Chapter 3 — The Path of Remembrance

One afternoon, she brought a tray of food and sat across from me. I thought she wanted to talk to me. It turned out she sat there intentionally to watch me eat. “To Niem Niem, why do you eat so fast?” “Because in the mountains you have to eat while it's still hot, otherwise cold food won't taste good.” “This is not on the mountain.” She looked at the way I held my chopsticks and frowned. “The way you hold your chopsticks is really strange.” I bowed my head and looked. I learned how to hold chopsticks from my father, with my thumb on top and index finger in the middle. While at home, no one ever said there was a problem. "What's strange? Just being able to put food in your mouth is fine." Trieu Giai Giai didn't say anything more, but the next day, the whole class knew that my posture holding chopsticks was "like a farmer's". That description made me want to stick chopsticks on her head for a moment. But I refrained. Because my mother said on the phone that when I go to school, I have to be discreet and not cause trouble. So I don't cause trouble. On the third weekly test, my math improved by fifty-eight points, literature by sixty-two points, and English by thirty-one points. English only increased by three points. Because when tutoring me, Luc Uyen Dinh mainly taught math and literature. As for English, she said: "The knowledge is too basic, just memorize the vocabulary first." But I don't even understand the phonetic symbols, how should I memorize them? On the day the transcripts were distributed, Ms. Phuong praised the top five people in the class. First place, Luc Uyen Dinh. Ms. Phuong told everyone to learn from her. The whole class applauded. Luc Uyen Dinh stood up and smiled modestly. "Thank you everyone. Actually, I still have a lot of bad points." Ms. Phuong continued. "Recently, Uyen Dinh also proactively tutored students with weak backgrounds and is extremely caring for others." The whole class clapped again. Trieu Giai Giai leads the way. I sat in the last row without clapping. It wasn't intentional, it was just that the two hands didn't have time to touch each other. But Ms. Phuong's eyes swept over. "Friend To Niem Niem, although you have improved, the level of progress is still not enough. I hope you appreciate Uyen Dinh's help, don't betray the kindness of others." I said yes. Besides yes, what can I say? After school, Luc Uyen Dinh was still waiting to go with me as usual. On the way, she suddenly said something. "Nien Niem, don't be too pressured. That's the achievement, just take it slow." "Yes." “Actually, I don't need anything to compare with you.” As she said that, she looked at the road ahead. “Each person is good at different things.” If someone else said this, maybe I would feel warmed up. But out of her mouth, I only heard one idea. I can't do it. Moreover, I will never be able to do it. So don't waste any more effort. That evening, I called my mother. “Mom, I want to go home.” "What's up?" “The people here are all…” I thought for a long time without knowing how to describe it. “None of them ride donkeys.” Mom was silent for a moment then burst out laughing. “Niem Niem, someone who doesn't ride a donkey is not necessarily better than someone who rides a donkey.” “But they all feel that the donkey rider is more stupid.” “That's because they've never seen the appearance of Gray riding down from the mountain.” “What if you see it?” “I see, they can't catch up with me either.” I couldn't help but burst out laughing. Hang up the phone, I still don't cry. But as I lay on the big bed in this three-story villa, I deeply missed Gray Gray, the flock of white geese and the hill with my muddy road. The third week, something unexpected happened. Art class. The art class at this school is very systematic, with a separate drawing room and an easel for each person. The art teacher is Ms. Ton. She had long hair, paint on her shirt, and at a glance, you could tell she was a person who truly loved painting. The topic that day was a realistic drawing of the sycamore tree outside the window. The moment he picked up his pencil, all school rules, transcripts, and Trieu Giai Giai's rolling eyes disappeared. When at home, my mother often lets me sit next to her and watch her draw picture books. Watching a lot, I also draw myself. Draw Gray Gray, draw white geese, draw pine trees in the mountains and clouds in the sky. Mom once told me something. Mom said: "Nim Niem, your paintings have a particularly good point, that is, the things you draw look like they are alive." I don't know "living"

What does it mean? I just draw the way I see it. I spent half the class drawing that sycamore tree. Ms. Ton walked around the classroom, came behind me and stopped. She said nothing. Stopped for a long time. It's been so long that even the people next to you noticed. “To Niem Niem.” "Yes?" “Have you ever learned to draw before?” "I've never studied formally. When my mother draws, I often sit next to her and watch." “What does your mother do?” “Draw books for children to read.” Ms. Ton bowed her head again and looked at my painting for a moment. “This tree… you drew very well.” Her voice didn't sound like she was talking to a transfer student whose grades were at the bottom. On the contrary, it was like she was seriously talking about something important. The friends next to me poked their heads over to look, looking a bit surprised. Trieu Giai Giai also turned back to take a look. Her expression changed, but quickly retracted. Luc Uyen Dinh also painted. Her sycamore tree is very neat and has regular lines.