Page 108 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 97

wit to joke with an adult. But to me, his eyes betrayed him. When
I looked into them, the facade faltered, revealed a glimpse of the
madness hiding behind them.
“Aren’t you going to take it, Amir?” Baba was saying.
“Huh?”
“Your present,” he said testily. “Assef jan is giving you a present.”
“Oh,” I said. I took the box from Assef and lowered my gaze. I
wished I could be alone in my room, with my books, away from
these people.
“Well?” Baba said.
“What?”
Baba spoke in a low voice, the one he took on whenever I
embarrassed him in public. “Aren’t you going to thank Assef jan?
That was very considerate of him.”
I wished Baba would stop calling him that. How often did he
call me “Amir jan”? “Thanks,” I said. Assef’s mother looked at me
like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t, and I realized
that neither of Assef’s parents had said a word. Before I could
embarrass myself and Baba anymore—but mostly to get away
from Assef and his grin—I stepped away. “Thanks for coming,” I
said.
I squirmed my way through the throng of guests and slipped
through the wrought-iron gates. Two houses down from our
house, there was a large, barren dirt lot. I’d heard Baba tell Rahim
Khan that a judge had bought the land and that an architect was
working on the design. For now, the lot was bare, save for dirt,
stones, and weeds.
I tore the wrapping paper from Assef’s present and tilted the
book cover in the moonlight. It was a biography of Hitler. I threw
it amid a tangle of weeds.
I leaned against the neighbor’s wall, slid down to the ground. I