Chapter 4

It was a hot and humid mid-afternoon and Amir was still in bed. Thin rays of sunlight shone through the closed curtains. The room was very still and silent. The sound of Baba's radio could be heard through the walls. Downstairs the clangs and bangs of Ali and Hassan working in the kitchen could be heard.

'They're probably making lunch.' Amir thought to himself.

As if on cue his stomach began to grumble loudly. He was really hungry, now that he thought about it he hadn't eaten all day. His head was swarming with all sort of different thoughts. Amir hadn't done anything but lay in his bed all week. The only times he came out was when he had to go to school, he would come home, and immediately go to his room. Ali, Baba, and Hassan had asked him what was wrong all week. 'Nothing's wrong', he'd say. But it was all a lie. His mind was too preoccupied with the events that had happened the previous week.

A week ago he had kissed Assef. He still couldn't believe it. It seemed more like a dream or a nightmare than reality. Nothing was going to be the same anymore. He would have thought the idea preposterous if he had not lived it in the flesh, had he not felt the soft lips on his own, his warm breath on his flushing checks. That kiss had opened a door to a world that Amir had only had glimpses of or faint ideas about. It was the world of relationships. (Dum-Dum-Dumm!)

Amir was only twelve years old and had already had that embarrassing 'talk' with Baba. It had been a gruesome ordeal. Amir was sitting across from Baba at the latter's desk. Sweating profusely, heart beating rapidly, he stared at his hands for the most part, stealing random glances at Baba. And for the first time, Baba too, seemed nervous. It was such a strange sight, it made him almost happy had he not been in such a position. Baba gulped, played around with a cup of Brandi in his hands, twirling left to right, studying the light that would bounce of the diamond motif carved into the glass. He took a hanker-chief form his breast pocket and wiped his brow. Taking a swing of Brandi he took a deep breath and began the horrible speech.

It made him feel, closer to Baba, but this wasn't the way that he wanted to feel connected to him. It made him nervous but what he was feeling wasn't normal.

In science class he had learned about the human anatomy and the changes one undergoes during puberty. But he wasn't sure what was happening to him. It wasn't something physical; it was more of an emotional shift that had taken place within him. It was normal for boys to like girls, but for a boy to like another boy? That was unheard of. Or, at least, not something that one tended to hear being discussed at the bazaar. Amir had read books like that. Secrets books that had once belonged to his mother but that were supposed to be hidden. Amir had discovered them two years ago when Ali and Hassan had been cleaning out the garage one day. He had taken them without Baba's permission. He knew it was wrong and he would get punished severely, but he needed something of his mother. Something he could hold and help him know who is mother was. So he went into Baba's room and inside the bottom drawer he found a stack of old papers. He looked at them with such interest; the small print was soft and written in beautiful cursive with such delicate strokes, it was barely readable but just enough to where he could fall in love with these stories. They told the stories of young men and their lovers. Their relationships were kept a secret-it was forbidden, the mullah's said. Amir thought it was odd and wondered why his mother had written such stories. If they really loved each other, why couldn't they be together? Why would his mother do such things, why would she? Amir was still too young to understand that prejudice extended far beyond the realm of race. You could hate people for a lot more reasons than just being a Hazara, and his mother knew.

Someone knocked on the door, startling Amir, who was deep in thought.

"Amir-jan," it was Ali, "are you coming down for lunch or do I just send Hassan up here with your food?"

"I'll go down, Ali. Just give me a minute." Amir said after a few seconds. He might as well, if not then everyone would get much more nervous and worried then they should.

"All right Amir-jan." Ali sounded relieved. "The table is ready and set. Come down whenever you want."

Amir listened while Ali walked away. The customary thumping sound of his limp leg scraping against the carpet soon faded away as he left the hall. Amir sighed; he had to get out of this funk. He couldn't stay this way forever.

He dragged himself out of bed and put his blue slippers on. Reaching for the door, he took the knob and turned it, opening it. He took one last look at his room and sighed. Tomorrow was Monday, which meant school, which meant a certain encounter with Assef.

For some reason his heart was thumping very loudly.

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Monday Morning

Amir sat at the table eating his breakfast. Naan with pomegranate jelly-his favorite. Hassan stood to the side ironing Amir's clothes, humming an old Hazara song. It felt like a typical Monday and Amir felt grateful. After being in such a foul mood for the whole week, Amir was happy that things were going back to normal. Or so it felt that way.

"So, Amir-jan," Hassan said while he packed Amir's lunch, "do you want to go to the movies afterschool today? I heard their playing a new Clint Eastwood movie at the Armaya Theater today." Hassan sounded excited and smiled with anticipation.

"That sounds like fun." Amir said. "Will Ali let you go though? I thought you had to help him with the corn today."

"I already talked to him and he said it was alright. He's pretty much giving up on the corn growing. They sprout but they always wither and die." Hassan said, he looked a little sad. Hassan never liked it when things died.

One time, when they were little, Amir received a detective kit for his birthday, with it came a large magnifying glass. He and Hassan went outside to see how small objects would look like up close. It was just simple curiosity, nothing harmful. They sat in the middle of the garage runway, looking at a line of ants as they marched their way through towards their large mound. Amir pointed the magnifying glass towards the ants. Watching in wonder as the little ants became giants in the line.

It was a hot summer and the sun was high in the sky that day. By accident, Amir tilted the magnifying glass in such a way that the sun rays passed through the glass, making a scorching bean of light fall upon the ants. To Amir's surprise and Hassan's horror, the ants began to burn up. Slowing burning away until they were reduced to scorched little husks, one by one all the ants began to fall and perish.

Hassan couldn't take it anymore and removed Amir's hand. Amir yanked it away.

"What's the matter with you?" Amir yelled.

"Please stop, Amir-jan." Hassan said desperately. "You're killing the ants."

"So?" Amir interjected. "It's not like they feel anything."

"That's not true Amir-jan." Hassan tried to explain. "They are Allah's creatures too; they feel as much as you or I do."

"Don't be stupid Hassan." Amir said. "If Allah had intended that the ants wouldn't be killed by a ray of light, he would have created them to withstand it."

Amir raised his magnifying glass and continued to burn the ants. Hassan, not able to bear it any longer, walked away and began to pray to Allah so that the ant's souls could reach safely to heaven.

"All right." Amir said. "I'll ask Baba for money when I get back from school."

"Amir!" Baba cried just then from his study. "Hurry up! I have to get to an important meeting right away and you're going to be late for school." While he finished eating his Naan, Baba came and pocked his head through the archway. He motioned to Amir to hurry up and then left.

Hassan gave Amir his packed lunch and said: "Have a nice day Amir-jan."

"Thanks." He said. "After we watch the movie we can play cowboys and Indians in the backyard."

Hassan smiled. "I'd really like that, Amir-jan."

And with that Amir was off. He got into Baba's 1971 black Mustang. They soared trough the tight streets of Kabul, blaring Indy music as they went. Baba was a bit of a reckless driver, but he had a form control over the vehicle. He felt safe, sitting alongside Baba. All the kids at Amir's schooled admired Baba's car and he couldn't blame them. It was one of the few American brand named cars in all of Kabul. Amir felt a sense of superiority when he rode alongside Baba. He felt like he was the king of the road, and that nothing could challenge him. A feeling that he never really got to feel on his own that often.

They made it to Amir's school in only a few minutes. Baba had given his ok for him and Hassan to go to the Armaya Theatre after school. Baba would pick him up and then he could walk the rest of the way with Hassan, seeing as the theater was fairly close to where they lived. Amir said goodbye to Baba. And just as he entered the school door, the bell rang.

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In The School

Amir was anxious that day at school. He kept looking at the clock waiting for it to ring. He wasn't really paying attention to what the mullah was saying. They were memorizing some Arabic passages from the Koran that day. It was a difficult language and you had to stay attentive in order not to stumble on the words. But Amir wasn't really speaking the words, he was just miming them. What was the point or memorizing so many passages in Arabic? He didn't even understand what he was saying. It was pointless to him.

That was one of Baba's favorite key points to discuss whenever someone asked why he never went to azan. He would simply say that he didn't see the point in going to the mosque to kneel down with a bunch of sweaty men to recite prayers he didn't even understand. But if that person happened to be a mullah, he would just say he had week knees and couldn't stand the pain that came along with kneeling on the floor so long.

The majority of people in Kabul knew that Baba didn't have knee problems-the mullah's knew it too. In any case, Amir was desperate; he hadn't seen Assef in little over a week. He had gotten into a fight with some kid. For that reason, he had gotten suspended for a week. Amir didn't even know what the fight had been about, nor did he care. All he knew was that he felt a strange pang in his stomach and he so desperately wanted to get rid of it, fast.

Just then the clock rang, announcing recess. Amir packed his books and got his lunch getting ready to go outside. As he walked out the classroom's door he got sneak peak at Assef walking out of his classroom.

'So he's back.' Amir thought. 'And he looks ok. That's good. I wouldn't want him to get hurt too badly. Wait? What am I saying? What do I care if Assef gets hurt or not. He's a bully; he deserves every punch he gets.'

Amir was debating with himself again. This is what had been happening all last week. Amir was desperately trying to figure his feelings for Assef. Did he like him? Did he hate him? Assef wasn't a kind person, that much was pretty obvious. He would make fun of Ali and Hassan because they were Hazaras-but so did the majority of the boys in the school-so Assef's behavior there wasn't really out of the normal. He was condescending, and he wasn't afraid to oppose anybody who didn't agree with his views. But he was able to get out of trouble fairly easily with his people's skills. When Assef wasn't being menacing, he could be really flattering when he wanted to be.

But then there was that feeling in the pit of Amir's stomach every time he saw Assef. It was tingly sensation, almost as if someone was tickling the deepest innards of his stomach. It didn't feel bad, but it didn't feel good either. It would make him nervous and warm at the same time.

These feelings were causing so much confusion in Amir's head, it was like a twirling tornado inside of his mind. And seeing him here just made it so much worse.

Just then Assef turned and saw Amir. He smiled, his smile was warm, but the effect was slightly marred by that glint in his eyes. Whenever that glint was, it showed up in Assef's eyes, and you knew that he was up to no good. He motioned for Amir to follow him and then turned to the left, walking down the hallway in the opposite direction of the court yard.

Amir gulped, it was never a wise thing to disobey Assef. He followed, he felt like a lamp being sacrificed for the New Year. And that wasn't a pretty sight.

Amir rounded a corner and found Assef standing next to a deserted classroom. He opened the door and walked inside, Amir just stood in the darken hallway, what should he do? If a mullah or a student happened to walk by and find them in the classroom they would get in serious trouble. What would Baba think if he received a call from the school that Amir had been caught in an empty classroom during recess doing-doing what?

"Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to come in?" Assef asked imperiously.

Amir sighed. "I'm coming. But you don't have to treat me like a servant."

"I don't have to treat you like a servant, but it seems that speaking roughly to you is the only way you ever react to anything." Assef said, sounding almost defensive. "Don't forget to shut the door, servant," putting emphasis on the last word.

Amir shut the door and turned to Assef. "What do you want? Why are we in this dark room?" He asked.

"Did you miss me?" Assef asked, blowing away Amir's previous questions.

"What?" Amir asked, confused.

"I asked did you miss me. I was gone an entire week thanks to that idiotic Fahran." He said the latter's name with a snarl. "Besides, Kamal and Wali told me you were all zoomed out last week." With a smile he stepped closer to Amir. "They said you looked almost sad." He laughed. "So tell me, Amir-jan, how much did you really miss me?"

Amir gulped, he had totally forgotten about Kamal and Wali, they were Assef's own personal spies. Everything he said or did would be instantly reported to Assef.

Assef drew nearer and Amir tried to back away. But soon he was stopped by the door he had been standing next to. The door knob hit his back with a sharp cry from Amir, but he didn't say one word. He just looked up at Assef, his blue eyes twinkling slightly.

"What? Don't tell me you have become a mute all of a sudden. That won't due, Amir-jan. While I'll admit, you aren't the brightest boy, I do indeed like listening to your voice."

Amir remained silent and just backed up even more against the door. The door knob pressed even more into his skin,.

Assef continued advancing until he was face to face with Amir.

"Please, Amir-jan, speak to me." He sounded like he was pleading-almost. "It's been a week. Seven days since I last saw your face, your voice. And you know?" He said, tantalizingly raising his hand to cup Amir's cheek. "While I was suspended I had a lot of time to think about things. And the only thing my mind kept on going back to was to you." He lowered his head putting his lips next to Amir's ear. "I haven't stopped thinking it."

Amir was paralyzed. He was literally stuck between a door and a hard place. Outside the door lied the possibility of being caught and getting a beating by the head mullah and his trusty stick. Or Assef. He didn't know which one he proffered.

He was sweating and he could smell Assef. Really smell Assef. He smelled slightly of chlorine, likely because he spent so much time swimming in his pool, but also of saffron and mint. It was strong but not overwhelming.

'Damn this kid.' Assef thought. 'It's only been a week and I haven't been able to get him out of my head.'

Assef was close enough so he could smell Amir too. 'He smells like pomegranates. He always smells like pomegranates.'

Just then Assef couldn't take it anymore and kissed Amir. Amir dropped his lunch bag on the ground. He was shocked, if only for a few seconds, then he wrapped his arms around Assef and starting kissing him back tenderly.

Assef seemed to transform into a different person when he kissed Amir. He was sweet, almost caring.

'This isn't him.' Amir thought. 'This isn't the real him, or could it?'

Eventually they had to break apart for air. They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms huffing slightly. Assef pressed his head against Amir's forehead and looked at him.

'He has such a cute face.' Assef thought. 'I don't know what's wrong with me. But I need more of this.'

"Amir-jan." He said.

"Yes, Assef-agha?" Amir said.

'That's odd.' Amir thought. 'I called him agha.'

'That's odd.' Assef thought. 'He called him agha. But I kinda like it.'

Assef smiled. "Listen Amir, I was thinking that maybe we could go to the Armaya Theater together this weekend. There's this new Clint Eastwood movie showing."

"Umm..well.." Amir liked the sound of that, to spend a day, all alone with Assef in a public place. He was just about to speak, to say yes when he thought about the earlier day.

Amir made a clicking sound in his throat; he had already promised Hassan that he was going to see the new Clint Eastwood movie with him later on that day. But as much as he hated to admit it, he would much rather go with Assef.

"Well," Amir started. "Baba and I were planning on seeing that movie today but I can lie and say that I'm sick so I can get out of it."

"You do that and tell me how it goes tomorrow. If all goes well we can go on Saturday. I'm sure agha Sahib will understand if you tell him you're going with me." He said with a proud smile.

Amir smiled back. "Very well. I'll let you know tomorrow. I'm sure Baba would approve."

"Hmm." Assef said and leaned in to give Amir another kiss. Just then the bell rang. "Damn. We better get out of here before the mullah's or the students enter the building." Assef said.

"Right." Amir said. He and Assef left the empty classroom. Assef walked Amir to his class. Kamal and Wali were standing in the hallway. They looked at Assef, they expected him to do or say something negative to Amir, but he didn't say anything. They gave each other an odd look. Assef just leaned against the beam of the door and talked amicably with Amir.

"What do you think that's about?" Kamal asked Wali.

"I don't know." Wali responded. "But knowing Assef he's probably has something working up."

Little did Amr know Wali was right. He wouldn't figure that out until the weekend. But for now he was happy. His mullah returned and he entered his classroom. Assef said goodbye. Now all he needed to do was get out of going to the movies with Hassan.

He didn't feel an inch of remorse all he cared about was going to the movies with Assef. It was such a strange thing. Sometimes the thing that causes you so much happiness in one point in time can cause you the greatest of heart aches in later years.