Page 53 of You Had Me at Hello World
“How recent are we talking? Like Liszt? Tchaikovsky? We’re already deep into the romantic era, Char. There’s not much more recent we can go.”
“Recent like… Cardi B?”
He tilts his head in confusion. “Cardiovascular disease?”
“No,B, notD… never mind.” I turn my attention back to my computer screen. Khoi unpauses the symphony.
A few minutes later, he says, “Let’s play a game.”
“Maybe later.” If this is another one of his tactics to winning over my heart, it’s not going to work. I am totally immune to his flirting.
“Like a game while we code. It’ll make the time go by faster.”
I don’t look up from my laptop. “How’s that work?”
“We ask each other questions and respond with the first thing that comes to mind. The idea is that you exert almost no mental effort into responding.”
“So all my responses are thoughtless?”
“So all your responses arehonest.”
Sure, whatever. “Fine. Go ahead. Ask something.”
“You first.”
I narrow my eyes.
“What? You can learn a lot about a person by what questions they ask.”
Okay. I’ve got something. “Would you rather fight one hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?” It’s a classic. During our sleepovers, Lola and I kick off Would You Rather with this one. She thinks she could destroy the horse-sized duck. I’m a duck-sized horse truther. It’s our friendship’s longest-running argument.
“I’m a pacifistandI believe in animal rights,” Khoi says. “I don’t want to fight either of these things.”
“Sorry, dude. You’re in an empty field and both options are charging toward you right now. You only have your fists to defend you. Pick your poison.”
“I would step aside and let them duke it out with each other,” he says.
I try to arch an eyebrow at him, but I was not blessed with the lifting-a-singular-eyebrow gene. “Just answer the question.”
“Fine! Um…” He thinks for a second. “How large are these horses? Are we talking miniature pony? Thoroughbred?”
“Bruh, I don’t know. Normal horse–sized?”
“I’ll go with the second option,” he says. “I’d feel less bad fighting a monster duck than a bunch of adorable tiny horses.”
“That’s precisely why I’d choose the first. Adorable tiny horses are easier to take on than one monster duck.”
He sucks in his teeth. “Wow, that’s cold, Tang. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
I flash him a smug smile, then go back to Figma.
“My turn. Who’s your favorite poet?”
“Dunno… maybe Pablo Neruda?” I don’t know a single Pablo Neruda poem, so I’m not sure why I name-dropped him. It just popped into my head. Isn’t he the guy that Lola’s ex Hot Sarah wanted her to read during sex? “You?”
“Ocean Vuong,” he says. “He’s Vietnamese too. Look him up.”
He spells the name out, and I google it. I click on the first link. The poem has a lot of unnecessary line breaks. Why do poets do that? It’s like they write four words and then get bored, somight as well press the enter key!At least in Python, white space means something.
