Liesel is a firm believer that people should have books too, only she's not normally quite so polite about it. In Darrow things are a little different, though. She doesn't want for things here, for the most part. There's plenty of food and books and lots of room to explore, and so far everyone has been very nice to her. She doesn't need to steal, but sometimes when night falls and she's alone in her room, she misses it a little.
She remembers the hitch of her breath, the thud of her heart against her ribcage whenever she stole something. She remembers the way it made her feel powerful, like she was finally taking something back after everything was taken from her. Rudy never quite understood. He understood stealing well enough, but Rudy stole because he was hungry, because he wanted to impress Liesel and the older boys. For Liesel it's more about herself than the object or anybody else.
"Someone made me a book once," she tells him, her voice going a little quiet. There's no one in this city she's been able to talk to about Max. She doesn't know whether it's because it's never come up or because in some way she's still worried about saying his name aloud in case she gets in trouble, or somebody comes for him. But Max isn't here and there's no one to take him or Mama and Papa away anymore. "He painted it for me, but it didn't come here with me." The Word Shaker and The Standover Man are buried beneath layers of rubble, now, and she doesn't think she'll ever see the white painted-over pages ever again.
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She remembers the hitch of her breath, the thud of her heart against her ribcage whenever she stole something. She remembers the way it made her feel powerful, like she was finally taking something back after everything was taken from her. Rudy never quite understood. He understood stealing well enough, but Rudy stole because he was hungry, because he wanted to impress Liesel and the older boys. For Liesel it's more about herself than the object or anybody else.
"Someone made me a book once," she tells him, her voice going a little quiet. There's no one in this city she's been able to talk to about Max. She doesn't know whether it's because it's never come up or because in some way she's still worried about saying his name aloud in case she gets in trouble, or somebody comes for him. But Max isn't here and there's no one to take him or Mama and Papa away anymore. "He painted it for me, but it didn't come here with me." The Word Shaker and The Standover Man are buried beneath layers of rubble, now, and she doesn't think she'll ever see the white painted-over pages ever again.