Page 54 of You Had Me at Hello World
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“You’re not supposed togetpoetry. You’re supposed to feel it.”
According to my AP Lang teacher, you’re supposed to dissect it for metaphors and imagery, but I’m not so sure I appreciate that surgical approach to literature. “I wouldn’t have thought you of all people liked poetry.”
It’s weird. I guess I had this impression of Khoi in my head as a huge nerd who only cared about computer science. I mean, he’s still a huge nerd, but one who cares about anything and everything. I like that. I like that a lot.
“Why not? Poetry abstracts the world, just like code. It distills everything down to its purest form.” He gets this dreamy, wide-eyed expression. “Science can’t account for everything. Let me give you an example. You’re from the Oregon coast, right?”
I nod.
“Sure, the tides are caused by the moon’s gravitational pull. The blueness is due to water’s absorption of sunlight. But you know that scientifically unaccountable sense of enchantment and beauty that comes when you look at the ocean?”
Once upon a time I must’ve felt something like that. When we first moved to Chinook Shore after Michael inherited the house, I was so excited to live right next to the beach. I always begged my mom to let me go into the water, even though it was ice-cold. I loved its enormity. I loved how, no matter how far it receded from shore, the sea always returned like a promise.
But nowadays, the Pacific Ocean is a constant reminder of everywhere I am not.
“Okay. Yeah.”
“That’s poetry.”
This boy. I fake gag so he won’t notice how charmed I am by his hopeless poetic wonder.
“Your turn.”
“Yep.” I try to think of a good question. “If you started a cult, what kind of cult would it be?”
“Man. I would be such a terrible cult leader.” He shakes his head. “I’d be the cult leader for, like, people with no rizz. For the introverted and the socially awkward. We’d bring cats to parties and then recruit the people who come play with said cat instead of talking to others.”
“You could pose as waiters and recruit those who say ‘you too’ when you tell them to enjoy their meal,” I suggest.
“People who get profiled byWiredmagazine but their interviewer keeps referring to their app as ‘Imposter Symptom’ instead of ‘Imposter Syndrome,’ but they don’t want to be rude by correcting her.”
“Khoi, that sounds like a situation specific to only you.”
“Fair. What kind of cult wouldyoustart?”
Hm. I take a second to think. “The cult for people who shamelessly love bad pop music. I’m talking the classics. Justin Bieber. Kesha back when she still had a dollar sign in her name. I know it’s like junk food for your brain and I don’t care.” When it comes to music, I’m like a little kid at the candy store: going for anything sugary sweet, colorful, and easy to reach for.
Khoi shudders. “Char. I want to respect your choices. I really do. But this is going too far.”
“Why do people hate on pop music so much? Is it because they think it’s cool to be edgy and different?”
“No, it’s because most pop music is atrocious. Music is mankind’s most universal art form. It exists in every known culture. There are instruments that are thousands of years old. All of that history and lineage, and somehow the most popular song in the world right now is about how much some guy wants to sleep with a woman he met at a nightclub?”
“Well, sex is mankind’s second-most universal art form,” I say. “Okay. Your turn to ask.”
He leans forward, resting his chin on the top of my laptop screen. “How are you doing?”
I blink, confused. Is this part of the game? “I’m fine. You?”
“Nonono. People always do that, right? They brush off the question with some generic one-word pleasantry. What’s even the point? But actually, this is my question. How are you doing?”
I cast about for a response. HowamI doing? I’m…
I’mhappyin a way I haven’t felt for a long while. I don’t know when that happened. Obviously the competition is stressful and half the kids here are either insanely toxic or straight-up insane, which is unfortunate, given that they’re the future leaders of Silicon Valley.
But I don’t have to be careful. I don’t have to hide money beneath my bed or watch what I say. And honestly? That’s a vast improvement from my previous situation.
