Chapter 7: My Good Friend Ge Xin

Even now, among all eight classes in our grade, apart from my good friend Ge Xin, I've never truly admired anyone else when it comes to English. Ge Xin was the first friend I made when I arrived at No.1 High School, and she remains my closest companion.

She is the class monitor, and her academic performance is outstanding, especially in Chinese and English. Her essays are beautifully written and full of artistry—something I greatly admire but can't hope to match. What amazes me even more is her exceptional command of English; it seems there is nothing she doesn't know.

Sometimes in class, our teacher, Ms. Yin, would write one or two unfamiliar English phrases or sentences on the blackboard. She would then call on students to translate them into Chinese or explain their meanings. Ms. Yin always asked other classmates first, but usually, she'd shake her head and say "No" with a blank expression. When it was clear no one else knew, she'd call on Ge Xin, who, without fail, would stand up and give the correct answer every time. That was what I admired most, because even I couldn't answer some of those questions, yet Ge Xin always could!

And that’s not all—what’s truly impressive is that Ge Xin excels in every subject, not just Chinese and English. Whether it’s mathematics, physics, chemistry, political science, history, or geography, she masters them all. Oh, and by the way, Ge Xin is also quite athletic, which stands in stark contrast to me—a student who struggles to meet the basic physical education requirements.

Her favorite sport is volleyball. She often plays until her arms turn red, sometimes even dotted with tiny spots of blood, but she never tires of it. Our class’s English representative is Zhang Dongdong, a petite girl with a round face, short hair cut to her ears, black-framed glasses, and a sharp wit. Her voice is a bit boyish, and her mannerisms are distinctly tomboyish. She’s always cracking jokes, and in her words, “Ge Xin, how can you be so amazing? You’re practically not human.” Although I never said it aloud, I couldn’t agree more in my heart.

Ge Xin has a little habit—when she’s nervous or deep in thought, she likes to rub her earlobe with her thumb and forefinger. Since I spend every recess with her, I’ve picked up the gesture myself, often doing it unconsciously.

Once, when the school band was looking for drummers, Ge Xin wanted to learn the snare drum because she thought it was really cool, so I signed up with her. I had actually been in the drum band since elementary school, with several years of experience. Ge Xin, on the other hand, was a complete beginner, but she took learning the snare drum as seriously as she did her math and Chinese studies.

Perhaps her sense of rhythm was just a touch lacking. Even though I stayed with her after every class to help her memorize beats and practice, it still took her a long time to learn. I thought to myself, “Haha, at last, I’m better than Ge Xin at something!”

Happy times are always so short-lived. In the blink of an eye, it was time for the arts and sciences stream division in our second year. Ge Xin ultimately chose the humanities, while I went with the sciences. I stayed in my original class—Class 1 of the second year—and she was assigned to Class 8.

The best of friends, who had once been inseparable, were suddenly split apart. I was sad for a long time and only gradually got used to it. Ge Xin was a boarding student and usually ate in the school cafeteria. Since there wasn’t enough time for me to go home for lunch, I also ate at the cafeteria at noon.

That way, I could see Ge Xin every day at lunchtime. I looked forward to it so much!

At last, the final class of the morning ended. Yin Yu’s home was close to school, so she went home for lunch. I grabbed my wallet and meal ticket and hurried toward the school cafeteria.