Lost and Found

by Orson Scott Card

“I guess maybe,” said Ezekiel. “When everybody shuns you all the time, every day, it doesn’t feel like protection.” “What does it feel like?” “Hatred,” said Ezekiel. “Oh, no, Ezekiel,” said Shank. “Nobody can really hate you till they get to know you.” That hit Ezekiel like running into a wall. Maybe Shank was teasing, but were they good enough friends for that? Ezekiel checked—no little smile. Shank caught him looking and then suddenly his face changed. “No, no, I said that wrong. I didn’t mean you. Not you specifically. I meant the ‘you’ like ‘everybody.’ People, you know? Nobody can really hate a person till you get to know him. Not you.” Ezekiel was relieved enough that he didn’t want to keep making Shank squirm over his wording. “So me they can hate without knowing me?” he asked. Shank gave him a full smile at that. “Nobody hates you, Ezekiel, because nobody knows you. The people who do know you think you’re kind of amazing. Scary smart, and then there’s all the finding.” “You say ‘people who know me’ as if there was anybody besides my dad.” “Your mom thought you were amazing. Your dad says.” “Yeah, she did,” said Ezekiel. “She was amazing.” “And Beth—would she be your friend if she didn’t think so?” “Beth has ulterior motives but sure, she likes me OK.” Silence for about a minute, which, Ezekiel knew, was a long, long time if it came in the middle of a conversation. Ezekiel looked toward the top of the road to see if somebody was coming. “And I know damn well that yo...