Chapter 1 — Seeds After the Rain

Part I — Mandatory Volunteer Hours

Cao Gia Huy scrolled through the list of clubs still accepting membership registrations on the school bulletin board. His eyes stopped at the last line: "Environment Club — need to add 20 hours of volunteering to your study abroad scholarship application? This is the most suitable choice."

"Are you really planning to join that club?" Phan Dang Khoi, his best friend, burst into laughter when he heard Gia Huy announce his decision during lunch time. "That club is full of kids who talk all the time about recycling and planting trees. It's boring."

"I just need enough volunteer hours," Gia Huy replied, shrugging his shoulders. "The scholarship requires a minimum of twenty hours of community activities, any club is fine, as long as it's leisurely and doesn't take too much time."

"Then it's the right club," Dang Khoi smiled and patted his friend's shoulder. "I heard there are very few people in that club. Maybe just taking attendance for a few sessions will be enough time."

That afternoon, Gia Huy went to the area behind the school, where the Environmental Club lived, according to the address listed on the registration form. He was surprised to discover that it was not a regular classroom, but a small garden hidden behind the gymnasium, with lush vegetable beds, a few small fruit trees, and a climbing trellis that was starting to bloom.

"Are you a new member?" A female voice rang out, causing Gia Huy to turn around. A girl wearing soil-stained work clothes, her hair tied up, was standing in the middle of a vegetable patch, holding a small shovel in her hand, looking at him with searching eyes.

"Yes, I'm Gia Huy," he replied, trying to keep his familiar friendly smile. "I signed up to join the club to get volunteer hours."

The girl — Dinh Quynh Nhu, the club's president — slightly frowned at that straightforward answer. "Just to get volunteer hours?" she asked again, her voice unable to hide her slight disappointment.

"Um, that's right," Gia Huy replied, a bit confused by that less-than-enthusiastic reaction. He was used to people always welcoming him warmly no matter where he appeared, so this reserved attitude felt a bit strange to him.

"Okay," Quynh Nhu sighed, pointing towards a pile of gardening tools in the corner. "Get that shovel and help me shovel the soil in the left bed. If you just need to take attendance, at least do something useful while you're here."

Gia Huy, although a bit surprised by the actual labor requirement instead of just signing attendance as he imagined, still reluctantly took the shovel and started tilling the soil according to instructions. The work was harder than he thought. After only ten minutes, his clean white shirt was covered in dust, making him grumble in his heart.

"Be careful, don't dig too deep in the seedling root area," Quynh Nhu reminded, her voice somewhat stern when she saw him doing it carelessly. "Every tree here has been taken care of by the whole club for the past two years. You can't do whatever you want."

"Sorry," Gia Huy replied, adjusting his movements, although secretly thinking that this girl was a bit too serious with a small garden with only a few vegetable beds.

Throughout that afternoon, Gia Huy worked in silence, occasionally glancing at Quynh Nhu who was meticulously taking care of each tree stump with a devotion that made him curious. She was unlike anyone he had ever met—not interested in impressing, not trying to be friendly in the usual social way, simply completely immersed in her work.

"Why are you so passionate about gardening?" Gia Huy couldn't help but ask, while the two were resting and drinking water under the shade of a tree.

Quynh Nhu looked at him for a moment, as if considering whether to answer that question or not. "This garden is the only place at school where I feel like I can actually create something meaningful," she replied, her voice surprisingly sincere. “Everything else is constantly changing, but a tree, if you care for it properly, will always be there, growing with time, no matter what things are around.”

That answer, simple but full of philosophy, made Gia Huy suddenly silent, a strange feeling rising in his heart that he had not yet named - perhaps a bit of jealousy at that steadfastness, something that he himself, after many years of constantly moving house for his parents' work, had never really had.

"You sound like you've thought a lot about this," Gia Huy said, sitting down on a nearby stone, curious to hear more.

"Well," Quynh Nhu replied, looking far away at the garden, "my family moved here when I was in sixth grade, and my dad was the first person to plant that mango tree," she pointed to a small flowering mango tree in the corner of the garden. "My dad passed away when I was in eighth grade, but that mango tree continues to grow every year. Maybe that's why I always feel like taking care of this garden is like keeping a part of my dad."

Gia Huy remained silent, not expecting his seemingly innocuous question touch such a profound story. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "I didn't mean to be too curious."

"It's okay," Quynh Nhu smiled slightly, for the first time since he arrived, a real smile and not just social politeness. "Rarely does anyone ask me about that. Most people just think I'm a strange person who worries about farming all day."

"I don't think so," Gia Huy replied, suddenly honest. "I think that's quite... special."

Quynh Nhu looked at him for a moment, a bit surprised at that unexpected sincerity from someone she had assumed was only there for practical purposes. "Thank you," she said, standing up and brushing her hands. "Okay, enough rest, I still have to water the tomato bed before it gets dark."

Gia Huy stood up as well, feeling his body tired from the manual labor he was never used to, but in his heart he had a strange feeling, almost like satisfaction, when he looked at the bed of soil he had just plowed, neat and ready for new seeds.

As the afternoon gradually ended, Gia Huy left the garden with dirty hands and a complicated mood that he had never experienced after any club activities before - not exactly excitement, but certainly no longer the initial indifference when he stepped into this place just because he needed enough volunteer hours for a scholarship application.

On the way home, Dang Khoi texted to ask, along with a few teasing smiley emojis. "What's going on, how was your first day at the tree planting club? Were you forced to sing a nature-loving song?"

Gia Huy looked at the message, suddenly smiled, and typed back: "Nothing special, just plowing the soil and watering vegetables." He didn't tell more about the story of the mango tree, about Quynh Nhu's rare smile, feeling like there was something private he didn't want to share right away, even though he didn't know why he felt that way.

When he got home, the apartment still had a few unfinished cartons from moving here at the beginning of the school year - the fifth move in his life, since he was in elementary school. His parents, both working in the construction industry, often had to move to different construction projects across the country, dragging the whole family with them each time they changed work locations.

Gia Huy has learned how to quickly adapt to new environments — how to make friends easily, how to integrate instantly into any group of friends, a skill he has honed over many school changes. But along with that came a silent feeling of emptiness that he rarely allowed himself to think about — the feeling of someone who was always "new friends" everywhere, never having had enough time to truly take root in any place.

He lay down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling of the room that still lacked a few decorations because he had learned not to invest too much emotionally in any place, knowing that he might have to move again in just a year or two. The image of the small mango tree in the garden, which had existed and grown for six years in one place, kept lingering in his mind, like a reminder of something he had never had but perhaps, deep down, he had always longed for it.

Before falling asleep, he opened the calendar on his phone and took note of the next club activity the following Thursday. He told himself that he only needed to attend the necessary number of sessions to complete the twenty hours of volunteering, and that there was no need to commit to anything else. But when he put down the phone and turned off the room lights, the image of the small garden in the afternoon sunlight, along with the rare smile of that strange club headmistress, still quietly appeared in his mind, causing sleep to come later than usual.