Chapter 28: Apple Computer

"Really? How much did you score on the SSAT?" This was essentially Su Mu's personal business, and Kate shouldn't have asked, but since he'd just mentioned picking a high school, his grades must be quite good. Low emotional intelligence doesn't mean stupidity; in fact, Kate was quite smart.

Perhaps realizing her question was abrupt, she quickly added, "I'm planning to take the SSAT this year as well, so I wanted to ask you. I just feel like Castlereagh School isn't very suitable for me. Many students are... unpleasant."

She was overthinking it. Su Mu never considered Kate an outsider, only worried she might not want to speak with him; there was no reason to dislike her for talking too much. He enjoyed listening to her adorable London-accented English. American residents found British men stiff, but always thought British women’s accents were charming.

He replied, "A little over 3,300. The last time I saw you, our school had a shooting incident, remember? After I got home, my parents felt it wasn’t safe for me to stay at Castlereagh.

The academic atmosphere at our school is terrible. Most students only care about playing around; it truly isn’t a good high school. I suggest you take the SSAT. Thinking about going to another school makes me feel relieved. That way, there’s a much higher chance of getting into a top university. It’s just a pity..."

Su Mu almost let slip his true feelings, still in a distracted state, speaking without thinking.

Kate looked at him, curious, "A pity about what?"

"I’ll have to say goodbye to all my friends at school. I’ll probably miss them. Most are my neighbors, not far from my house, so we’ll still get chances to meet."

Su Mu shrugged as if it didn’t matter. In truth, he wanted to say, "It's just a pity I might never see you again." Both would leave Castlereagh, and chances to meet would dwindle, but he was too shy to say it aloud.

Before he received a clear response, his anxious, uncertain feelings kept him from voicing his true thoughts—afraid of rejection, afraid to ruin their hard-won friendship... If they already had a friendship, white and black kids liked being direct, saying whatever came to mind, caring mostly about their own feelings. Su Mu, who grew up in Chinatown, wasn’t like that; his temperament was much closer to his father, Su Dingcai.

Kate noticed nothing amiss, nodded without saying more. If Su Mu understood her better, he'd know Kate already felt quite close to him, at ease emotionally—she never talked so much with other boys.

Unknowingly, Su Mu had walked Kate all the way to her doorstep. When he noticed her stop, he realized they’d arrived. Twenty minutes had flown by, spent in conversation, discussing many trivial topics, deepening their understanding of each other. After saying their farewells, they parted.

On his way home, Su Mu walked with a spring in his step. After all, he’d spent so much time chatting with the girl he liked; it would be odd not to be happy. In an era when phones were unaffordable and the Internet undeveloped, there was no chance to exchange Kate’s contact information. Maybe they’d meet again in the future, maybe not—everything left to fate.

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He finally remembered to visit Du Zhong’s house.

When Su Mu arrived, Du Zhong was fuming. He’d earlier ridden his bike to the convenience store to pick up Su Mu, only to find he’d already left. Not only was his trip wasted, but his tire had been punctured by glass, forcing him to push the bike hundreds of meters home, exhausted.

Su Mu could only apologize. That’s the nature of friendship among boys—quick tempers, quickly forgotten. Upon hearing Su Mu had walked Kate home, Du Zhong’s eyes sparkled, gossiping eagerly about what had happened; any annoyance already vanished.

Unlike the Su family's run-down house, Du Zhong’s family owned a detached villa with front and back gardens, even a small pool in the backyard. Though not a luxury neighborhood, most neighbors were middle-class, and it was enough to make many from Chinatown envious. Both his parents worked, and a South American nanny handled cleaning; she didn’t understand English or Chinese, but as long as she could clean and cook, it was enough. She also cared for Du Zhong’s little sister, just eighteen months old, not yet able to speak.

It wasn't Su Mu’s first time at Du Zhong's house, but each visit felt pleasant. Who wouldn’t like living in a clean, spacious home? Sometimes he envied Du Zhong, but never felt his own parents were lacking—they had done their best.

He chatted with Du Zhong about what had just happened, eyes fixed on the large color TV. The Su family only had two small TVs, and the one in the old man's room was black-and-white. In the early eighties, a color TV over twenty inches was expensive. On screen, the opening ceremony of the Los Angeles Olympics played, over a hundred thousand spectators packed into the stands, Hollywood directors orchestrating scenes of American music and dance.

He’d read in the papers that President Reagan would attend the ceremony, though he hadn’t appeared yet. The event continued until nightfall, but there was still plenty of time. He’d anticipated the Olympics for a while, but now that it had arrived, found it rather dull. The entire event had only a forty-five million dollar budget, tightly controlled by a miserly businessman, making everything seem ordinary.

Watching TV was secondary; the main draw was the conversation. Around six o’clock, for the first time in his life, Su Mu sat before a computer, staring at its TV-like monitor, completely at a loss—afraid of breaking it, not daring to press any buttons.

He’d been planning for over a month to play on Du Zhong’s computer, but preparation for the SSAT had delayed him. Li Ping’an had visited before, telling Su Mu it was boring.

Du Zhong helped boot up the ugly Apple computer. The screen was tiny, but the machine itself was huge. This was the world’s first commercially successful graphical user interface, and to Su Mu, it seemed magical. Holding the mouse, he asked, intrigued, "What does this thing do?

You’ve got more experience, teach me how to use it. I’ve read about it in the papers, but never touched one. Is it like an arcade game?"

Du Zhong gave Su Mu a look as if he were an idiot, then explained, "My dad sometimes uses it to make spreadsheets, but I never play with it. If it were as fun as an arcade, that’d be great. You’ll see for yourself—it's really boring.

My mom always says my dad wasted money buying this thing. Those ads about computers being amazing are total lies. Other than typing, it’s useless. What you’re holding is called a mouse—very simple. Okay, move the mouse now..."