The Mountains Sing(69)

On the third floor, I turned into a long corridor.

Teachers had started their lessons inside the classrooms I passed. Some boys were stealing glances at me through the open windows. I tried to make myself smaller, embarrassed at the sounds my sandals were making.

The bursting noise of my class welcomed me in. No sign of a teacher. Good. I hurried to my seat.

“What happened? Why are you late?” Tran rushed toward me.

“I overslept.” I smiled at her. She was one of the girls most friendly with me. I wondered if she’d visit my home some time.

“Watch out,” voices rang from behind my back, then roaring laughter. I didn’t have to turn to know the boys were playing some stupid games again.

Tran took something out of my hair. A paper plane with my name scribbled on its wings. “From Nam. He really likes you.”

“Well, I don’t like him.” I opened my bag, pulling out my notebook.

“I see Teacher ??nh,” someone called out. My classmates shouldered each other, scrambling to their desks. Our history teacher appeared, but he wasn’t alone. Next to him was a tall boy; unlike those in my class, his skin was as dark as a farmer’s.

We stood up in unison to greet our teacher, who smiled and nodded for us to sit down.

“Tam, your new classmate.” Teacher ??nh gestured toward the boy. “Help him get settled and don’t give him a hard time, is that clear?”

“Yes, Teacher,” we chorused.

“Come see me if you have any problems,” Teacher ??nh told Tam. “And to help you get familiar with things, Thi?t, our class president, will take you on a tour when school finishes today.”

“Thi?t is sick, Teacher,” someone said.

Teacher ??nh looked around the room. “Someone else will give you a tour then.” His eyes found me. “H??ng, okay?”

“Yes, Teacher,” I mumbled, though all I could think about was how I wished I could skip the entire day, to be home, to have a long chat with Uncle ??t. I needed to say sorry. There had been moments when I considered him a burden, even though I’d promised to help him when he first returned.

AT THE SOUNDS of drumbeats, my classmates spilled out of the room like bees fleeing their hive.

“Need help with guiding the new cutie?” Tran came to me, giggling.

“Thanks, but it’ll be a quick tour.” I stuffed my notebook into my bag. How could Tran even think that the new boy was handsome? What was his name again?

Tran glanced toward the back of our classroom. I followed her gaze. The new boy was at his desk, his head bent over a book. I wondered what he was reading.

“Hi, H??ng,” someone called out. Nam. He smiled nervously at me. “Can I invite you for—”

I dropped the paper plane into his half-open bag. “I’m on duty today, the introduction tour.”

“Oh.” He scratched his head.

“Want to invite me instead?” Tran pulled Nam’s arm. When they were nearly out of the classroom, Tran turned her head. “Have fun,” she mouthed.

I cleared my desk. I remembered the boy’s name now. Tam. His name meant “Good Conscience.”

Tam was still reading when I got to him. “Ready to go?”

He lifted his face. His eyes were deep brown, framed by long lashes. “Go where?”

His heavy middle-region accent surprised me. Grandma spoke this accent, but only at home. Why did Tam leave the middle region to come here?

“The tour, remember?” I mumbled. I wished I’d asked Tran to take over the duty, but no student would dare disobey the teachers. If we wanted to pass our grade, our mark for the “Good Behavior” subject had to be adequate.

“Oh.” Tam stood up. “Thanks for doing this.”

We left the classroom. The corridor was empty. Gray clouds had gathered in the sky, sprinkling a drizzle onto the yard. We stood on the balcony, gazing down at the wetness beneath.

“We have around five hundred students here.” I zipped up my jacket. “School starts at seven-thirty every morning except for Monday, when we arrive one hour earlier to sing the national anthem and greet the national flag. Behind that tree is the canteen, the soccer field is at the back of that building.”

“Is there a library?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t have many interesting titles, to be honest. The book you’re reading, is it good?”

“It’s too good. I can’t stop.” Tam showed me the cover. The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Ah, Victor Hugo is an incredible writer.” I smiled. “I adore his poetry. I read this last year and dreamt about visiting France to see that magnificent cathedral.”

“I know.” Tam returned the book to his bag. “I’d love to visit Paris one day, too. . . . And I was hoping our library would have a great collection. I’ve left most of my books at my village, for my sister.”

“That’s nice of you. . . . I have a few books and could lend you some.”

“Really?” Tam’s eyes brightened. “That’d be great. Thanks.” He pulled up the collar of his jacket. “Do you live far away from here?”

“I’m on Kham Thiên Street. Where’s your home village?”

“In Hà T?nh Province. Uhm . . . your neighborhood, Kham Thiên, was heavily bombed, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”