Chapter 8 — The Path of Remembrance

Ms. Phuong looked at me. "To Niem Niem, if you lose something, you have to find it carefully first. You can't arbitrarily accuse your classmates." "I've looked for it. I've looked for both my desk and my school bag, but I can't find it." "So you can't say someone else took it. If you don't have evidence, don't say nonsense." “Miss, yesterday after class, Trieu Giai Giai came back to class.” Ms. Phuong looked at Trieu Giai Giai. “Giai Giai, is there something wrong?” “Yes, I'll go back and get the umbrella.” Ms. Phuong nodded. "Going back to get things is normal. Niem Niem, maybe you left the wrong painting somewhere. After class, please look carefully. If you don't make it in time for the preliminary round, I will tell Ms. Ton to postpone it for you." Things are handled like that. No investigation. No inquiries. Because Trieu Giai Giai is the class vice president. Because what Luc Uyen Dinh said might be a misunderstanding. Because I am a “transfer student with a weak background”. I stood in the middle of the class, everyone around me was looking at me, but no one was on my side. The school bell rang. I returned to my seat and opened the textbook. Lam Tieu Ha gave me a piece of paper from behind. "When school ended, I searched the trash can at the end of the hallway but couldn't find it. As for the paper collection bin next to the art room, I haven't had time to look." My hand tightened on the piece of paper. During lunch break, I don't go to the cafeteria. I went to the waste paper collection bin next to the art room. I searched for ten minutes. At the very bottom, under a pile of old newspapers, I found it. My painting. It was wrinkled and one corner was torn. Gray Gray's ears were folded inward, and there was a deep fold on his mother's face. I squatted next to the cardboard box, shook out the painting, and slowly smoothed it little by little. My hands trembled. Not because of sadness. But out of anger. Miss Sun saw the painting in my hand and also saw the folds and tears on it. “What is going on?” “It's wrinkled.” "Can it still be used? This afternoon is the preliminary round." “Okay.” I spread the paintings on the table and used heavy objects to weigh them down during lunch break. The fold remains, the tear is covered with clear tape from the back. From a distance there's no big deal. If you look closely, you will see that it has been crumpled. That afternoon, three teachers from the district's art research team were judges for the preliminary round. They stopped in front of each entry for a while and then wrote something in their notebooks. When approaching my painting, the teacher wearing glasses standing in the middle stopped. She looked for a long time. Then turned to look at Ms. Ton. Ms. Ton nodded. After finishing grading, Ms. Ton found me. “To Niem Niem, your picture has entered the next round.” “Really?” "The judges said my composition and use of color were not at the level of a fifth grader. But they also paid attention to the folds in the painting." Ms. Ton squatted and looked at me. “Nien Niem, how did this picture get wrinkled?” I looked at her. “Someone else took it out of my desk drawer, crumpled it up and threw it into the paper collection bin.” Ms. Ton's expression immediately became serious. “Do you know who it is?” I opened my mouth, intending to say the name Trieu Giai Giai. But I stopped. Because I suddenly thought of something. Did Trieu Giai Giai think about destroying a contest painting? She didn't even know what competition I was participating in. Unless someone tells her. In the whole class, only two people knew I was preparing for the competition. One person is Ms. Ton. One person is Luc Uyen Dinh. Last time I drew Gray Gray in the art room, Luc Uyen Dinh came to call me for tutoring. I said I was preparing for the competition. She didn't say anything then, just nodded. But the next day, Trieu Giai Giai knew about my participation in the art competition. Because during break time, she once said: "To Niem Niem has been very busy lately, she wants to join the sports team and paint, but she can't bear to mention her achievements." How did she know about my painting? I didn't tell her. Ms. Ton won't tell her. Only Luc Uyen Dinh. And after Luc Uyen Dinh told her, my painting immediately "disappeared". These thoughts rotated in my head. But I have no proof. Like Ms. Phuong said, without evidence, you can't talk nonsense. So, I swallowed the name Trieu Giai Giai down. “I don't know who it is.” Ms. Ton looked at me, seeming to understand something. “Wrong sand

u takes place in two weeks. I have to redraw a better picture. This time, let me keep the fight.” "Yes." When leaving the art room, I met Luc Uyen Dinh in the hallway. She leaned by the window, holding a bottle of yogurt in her hand. Seeing me walk out, she smiled. “Nien Niem, I heard that your picture is in the next round?” “How do you know?” "Miss Ton's office door wasn't closed. I was passing by so I heard it." She brought the yogurt bottle over. “Congratulations, it's for you.” I looked at the yogurt bottle. “No need.” "What's up?" “I'm not thirsty.” I walked past her. After taking two steps, I stopped and turned around. “Uyen Dinh, next time you pass by the art room, help me tell Ms. Ton to lock my new painting in the closet.” "Huh? Why?" “Because the previous picture was accidentally lost. I'm afraid this picture will be lost too." As soon as he heard the three words "lock in the cupboard", Luc Uyen Dinh's hand holding the yogurt stopped. Just a moment.