Chapter 4 — Elections and Hearts

The first weekend of the campaign, Ngoc spent Saturday morning sitting with Trang in her small living room, the two of them surrounded by dozens of colorful sticky notes taped to a whiteboard — each note recording an opinion, question or suggestion that students had put in a paper box at the campaign booth over the past week.

"You know," Trang said, reorganizing the pile of notes according to topic groups, "I counted at least fifty comments in just three days. Not to mention dozens of messages through the campaign's social networking site."

"So everyone really cares," Ngoc smiled, a feeling of relief creeping into her heart after a stressful week. "I was afraid that people would just be curious to see Khang and I standing next to each other, and not really pay attention to the content."

"Well, at first it probably did," Trang chuckled, "but looking at what's written in here, it's clear they're serious. Hey, read this."

Trang gave Ngoc a neatly written note: "I'm in 11th grade, my family is also as difficult as you said. I didn't dare tell anyone because I was afraid of being looked down upon by my friends. Thank you for daring to tell your story."

Ngoc held the paper, her heart sank. This is exactly why she wanted to establish the Companion Scholarship Fund — not just for the money, but for the feeling of not being alone that a transparent, open program can bring to students who are hiding their struggles.

"I'll keep this," Ngoc said softly, carefully placing it in a separate notebook. "To remind me why I do this."

Ngoc's phone vibrated, a message from Khang appeared on the screen: "Are you free? I have an idea to discuss, it has nothing to do with the election."

Ngoc raised her eyebrows and typed back: "Free. What's going on?"

"I'm at a coffee shop near school, can you stop by? I want to show you this in person."

Ngoc glanced at Trang, who raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "What is it, a date?"

"It's not a date," Ngoc glared at her friend, her face heating up even though she didn't understand why. "Probably just discussing the campaign."

Half an hour later, Ngoc was at the small coffee shop near the school gate, where Khang was already sitting at a corner of the table, in front of a thick sketchbook, open with detailed architectural drawings.

"What is this?" Ngoc sat down, curiously looking at the meticulous drawings spread out on the page — an image of a completely redesigned campus area, with glass domes, open spaces, and green areas.

"After our conversation the other day," Khang explained, his voice a bit shy but his eyes sparkling with rare excitement, "I came home and couldn't sleep. I started painting the old warehouse behind the gym - a place that had been abandoned for several years. I thought, if I turned it into a common creative space - where students could draw, make films, build models, organize exhibitions - it would solve the problem I told you about."

Ngoc flipped through each sketchbook page, amazed at the detail and enthusiasm in each drawing. "Khang, this... is really beautiful. Did you draw it all yourself?"

"Yes," Khang nodded, a little proud. "I learned technical drawing from an online course, hiding it from my parents for two years. This is probably the first time I've shown my drawings to someone other than myself. hey."

Ngoc looked at him, feeling the weight of that trust. "Thank you for showing me. Actually, I think this is a great idea — and it could work perfectly with my Companion Scholarship Fund. Who knows, part of the fund can be used to renovate this space, so that disadvantaged students can have the opportunity to access creative activities without having to pay any additional fees."

Khang's eyes lit up. "Do you really think so? I was afraid this idea would sound... impractical, too expensive for the school budget."

"No," Ngoc shook her head firmly. "Great ideas always need a beginning. If we present it clearly, with detailed drawings like this, I believe we will convince both the school board and potential sponsors."

The two spent nearly two hours sitting there, sketching out more details, discussing how to present ideas, and even dividing the work even though no one had officially proposed cooperation. That was the first time Ngoc felt she was not alone in her journey to pursue her goal — even though her companion at this time was her election opponent.

"If I'm going to present this idea to the school board," Ngoc said, lightly tapping her finger on the paper drawing of the warehouse area, "I need a preliminary budget estimate. If I only have a drawing, the first question the principal will ask is where the money comes from."

"I thought about that," Khang nodded, turning to another page in the book, where he had briefly listed the items: repainting the walls, installing glass doors, buying old tables and chairs to liquidate instead of building new ones to save costs. "But I haven't calculated the exact materials yet. My dad knows a few construction contractors, maybe I could ask for a quote, although I... am not sure he would agree to help if he knew this was my project and not something 'serious' as he still defines it."

"Then let's just say it's a group assignment for Technology first," Ngoc suggested, smiling mischievously. "When I have a complete plan, I present it directly to Ms. Ha, so that she can act as a bridge with the school board. There's no need to go through your father in the first place."

Khang laughed, somewhat relieved at that suggestion. "You always have a backup plan, don't you?"

"The habit of someone who used to have to manage many things alone," Ngoc replied, her voice was light but contained a part of the truth about the past years.

The coffee shop owner stopped by and gently reminded that the shop was about to close earlier than usual because of the weekend. The two were startled and looked at the clock, only to realize they had been chatting for so long.

"I guess I should go home," Ngoc said, packing up her books. "But, thank you for this afternoon. Honestly, I didn't think I would harvest so much today."

"I'm the one who should thank you," Khang replied, his eyes sincere. "If it weren't for the conversation I had with you the other day, perhaps these drawings would still just lie in a drawer, never to be seen by anyone."

“Hey,” Khang said as they both prepared to leave, “do you think this is weird? I mean, we're competing with each other, yet we're sitting here discussing joint plans for the future."

Ngoc smiled and nodded. "It's strange. But I think maybe that's the right thing to do. If we only focus on confrontation, who wins and who loses, then in the end it will be the students Our school will lose good ideas like this."

“You know,” Khang said, his voice lowering a bit, “I think I'm starting to understand why you have so many people supporting you. Not because you say it well, but because you really believe in what you say."

That unexpected compliment made Ngoc a bit embarrassed. "You're not bad," she replied, trying to keep her voice neutral. "You just need time to find out what you truly believe in. And it looks like you've found it, judging by these drawings."

On the way home, Ngoc couldn't stop thinking about the past afternoon. She told herself that this was simply a cooperation for the common benefit of the entire school's students, nothing more. But every time she remembered Khang's eyes shining with enthusiasm when talking about her drawing, a strange warm feeling crept into her heart — a feeling that she wasn't ready to name.

Coming home, Ngoc saw her mother sitting next to an old sewing machine in the corner of the living room, the yellow light shining on her face, which had many wrinkles from years of hard work. Ms. Trinh Thi Lan looked up when she heard the door open.

"Are you home yet? Have you eaten?" she asked, her hand still continuing to thread the needle through the fabric.

"I'll eat outside for now, Mom," Ngoc replied, sitting in the chair opposite, watching her mother work for a while. "Mom, today my running mate and I discussed a great idea. We plan to renovate the old warehouse behind the gym into a common creative space for students."

"Sounds good," Ms. Lan smiled, not stopping. "Who is running for election with me? That guy you mentioned the other day is your son and works at the council?"

"Yes, Nguyen Khang," Ngoc nodded, a bit surprised that her mother still remembered that detail. "He's... different from what I originally thought. He has a lot of good ideas, it's just that no one has really listened to him before."

Mrs. Lan stopped and looked at her daughter for a moment with loving, searching eyes. "You talk about that friend with a very strange look, Ngoc."

"Mom!" Ngoc blushed and waved her hand. "I'm just talking about work cooperation."

"Yeah, that's all I said," Mrs. Lan smiled softly, returning to the needle and thread. "Whether it's work or not, I just hope you always maintain your kindness and principles, no matter who you're with on the road ahead."

Ngoc nodded, an indescribable warmth rising in her heart at her mother's simple advice. She knows that, even though the election road ahead still has many challenges, she will always have a solid fulcrum to return to - and she doesn't yet know that, in another corner of the city, a not-so-good plan is gradually being drawn up by the third opponent in this race.