The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini Read Free Book Online Page B

what it is?”
    I shook my head. He’d tell me anyway; Assef always answered his own questions.
    His blue eyes flicked to Hassan. “Afghanistan is the land of Pashtuns. It always has been, always will be. We are the true
     Afghans, the pure Afghans, not this Flat-Nose here. His people pollute our homeland, our watan. They dirty our blood.” He made a sweeping, grandiose gesture with his hands. “Afghanistan for Pashtuns, I say. That’s my vision.”
    Assef shifted his gaze to me again. He looked like someone coming out of a good dream. “Too late for Hitler,” he said. “But
     not for us.”
    He reached for something from the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ll ask the president to do what the king didn’t have the quwat to do. To rid Afghanistan of all the dirty, kasseef Hazaras.”
    “Just let us go, Assef,” I said, hating the way my voice trembled. “We’re not bothering you.” “We’re not bothering you.”
    “Oh, you’re bothering me,” Assef said. And I saw with a sinking heart what he had fished out of his pocket. Of course. His
     stainless-steel brass knuckles sparkled in the sun. “You’re bothering me very much. In fact, you bother me more than this
     Hazara here. How can you talk to him, play with him, let him touch you?” he said, his voice dripping with disgust. Wali and
     Kamal nodded and grunted in agreement. Assef narrowed his eyes. Shook his head. When he spoke again, he sounded as baffled
     as he looked. “How can you call him your ‘friend’?”
    But he’s not my friend! I almost blurted. He’s my servant! Had I really thought that? Of course I hadn’t. I hadn’t. I treated Hassan well, just like a friend, better even, more like
     a brother. But if so, then why, when Baba’s friends came to visit with their kids, didn’t I ever include Hassan in our games?
     Why did I play with Hassan only when no one else was around?
    Assef slipped on the brass knuckles. Gave me an icy look. “You’re part of the problem, Amir. If idiots like you and your father
     didn’t take these people in, we’d be rid of them by now. They’d all just go rot in Hazarajat where they belong. You’re a disgrace
     to Afghanistan.”
    I looked in his crazy eyes and saw that he meant it. He really meant to hurt me. Assef raised his fist and came for me.
    There was a flurry of rapid movement behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hassan bend down and stand up quickly.
     Assef ’s eyes flicked to something behind me and widened with surprise. I saw that same look of astonishment on Kamal and
     Wali’s faces as they too saw what had happened behind me.
    I turned and came face to face with Hassan’s slingshot. Hassan had pulled the wide elastic band all the way back. In the cup
     was a rock the size of a walnut. Hassan held the slingshot pointed directly at Assef ’s face. His hand trembled with the strain
     of the pulled elastic band and beads of sweat had erupted on his brow.
    “Please leave us alone, Agha,” Hassan said in a flat tone. He’d referred to Assef as “Agha,” and I wondered briefly what it
     must be like to live with such an ingrained sense of one’s place in a hierarchy.
    Assef gritted his teeth. “Put it down, you motherless Hazara.”
    “Please leave us be, Agha,” Hassan said.
    Assef smiled. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but there are three of us and two of you.”
    Hassan shrugged. To an outsider, he didn’t look scared. But Hassan’s face was my earliest memory and I knew all of its subtle
     nuances, knew each and every twitch and flicker that ever rippled across it. And I saw that he was scared. He was scared plenty.
    “You are right, Agha. But perhaps you didn’t notice that I’m the one holding the slingshot. If you make a move, they’ll have
     to change your nickname from Assef ‘the Ear Eater’ to ‘One-Eyed Assef,’ because I have this rock pointed at your left eye.”
     He said this so flatly that even I had to strain to hear the fear that I knew hid