Page 352 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 341

“And we’ll drive up those streets, the ones where all you see is
the hood of the car and the sky?”
“Every single one of them,” I said. My eyes stung with tears
and I blinked them away.
“Is English hard to learn?”
“I say, within a year, you’ll speak it as well as Farsi.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I placed a finger under his chin, turned his face up to
mine. “There is one other thing, Sohrab.”
“What?”
“Well, Mr. Faisal thinks that it would really help if we could . . .
if we could ask you to stay in a home for kids for a while.”
“Home for kids?” he said, his smile fading. “You mean an or-
phanage?”
“It would only be for a little while.”
“No,” he said. “No, please.”
“Sohrab, it would be for just a little while. I promise.”
“You promised you’d never put me in one of those places, Amir
agha,” he said. His voice was breaking, tears pooling in his eyes. I
felt like a prick.
“This is different. It would be here, in Islamabad, not in
Kabul. And I’d visit you all the time until we can get you out and
take you to America.”
“Please! Please, no!” he croaked. “I’m scared of that place.
They’ll hurt me! I don’t want to go.”
“No one is going to hurt you. Not ever again.”
“Yes they will! They always say they won’t but they lie. They
lie! Please, God!”
I wiped the tear streaking down his cheek with my thumb.
“Sour apples, remember? It’s just like the sour apples,” I said
softly.