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He’d stolen the book from the school library in Berlin because the cover had a cool car on it. Now, three weeks later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of a stolen Lada, somewhere near Lelystad, with a Russian-German juvenile delinquent named Tschick at the wheel. The original plan—to drive to Wallachia—had gone off the rails somewhere around the German-Dutch border. Now they were lost, low on gas, and Tschick had just announced they were going to steal a boat.
"I think page 51 is where we finally get it right." tschick nederlandse versie pdf 51
Tschick stared at him for a long second. Then he laughed—a real laugh, not the sharp, defensive one he usually used. He kicked open the car door and stepped out into the wet grass. He’d stolen the book from the school library
"Read it again," Tschick said, not taking his eyes off the dike road. His sleeveless shirt was streaked with motor oil. "Page fifty-one. The part about the bend." Now they were lost, low on gas, and
"Tschick," he said.
"See?" Tschick grinned, showing a missing molar. "Even the book says so. And it's the Dutch version. Dutch people know about dikes. It's practically a prophecy."
"Come on, Klingenberg. Let's go see what's around the bend. On foot."