing the discus.

Before they proceeded to their respective homes, Rudy's voice reached over and handed Liesel the truth. For a while, it sat on her shoulder, but a few thoughts later, it made its way to her ear.

RUDY'S VOICE

"I did it on purpose."

When the confession registered, Liesel asked the only question available. "But why, Rudy? Why did you do it?"

He was standing with a hand on his hip, and he did not answer. There was nothing but a knowing smile and a slow walk that lolled him home. They never talked about it again.

For Liesel's part, she often wondered what Rudy's answer might have been had she pushed him. Perhaps three medals had shown what he'd wanted to show, or he was afraid to lose that final race. In the end, the only explanation she allowed herself to hear was an inner teenage voice.

"Because he isn't Jesse Owens."

Only when she got up to leave did she notice the three imitation-gold medals sitting next to her. She knocked on the Steiners' door and held them out to him. "You forgot these."

"No, I didn't." He closed the door and Liesel took the medals home. She walked with them down to the bas.e.m.e.nt and told Max about her friend Rudy Steiner.

"He truly is stupid," she concluded.

"Clearly," Max agreed, but I doubt he was fooled.

They both started work then, Max on his sketchbook, Liesel on The Dream Carrier. She was in the latter stages of the novel, where the young priest was doubting his faith after meeting a strange and elegant woman.

When she placed it facedown on her lap, Max asked when she thought she'd finish it.

"A few days at the most."

"Then a new one?"

The book thief looked at the bas.e.m.e.nt ceiling. "Maybe, Max." She closed the book and leaned back. "If I'm lucky."

THE NEXT BOOK.

It's not the Duden Dictionary and

Thesaurus, as you might be expecting.

No, the dictionary comes at the end of this small trilogy, and this is only the second installment. This is the part where Liesel finishes The Dream Carrier and steals a story called A Song in the Dark. As always, it was taken from the mayor's house. The only difference was that she made her way to the upper part of town alone. There was no Rudy that day.

It was a morning rich with both sun and frothy clouds.

Liesel stood in the mayor's library with greed in her fingers and book t.i.tles at her lips. She was comfortable enough on this occasion to run her fingers along the shelves-a short replay of her original visit to the room-and she whispered many of the t.i.tles as she made her way along.

Under the Cherry Tree.

The Tenth Lieutenant.

Typically, many of the t.i.tles tempted her, but after a good minute or two in the room, she settled for A Song in the Dark, most likely because the book was green, and she did not yet own a book of that color. The engraved writing on the cover was white, and there was a small insignia of a flute between the t.i.tle and the name of the author. She climbed with it from the window, saying thanks on her way out.

Without Rudy, she felt a good degree of absence, but on that particular morning, for some reason, the book thief was happiest alone. She went about her work and read the book next to the Amper River, far enough away from the occasional headquarters of Viktor Chemmel and the previous gang of Arthur Berg. No one came, no one interrupted, and Liesel read four of the very short chapters of A Song in the Dark, and she was happy.

It was the pleasure and satisfaction.

Of good stealing.

A week later, the trilogy of happiness was completed.

In the last days of August, a gift arrived, or in fact, was noticed.

It was late afternoon. Liesel was watching Kristina Mller jumping rope on Himmel Street. Rudy Steiner skidded to a stop in front of her on his brother's bike. "Do you have some time?" he asked.

She shrugged. "For what?"

"I think you'd better come." He dumped the bike and went to collect the other one from home. In front of her, Liesel watched the pedal spin.

They rode up to Grande Stra.s.se, where Rudy stopped and waited.

"Well," Liesel asked, "what is it?"

Rudy pointed. "Look closer."

Gradually, they rode to a better position, behind a blue spruce tree. Through the p.r.i.c.kly branches, Liesel noticed the closed window, and then the object leaning on the gla.s.s.

"Is that ...?"

Rudy nodded.

They debated the issue for many minutes before they agreed it needed to be done. It had obviously been placed there intentionally, and if it was a trap, it was worth it.

Among the powdery blue branches, Liesel said, "A book thief would do it."

She dropped the bike, observed the street, and crossed the yard. The shadows of clouds were buried among the dusky gra.s.s. Were they holes for falling into, or patches of extra darkness for hiding in? Her imagination sent her sliding down one of those holes into the evil clutches of the mayor himself. If nothing else, those thoughts distracted her and she was at the window even quicker than she'd hoped.

It was like The Whistler all over again.

Her nerves licked her palms.