Page 380 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 369

the string out for him, his hand lifted from his pocket. Hesitated.
Took the string. My heart quickened as I spun the spool to gather
the loose string. We stood quietly side by side. Necks bent up.
Around us, kids chased each other, slid on the grass. Someone
was playing an old Hindi movie soundtrack now. A line of elderly
men were praying afternoon namaz on a plastic sheet spread on
the ground. The air smelled of wet grass, smoke, and grilled meat.
I wished time would stand still.
Then I saw we had company. A green kite was closing in. I
traced the string to a kid standing about thirty yards from us. He
had a crew cut and a T-shirt that read THE ROCK RULES in bold
block letters. He saw me looking at him and smiled. Waved. I
waved back.
Sohrab was handing the string back to me.
“Are you sure?” I said, taking it.
He took the spool from me.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s give him a sabagh, teach him a lesson,
nay?” I glanced over at him. The glassy, vacant look in his eyes was
gone. His gaze flitted between our kite and the green one. His
face was a little flushed, his eyes suddenly alert. Awake. Alive. I
wondered when I had forgotten that, despite everything, he was
still just a child.
The green kite was making its move. “Let’s wait,” I said. “We’ll
let him get a little closer.” It dipped twice and crept toward us.
“Come on. Come to me,” I said.
The green kite drew closer yet, now rising a little above us,
unaware of the trap I’d set for it. “Watch, Sohrab. I’m going to
show you one of your father’s favorite tricks, the old lift-and-dive.”
Next to me, Sohrab was breathing rapidly through his nose.
The spool rolled in his palms, the tendons in his scarred wrists
like rubab strings. Then I blinked and, for just a moment, the