Chapter 16 — Late Table Lady

The council meeting took place in a glass room on the eighteenth floor of Khai An Hotel. An sat at the end of the table, next to teachers Hoang and Khang. Mai, Huy, and Nhu stand in the back with a photo board and a rain garden model. Everyone wore uniforms, except An who wore a simple shirt her mother chose, without any logo.

One council member opened by saying: “We are talking about a piece of land with commercial value, not a playground.”

Huy said softly: "The playground is also valuable, it's just not included in the price list."

Khang stepped on Huy's shoe to keep him quiet.

Mr. Hoang introduced the project. As presented survey four hundred and twelve responses. Mai shows photos of students reading, avoiding those who haven't given permission. Huy played an audio clip: a security guard said that the backyard used to be a place for students to hide from the sun, and a cleaning lady said that was where she sat to rest between shifts.

An presented an alternative entrance plan. She stated that the cost increased by eight percent, construction time increased by ten days, but the school kept the yard and the hotel still had service lines. One person asked if the student could maintain it.

Khang replied: "We have set up a duty schedule, a loan book and a repair plan. The car repair shop in the neighborhood will support tools, the environmental club will support trees. Not everything is free, but we know who is responsible."

The other person asked: "What if after six months the yard is abandoned?"

An replied: "Then we re-evaluate with data, not with predictions. If it's not effective, we can change the way we use it. But breaking it from the beginning is a decision that cannot be undone."

Her father sat opposite, showing no emotion. When An finished speaking, he asked: "If the company chooses the short-term parking option, what will you do?"

“I will clearly tell everyone the reason, and find an alternative location before construction.”

“If there is no location?”

“I wouldn't call it a solution.”

The meeting room was quiet. Khang looked at An, the corners of his lips curled slightly.

The Council has not decided yet. They requested additional traffic and maintenance cost assessments. It's not victory, but time. On the way down the elevator, Huy announced: "We survived the glass room. I propose to celebrate with cake."

“You only think about cake,” Mai said.

“Cake is the symbol of projects with a budget.”

Father An called her in the lobby. He told the group to go ahead. An stood still, watching the receptionist pass by elegantly dressed customers.

“What do you think, Dad?” she asked.

“You presented well.”

“Don't give comments like grading.”

Father sighed. "I think you understand that keeping the yard is not simple. I also understand that the company cannot ignore numbers just because of a beautiful story."

“I didn't ask to let it go.”

"I know. I request that we put in the full number."

An nodded. Father gave her a file. "Preliminary traffic report. You can read it. Do not take photos or send them out."

“I understand.”

“And An…”

“Yes?”

"I'm sorry for locking the card without telling you when. I thought the pressure would make you understand quickly."

An was surprised. She doesn't hear her father apologize often. “I'm also sorry for thinking everything could be resolved by protesting.”

“So let's make progress together.”

In class, the group welcomed An with a small cake with the words "Not yet won but not yet lost". Huy himself wrote in cream so the word "not yet" is like "yet". Mai repaired with a spoon.

Khang gave An a glass of iced tea. “I heard you survived.”

“Aren't you asking if I speak well?”

"If you say it's not good, you'll argue. If you say it well, you'll be shy."

“So what do you say?”

“You said the right thing.”

An looked at him. A simple sentence made her happier than any compliment in the meeting room.

But that night, an anonymous email was sent to Mr. Hoang, accusing the project of receiving secret funding from An's family. Attached is a photo of a printed invoice, a photo of a black car picking up An and a photo of her giving medicine to Mai. The teacher forwarded the email to the group for processing.

Like angry. “They are turning every action into evidence.”

“I can make a three-hour rebuttal video,” Huy said.

“No one watched,” Khang replied.

An opens each photo. She remembers those moments: the car picking her up at the gate, the receipt, the medicine box. Nothing was completely wrong, but when taken apart from the story, they looked like evidence against her.

“I will make it all public,” An said.

Khang asked: "What about medicine for Mai?"

"No need. That's Mai's private matter."

"Correct."

An makes a list of data that can be made public: printed sources, support minutes, duty schedules, surveys, costs, traffic plans. Personal stories are crossed out. Like posting a short notice, do not name the email sender.

Huy read the draft. “There are no shocking sentences.”

“Transparency, no need to shock,” An replied.

Khang nodded. “Post it.”

The notice is posted on the bulletin board. At first, few people read it. Then a teacher sends it to another class. Questions appear, the group answers during a set time in the backyard, no arguments under the post.

A friend asked An if she felt unfair when others hated her just because of her family. An replied: "Yes. But I also understand the feeling of injustice of people who think they have priority. I can't ask everyone to believe right away; I can only let what I do verify."

In the afternoon, Khang took her home by bicycle because the bus was stuck. An sat in the back, holding the paint bucket, trying to keep his balance through the alley. When the car bumped, she grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she said.

"It's okay. My shoulder hasn't been charged yet."

“Can you stop talking like a price list?”

"Are not."

The two stopped in front of the store. The roof has been repaired, the new color is brighter. Khang's grandmother told the worker to charge less than expected because Khang removed the old part himself. An stood and watched, seeing that a small matter had been resolved by many people contributing, no one was turned into a hero.

On the porch, Khang said: “Do you want to see the traffic report?”

"Have."

"Don't read it yourself. I don't understand the data."

“You just said you could read.”

“I said read along.”

An opens the file. The two of them sat next to each other, amidst the smell of wood and the sound of the radio. She pointed to an expense line, Khang pointed to a road on the map. By dark, they had three more questions for the council.

An urgent application. “Let's do it again tomorrow.”

Khang nodded. “The last table has no vacation.”

“I will add it to the rules.”

"Don't. Huy will use it to force us to work all Sunday."

From inside the shop, Huy shouted: "I heard it!"

An smiled. The backyard hasn't been saved yet, but the conversation has opened up. For her, it was a kind of victory that had no cake, but could stand like a shelf through the rain.

That night, An opened the traffic report his father lent him. She read each line slowly, marking any areas she didn't understand. There is a graph showing increased vehicle traffic over the weekend, but no figures on people walk. She texted Khang, asking if the shop could record customer arrival times for a week.

Khang replied: "Yes, but you must tell the customer that data is being recorded."

An smiled. He became the person who reminded her about privacy everywhere.

The next day, they placed a small notice in the shop. Some guests did not want to participate and the group ignored them. The remaining number lists the time, vehicle type and reason for arrival, without names. Data shows that many students visit the store after school, right when the service line is expected to have trucks.

Khang pointed to the board. “If delivery times are changed, students will be safer.”

An added to the question list. “And the shop doesn't lose customers.”

At school, the group tried a meeting without An as the initiator. As quoted, Huy recorded, Khang gave technical answers. An sat in the corner, only speaking when asked. At first she felt uncomfortable because she couldn't control the rhythm, but then realized that her friends expressed the problem in a different way and had ideas she hadn't thought of.

Teacher Hoang said: "A leader is not the first person to speak. It is someone who does not stop the conversation when he is silent."

An wrote down that sentence, then closed the book. She knew she had a long way to go, but she had a tryout.

Before leaving the meeting room, a member asked the group if the field was kept, who would be responsible in case of an incident. An did not answer for the class. As the monitoring model was presented, Khang talked about error reporting, Mai talked about privacy, Huy talked about broadcasting time. Everyone gets a part, no one gets anything.

Father An looked at the board, then asked if students needed electrical safety training. Khang replied yes, and suggested inviting a Physics teacher. An adult takes notes. An saw that his father's question had changed from "is it worth it" to "how to do it safely".

After the guests left, Huy said the glass room made it difficult for him to breathe. Mai opened the window, Khang gave her water. An asked Huy if he wanted to repeat any part. He shook his head: "I just need to eat cake." The group went to the cake stand, feeling that the tension had been put down a bit.