“Actually, I switched to center forward this year,” Assef said. “You get to score more that way. We’re playing the Mekro-Rayan team next week. Should be a good match. They have some good players.” “是的，我今年改踢中场了。”阿塞夫说，“那样我就可以多进一些球了。我们下个星期跟梅寇拉扬队比赛。那会很精彩，他们有几个球员很棒。”

Baba nodded. “You know, I played center forward too when I was young.”

爸爸点点头:“你知道，我年轻的时候也踢中场。”

“I’ll bet you still could if you wanted to,”Assef said. He favored Baba with a good-natured wink¹.

“我敢打赌，现在你要是愿意，也能踢。”阿塞夫说，他一脸天真地眨眨眼，拍爸爸的马屁。

Baba returned the wink. “I see your father has taught you his world-famous flattering ways.” He elbowed Assef’s father, almost knocked the little fellow down. Mahmood’s laughter was about as convincing as Tanya’s smile, and suddenly I wondered if maybe, on some level, their son frightened them. I tried to fake a smile, but all I could manage was a feeble upturning of the corners of my mouth--my stomach was turning at the sight of my father bonding with Assef.

爸爸也朝他眨眼:“我看你老爸已经把他举世闻名的拍马屁技术传给你了。”他用手肘碰碰阿塞夫的父亲，差点把那个小家伙撞倒。马赫穆德的笑声就像谭雅的微笑那样虚伪。突然之间，我在想，也许从某种程度上说，他们害怕自己的儿子。我试图装出一个笑容，但我所能做到的，只是勉强让嘴角往上翘了翘——看到爸爸和阿塞夫这么投机，我的胃翻动着。

Assef shifted his eyes to me. “Wali and Kamal are here too. They wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything,” he said, laughter lurking² just beneath the surface. I nodded silently. 阿塞夫把眼光移向我。“瓦里和卡莫也来了，他们怎么也不会错过你的生日。”他皮笑肉不笑地说。我默默点头。

“We’re thinking about playing a little game of volleyball tomorrow at my house,” Assef said. “Maybe you’ll join us. Bring Hassan if you want to.”

“我们打算明天在我家玩排球，”阿塞夫说，“也许你可以来一起玩，如果你愿意，也可以带上哈桑。”

“That sounds fun,” Baba said, beaming. “What do you think, Amir?” “听起来很有趣。”爸爸说，双眼放光。“你觉得呢，阿米尔?”

“I don’t really like volleyball,” I muttered. I saw the light wink out of Baba’s eyes and an uncomfortable silence followed.

“我真的不喜欢排球。”我喃喃说，看到爸爸眼里的光芒消失了，接着是一阵令人不适的沉默。

“Sorry, Assefjan,” Baba said, shrugging. That stung, his apologizing for me.

“很抱歉，亲爱的阿塞夫。”爸爸说，耸耸肩。他替我道歉!那刺痛了我。

“Nay³, no harm done,” Assef said. “But you have an open invitation, Amir jan. Anyway, I heard you like to read so I brought you a book. One of my favorites.” He extended a wrapped birthday gift to me. “Happy birthday.”

“不，没关系。”阿塞夫说，“不过大门随时为你开放，亲爱的阿米尔。不管怎样，我听说你喜欢看书，所以我给你带了一本，我最喜欢的。”他将一份包扎好的礼物递给我，“生日快乐。”

He was dressed in a cotton shirt and blue slacks, a red silk tie and shiny black loafers. He smelled of cologne and his blond hair was neatly⁴ combed back. On the surface, he was the embodiment of every parent’s dream, a strong, tall, well-dressed and well-mannered boy with talent and striking looks, not to mention the wit to joke with an adult. But to me, his eyes betrayed him. When I looked into them, the facade⁵ faltered⁶, revealed a glimpse of the madness hiding behind them. 他穿着棉布衬衣、蓝色裤子，系着红色领带，脚上是一双闪亮的黑色皮鞋。他身上散发着古龙水的香味，金黄色的头发整齐地梳向后面。就外表而言，他是每个父母梦想中的儿子：强壮，高大，衣冠楚楚，举止得体，英俊得令人吃惊，还富有才华，更不用说还能机智地跟大人打趣。但在我看来，他的眼睛出卖了他。我看着他的眼睛，看穿他虚有其表，有一种疯狂隐藏在他身内。

“Aren’t you going to take it, Amir?” Baba was saying. “Huh?” “怎么不收下，阿米尔?”爸爸说。“嗯?”

“Your present,” he said testily⁷. “Assefjan is giving you a present.”

“你的礼物啊，”他不耐烦地说，“亲爱的阿塞夫给你送礼物呢。”

“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.

“哦。”我说，从阿塞夫手里接过那个盒子，放低视线。要是我能独自在房间里，陪着我的书，远离这些人就好了。

“Well?” Baba said.

“喂?”爸爸说。

“What?”

“什么?”