Chapter 11 — The Thirteenth Desk Drawer

Mai responded three days later with a short message: **I don't want to be anyone's proof. But I want to know if the school still has that desk.**

An Khe read the message to the group. Thu asked if Mai would agree to meet. Khoi said to ask in advance for a safe place, time and who to go with. Hao suggested a tea shop, then was reminded by the group that a meeting about twelve years of injustice could not be chosen based on the criteria of having a lot of jelly.

Mai met them at the old station on Saturday afternoon. She arrived with a blue cloth bag, short-cut hair and a face more calm than the voice on the recorder. No one called her "the wronged person". An Khe introduced each person, then let Mai choose a seat. Mai looked at the cake Hao brought and asked if he was the one who talked the most. Hao admitted, saying he was trying to reduce it but was not successful.

Mai smiled. Her laughter makes her different from the girl in the photo. She said that after leaving school, she moved to three places, worked as a data entry and studied again at night. She didn't want to go back because every time she heard someone mention "scholarship fund", she found herself standing in front of the principal's office and having to prove she wasn't a thief.

An Khe showed her a copy of the file, not the original. Mai read each page, stopping at the teacher's signature. She wasn't angry, just asked: "Is she still teaching?"

"Still."

"That's good. People should live long enough to listen to their own words."

Mai opened the cloth bag, took out a thin notebook and a broken key. She said this was the rest of drawer number 13. On leaving school, she took a small piece of wood as a souvenir, but people chased her so she could only keep the key. On the piece of wood, there are words she carved herself: "Don't let the last scene be cut."

“I wrote that down because when everyone had a meeting, they only allowed me to speak for one minute,” Mai said. "One minute is not enough to tell why I opened the fund box, not enough to say who took the book, not enough for people to ask if I need help."

Mai doesn't want to stand in front of the press. She just wants the report to be corrected, the names of the students who were crossed out verified, and the school to apologize in writing. She did not ask Hoang Lam to pay her, but wanted the money that had not yet reached her family to be traced back.

Khoi asked if she remembered who was standing next to the table on September 18. Mai said Hoang Lam and teacher Phuc, but there was a third person: the homeroom teacher. The teacher did not take money, but took a piece of paper and told Mai that if she signed, things would be easier.

“She thought she was saving me,” Mai said. “But saving someone by forcing them to admit their mistakes is not saving.”

On the way home, Mai walked with An Khe. She asked An Khe why a new student wanted to do this. An Khe told about being blamed at her old school, without naming anyone. Mai listened and said: "Don't turn my pain into revenge. If you do, I will be used again."

An Khe nodded. The words made her understand that they had to be more careful with their targets. Justice is not about embarrassing the wrong person in front of the crowd, but about giving back the lost person the right to decide their own story.

At school, the C block project continues. The fence was built higher, and a new billboard covered most of the achievement wall. Tuong Vy sent an email to apologize to the group for previously pressuring them. She revealed that the contract with the school has a clause allowing the company to use the image, but Hoang Lam has not signed the final addendum. If the inspector intervenes before the signing date, the property can be retained.

Mr. Quang opened a student meeting. Tuong Vy stood in front of the class, talking about how she had received a scholarship and thought she had to protect the company at all costs. She apologized for taking the students' questions as a threat. Hao asked if she was still working on the project. Tuong Vy said she didn't know yet, but for the first time she would choose for herself.

After the meeting, An Khe saw a new piece of paper in table number 13: **Returners do not need to ask permission from the table. The person staying behind needs to ask for permission.**

Khoi read, then removed metal piece number 13 from the table leg to polish. He asked An Khe if she wanted to keep Mai's broken key. She shook her head and gave it back to Mai the next time they met. “Your things should stay with you.”

Mai sent a private email address and agreed to let Ms. Mai Huong be her legal representative. She did not want to tell the story publicly, but allowed the group to use her name in the inspection records. She texted: **Don't promise to win. Promise not to cut off what others haven't said.**

That night, An Khe sat by the window studying. Khoi sent a photo of the reinforced table. He repaired the drawer, not removing the old wood to keep the mark. An Khe asked him if he intended to become a carpenter. Khoi said he wanted to learn restoration techniques, because there are things that should be repaired instead of replaced.

“Are you talking about the table or the person?”

“What do you think?”

An Khe looked at the message and realized she was smiling. Before she could answer, a new message from an unknown number appeared.

**Tomorrow, another name will be pushed in front of everyone. Let's see who benefits when the class turns on each other.**

After Duy Khang's story, An Khe suggested that the group stop collecting people's names and switch to collecting actions. Who signs, who keeps, who reports, who stays silent. That way of writing is less sensational, but helps them not turn a whole life into a sticker.

Khoi makes a new time table. Tuong Vy checks every day with school records. Duy Khang sits next to him, sometimes correcting a small detail. Him saying he remembers a day wrong doesn't mean he's lying; Memory is distorted by pressure. An Khe notes that next to each story.

In the evening, Duy Khang sent a text message: "I told my dad. He said if I needed to talk, he would sit next to me." An Khe read and passed it to Ms. Hanh. The story begins with an adult who doesn't tell his child to shut up.

In the morning, the list of members of the fundraising committee appeared in the class group. Duy Khang's name is circled in red. He is the only student on the list still studying in this area, currently working as a teaching assistant for the basketball club. The accompanying message said Duy Khang kept the money and blamed Mai.

Duy Khang came to the club room with a pale face. He did not deny that his name was on the list. He only said that he was only twelve years old and was assigned to write down the amount of money in a small notebook. The person holding the money is an adult.

“Why didn't you say?” An Khe asked.

"Because my dad works as a school security guard. He said if I made a fuss, he would lose his job."

Khoi pulled out a chair for Duy Khang. He asked if he still had the notebook. Duy Khang said he threw it away after Mai quit school, but remembers there was a page recording the car rental fee. He also remembered Hoang Lam gave him an envelope, telling him not to mention it.

“What's in that envelope?”

"Money to buy shoes. I thought it was a reward."

Duy Khang was embarrassed because he accepted. An Khe said that accepting a sum of money did not make him a fund taker, but staying silent gave the rumor a place to live. He nodded and said he would speak to the council if his father allowed him.

During lunch, a group of friends asked An Khe if she was protecting Duy Khang because Khoi liked him. Tuong Vy interrupted and asked if they had any evidence. The question made the whole group silent. They are used to talking about others like talking about a post, but are not used to being responsible for their own words.

Ms. Hanh called Duy Khang and his father. The father wore an old security guard uniform, sitting close to the edge of the chair. He confessed that he once received orders not to let Mai enter the administrative office. He thought it was a regulation, but later found out that the confirmation signature was not enough. He didn't hold her back, just stood at the door. But he remembered the look on her face as she turned away.

“I told my children not to interfere,” he said. "I thought I was protecting it from trouble. I didn't know I was protecting silence."

Duy Khang put his hand on his father's knee. The two of them did not cry, but his hand clasped tightly. An Khe understands that a family can live in the same story but remember it with different fears.

Duy Khang's records help confirm the time the envelope was distributed. However, he asked not to make the amount public because it is a private family matter. Ms. Hanh respects. An Khe edited the note, keeping only information related to cash flow.

That night, the piece of paper in desk number 13 no longer had any names. It reads: “Don't let the person who is easiest to push become a wall for the person standing far away.” An Khe read and tore up the list on the class group. She didn't erase the incident, just the way people turned a boy into a convenient answer.

The next morning, she sent a short notice to the class group, not mentioning Duy Khang, just reminding everyone not to share personal profile photos. Some of you objected, saying she was hiding it. She replied that all relevant information must be verified and the named person has the right to privacy.

Duy Khang read the notice, then asked Ms. Hanh for permission to bring her father to work. He didn't want his story to be reduced by others to just saying "she's also involved". Ms. Hanh agreed and made an appointment for the end of the day. He texted An Khe: "I'm still afraid, but at least this time I know what I'm afraid of."

Khoi said it was a step forward. An Khe isn't sure, but she understands progress doesn't always look like victory. Sometimes it just takes a person being willing to name their feelings instead of letting others guess.