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So why do I hate my life?He went through the paces of the practices and games. He liked teaching the boys in his toon, and they followedhim loyally. He had the respect of everyone, and he was treated with deference in his evening practices.Commanders came to study what he did. Other soldiers approached his table at mess and asked permission to sitdown. Even the teachers were respectful.He had so much damn respect he wanted to scream.He watched the young kids in his army, fresh out of their launch groups, watched how they played, how theymade fun of their leaders when they thought no one was looking. He watched the camaraderie of old friends whohad known each other in the Battle School for years, who talked and laughed about old battles and longgraduatedsoldiers and commanders.But with his old friends there was no laughter, no remembering. Just work. Just intelligence and excitementabout the game, but nothing beyond that. Tonight it had come to a head in the evening practice. Ender and Alaiwere discussing the nuances of open-space maneuvers when Shen came up and listened for a few moments, thensuddenly took Alai by the shoulders and shouted, "Nova! Nova! Nova!" Alai burst out laughing, and for amoment or two Ender watched them remember together the battle where open-room maneuvering had been forreal, and they had dodged past the older boys and--Suddenly they remembered that Ender was tnere. "Sorry, Ender," Shen said.Sorry. For what? For being friends? "I was there, too, you know," Ender said.And they apologized again. Back to business. Back to respect. And Ender realized that in their laughter, in theirfriendship, it had not occurred to them that he was included.How could they think I was part of it? Did I laugh? Did I join in? Just stood there, watching, like a teacher.第 147 页 共 340 页http://www.en8848.com.cn/ 原 版 英 语 阅 读 网