Lost Boys by Orson Scott Card Page B

“So I picked them up and threw them in the trash and then she yelled at me.”
    â€œShe yelled at you?”
    â€œShe said that I had an unfriendly attitude and a chip on my shoulder and I’d better learn some manners or I’d never get along.”
    She put her arm around him. “Oh, son, I’m so sorry. She should never have said anything like that.”
    â€œThey’re all against me there, Mom,” he said. “Even the teacher.”
    â€œStevie, I know it seems that way—”
    â€œIt doesn’t just seem , it is! ”
    â€œMrs. Jones just didn’t understand what those papers were, or what the other kids had been saying.”
    â€œShe talks just like they do, Mom,” he said. “They just hate me because I’m from Utah!”
    â€œKids are cruel,” said DeAnne. “You knew that—the way they treated Barry Wimmer.” She remembered back to her own childhood, to her parents’ words to her. “Not all the kids were making fun of you, were they? Weren’t most of them just standing around watching?”
    â€œThey didn’t stick up for me, either,” said Stevie.
    â€œNo, they just watched. They just watched, and that made you feel like they all agreed with the mean ones. But they don’t, not really, Stevie. They just—they just hadn’t decided anything at all. So if they see you tomorrow standing tall and—”
    â€œDon’t make me go back, Mom!” cried Stevie. He was trembling. “Don’t make me go back to class! Not Mrs. Jones’s class! Don’t make me!”
    â€œSon! Calm down, please, calm down.” She had no idea what to do about this. Every natural instinct told her to say, Yes, Stevie, you’re right, that class is the last place in the world I’ll ever send you, and you can stay home with me and be safe for the rest of your life. But she knew that, however much she might want to say that, she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “These things aren’t under my control—I can’t keep you out of school, and I can’t get you into another class unless Dr. Mariner agrees.”
    â€œDon’t make me go back,” he whispered.
    â€œSon, you’ll see—tomorrow they’ll probably still be mean, but it won’t be new anymore and so they’ll get bored and do something else. And in a few days the nicer kids will start being friends with you. Plus you’ll get used to the way they talk and you’ll understand them and things will be fine. ”
    â€œThey’ll never be fine ,” he said, and he got up and stalked out of the room. It was sadly funny, his furious walk, the way he tried to be forceful as he opened the door, but ended up fumbling with the door handle because he was still small enough that door handles weren’t easy. One thing was certain, though. She could not let this go without talking to Dr. Mariner.
    The Steuben phone book was by the kitchen phone. Step was at the table, eating a tuna sandwich. With mustard on it, which always made her cringe a little, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
    â€œWhat was it?” asked Step.
    â€œThe kids made fun of his accent and the fact that he couldn’t understand their accent, and then Mrs. Jones actually told him off because he wasn’t being polite enough to her or to them!”
    â€œAdults can be so stupid with children sometimes,” he said.
    â€œHe begged me not to send him back to school tomorrow.”
    â€œSo keep him home,” said Step.
    â€œAre you serious?” She could not believe he was saying that.
    â€œThe teacher’s unsympathetic and the kids are all little shits,” he said. “Keep him home.”
    She hated it when he used words like that, even though he apparently thought it was cute—it was so juvenile of him to use shock words, as if she were his parent instead of his wife. But she