A War of Gifts (Ender's Saga 1.10)

So Dink asked all his friends to ask everybody they knew to stop doing the stocking thing. To stop giving gifts that had anything to do with Santa Claus.

And, within a day, it stopped.

He thought that would be the end of it.

But it wasn't the end. Because of Zeck.

Nothing Zeck did, of course. Zeck was Zeck, completely unchanged. Zeck didn't do anything in practice except fly around, and he didn't do anything in battle except take up space. But he went to class, he did his schoolwork, he turned in his assignments.

And everybody ignored him. They always had. But not like this.

Before, they had ignored him in a kind of tolerant, almost grudgingly respectful way: He's an idiot, but at least he's consistent.

Now they ignored him in a pointed way. They didn't even bother teasing him or jostling him. He just didn't exist. If he tried to speak to anybody, they turned away. Dink saw it, and it made him feel bad. But Zeck had brought it on himself. It's one thing to be an outsider because you're different. It's another thing to get other people in trouble for your own selfish reasons. And that's what Zeck had done. He didn't care about the no-religion rule--he violated it all the time himself. He just used Dink's Sinterklaas present to Flip as a means of making a lame point with the commandant.

So I was childish too, thought Dink. I knew when to stop. He didn't.

Not my fault.

And yet Dink couldn't stop observing him. Just glances. Just...noticing. He had read a little bit about primate behavior, as part of the theory of group loyalties. He knew how chimps and baboons that were shut out of their troop behaved, what happened to them. Depression. Self-destruction. Before, Zeck had seemed to thrive on isolation. Now that the isolation was complete, he wasn't thriving anymore.

He looked drawn. He would start walking in some direction and then just stop. Then go again, but slowly. He didn't eat much. Things weren't going well for him.

And if there was one thing Dink knew, it was that the counselors and teachers weren't worth a bucket of hog snot when it came to actually helping a kid with real problems. They had their agenda--what they wanted to make each kid do. But if it was clear the kid wouldn't do it, then they lost interest. The way they had lost interest in Dink. Even if Zeck asked for help, they wouldn't give it. And Zeck wouldn't ask.

Despite knowing how futile it was, Dink tried anyway. He went to Graff and tried to explain what was happening to Zeck.

"Interesting theory," said Graff. "He's being shunned, you think."

"I know."

"But not by you?"

"I've tried to talk to him a couple of times, he shuts me out."

"So he's shunning you."

"But everybody else is shunning him."

"Dink," said Graff, "ego te absolvo."

"Whatever you might think," said Dink, "that wasn't Dutch."

"It was Latin. From the Catholic confessional. I absolve you of your sin."

"I'm not Catholic."

"I'm not a priest."

"You don't have the power to absolve anybody from anything."

"But it was worth a try. Go back to your barracks, Dink. Zeck is not your problem."

"Why don't you just send him back home?" asked Dink. "He's never going to be anything in this army. He's a Christian, not a soldier. Why can't you let him go home and be a Christian?"

Graff leaned back in his chair.

"Okay, I know what you're going to say," said Dink.