"Sister Carlotta is a nun. You'll never find a more honest person."
"Honest people have been known to deceive themselves. To want so desperately, after all these years of searching, to find one--just one--child whose value will be worth all that work."
"And she's found him."
"Look at the way she found him. Her first report touts this Achilles child, and this--this Bean, this Legume--he's just an afterthought. Then Achilles is gone, not another mention of him--did he die? Wasn't she trying to get a leg operation for him?--and it's Haricot Vert who is now her candidate."
" 'Bean' is the name he calls himself. Rather as your Andrew Wiggin calls himself 'Ender.' "
"He's not my Andrew Wiggin."
"And Bean is not Sister Carlotta's child, either. If she were inclined to fudge the scores or administer tests unfairly, she would have pushed other students into the program long before now, and we'd already know how unreliable she was. She has never done that. She washes out her most hopeful children herself, then finds some place for them on Earth or in a non-command program. I think y
ou're merely annoyed because you've already decided to focus all your attention and energy on the Wiggin boy, and you don't want any distraction."
"When did I lie down on your couch?"
"If my analysis is wrong, do forgive me."
"Of course I'll give this little one a chance. Even if I don't for one second believe these scores."
"Not just a chance. Advance him. Test him. Challenge him. Don't let him languish."
"You underestimate our program. We advance and test and challenge all our students."
"But some are more equal than others."
"Some take better advantage of the program than others."
"I'll look forward to telling Sister Carlotta about your enthusiasm."
Sister Carlotta shed tears when she told Bean that it was time for him to leave. Bean shed none.
"I understand that you're afraid, Bean, but don't be," she said. "You'll be safe there, and there's so much to learn. The way you drink down knowledge, you'll be very happy there in no time. So you won't really miss me at all."
Bean blinked. What sign had he given that made her think he was afraid? Or that he would miss her?
He felt none of those things. When he first met her, he might have been prepared to feel something for her. She was kind. She fed him. She was keeping him safe, giving him a life.
But then he found Pablo the janitor, and there was Sister Carlotta, stopping Bean from talking to the man who had saved him long before she did. Nor would she tell him anything that Pablo had said, or anything she had learned about the clean place.
From that moment, trust was gone. Bean knew that whatever Sister Carlotta was doing, it wasn't for him. She was using him. He didn't know what for. It might even be something he would have chosen to do himself. But she wasn't telling him the truth. She had secrets from him. The way Achilles kept secrets.
So during the months that she was his teacher, he had grown more and more distant from her. Everything she taught, he learned--and much that she didn't teach as well. He took every test she gave him, and did well; but he showed her nothing he had learned that she hadn't taught him.
Of course life with Sister Carlotta was better than life on the street--he had no intention of going back. But he did not trust her. He was on guard all the time. He was as careful as he had ever been back in Achilles' family. Those brief days at the beginning, when he wept in front of her, when he let go of himself and spoke freely--that had been a mistake that he would not repeat. Life was better, but he wasn't safe, and this wasn't home.
Her tears were real enough, he knew. She really did love him, and would really miss him when he left. After all, he had been a perfect child, compliant, quick, obedient. To her, that meant he was "good." To him, it was only a way of keeping his access to food and learning. He wasn't stupid.
Why did she assume he was afraid? Because she was afraid for him. Therefore there might indeed be something to fear. He would be careful.
And why did she assume that he would miss her? Because she would miss him, and she could not imagine that what she was feeling, he might not feel as well. She had created an imaginary version of him. Like the games of Let's Pretend that she tried to play with him a couple of times. Harking back to her own childhood, no doubt, growing up in a house where there was always enough food. Bean didn't have to pretend things in order to exercise his imagination when he was on the street. Instead he had to imagine his plans for how to get food, for how to insinuate himself into a crew, for how to survive when he knew he seemed useless to everyone. He had to imagine how and when Achilles would decide to act against him for having advocated that Poke kill him. He had to imagine danger around every corner, a bully ready to seize every scrap of food. Oh, he had plenty of imagination. But he had no interest at all in playing Let's Pretend.
That was her game. She played it all the time. Let's pretend that Bean is a good little boy. Let's pretend that Bean is the son that this nun can never have for real. Let's pretend that when Bean leaves, he'll cry--that he's not crying now because he's too afraid of this new school, this journey into space, to let his emotions show. Let's pretend that Bean loves me.
And when he understood this, he made a decision: It will do no harm to me if she believes all this. And she wants very much to believe it. So why not give it to her? After all, Poke let me stay with the crew even though she didn't need me, because it would do no harm. It's the kind of thing Poke would do.
So Bean slid off his chair, walked around the table to Sister Carlotta, and put his arms as far around her as they would reach. She gathered him up onto her lap and held him tight, her tears flowing into his hair. He hoped her nose wasn't running. But he clung to her as long as she clung to him, letting go only when she let go of him. It was what she wanted from him, the only payment that she had ever asked of him. For all the meals, the lessons, the books, the language, for his future, he owed her no less than to join her in this game of Let's Pretend.