Chapter 19 — The Thirteenth Desk Drawer

Three months passed with the sound of drilling, the smell of paint and long meetings. Block C was inspected, the electrical lines were replaced and the old windows were retained. The new reading room has low bookshelves, long tables, and a scanner to digitize documents. Table number thirteen is placed in a glass cabinet, but the desk drawer is still open.

One morning, An Khe discovered a yellow piece of paper in her desk drawer. She immediately called Khoi. The handwriting on the paper is not that of Mai, Ms. Hanh or those who wrote it before.

“If you have come this far, find the person who first taught the table to keep secrets.”

Below is a symbol: C-13-2009.

Khoi checked the book to borrow books. Code C-13-2009 leads to a notebook belonging to Ms. Thu, who was in charge of the block C library before retiring. Mrs. Thu lives in an alley near the old station. Every afternoon she takes care of some pots of bougainvillea flowers in front of the door. When An Khe and Khoi came, she was not surprised.

“You finally read that page,” she said, then invited the two of them into the house.

Ms. Thu said that in 2009, when Mai first entered school, she realized that she often sat alone in the library. Mai didn't have money to buy reference books, so her grandmother lent her a key to the reading room. After the scholarship, Mai sent her letters but did not want her to transfer to school. She just wanted someone to know that she wasn't making it up.

“So the pieces of paper in the desk drawer are yours?” Khoi asked.

"Some are Mai's. Some are Ms. Hanh's. The recent piece is yours."

Mrs. Thu took out a tin box. In it were copies of letters, some old keys and a tape recorder. She put the first pieces of paper on her desk many years ago, after hearing Mai say she couldn't go back to school. She didn't know if anyone had found them. When An Khe moved in, Ms. Hanh discovered that the table had been reused and she and Ms. Thu continued to leave questions.

“Why don't you tell us directly?” An Khe asked.

"Because if adults tell everything, the children will only memorize the conclusions. I want them to ask themselves questions, then know how the answers change themselves."

An Khe does not completely agree. There were times when she found herself pushed into a maze without knowing who was holding the map. Mrs. Thu realized that, so she added that secrets are not always noble. Sometimes adults call silence protection, but it's actually just fear of being responsible. She apologized for letting An Khe and Khoi bear the confusion.

The recording tape was played on an old machine. Mai's voice from twelve years ago rang out, younger and more trembling: "If one day someone hears, please don't consider me a sad story. I just want to know if the school can remember someone who is no longer there."

The recording is only three minutes long. Then there was the sound of a chair being pulled out, the sound of a door closing, and the sound of rain. Khoi turned off the phone. No one said anything for a while.

Mrs. Thu gave the tin box to Mai, but Mai said it should be kept in the storage room with her consent. She said she used to think these objects were the only evidence that helped her survive. Now she wants them to be a reminder for many people, not an anchor pulling her back to the past.

The school board announced its findings at the end of the month. Three people were disciplined, one person was held financially responsible. Mr. Phuc received a warning and asked to work without pay on a student support project while waiting for a decision. Mai said she did not object, but also did not consider it a complete atonement.

Block C was officially named Reading Room Thirteen. Next to the table is a small sign: "Every file has someone behind it. Read with your eyes, and verify with responsibility."

On the opening day, Ms. Thu did not go on stage. She sat in the corner of the room, instructing a group of students to enter data. Khoi hung the new diagram, An Khe arranged Mai's letters in chronological order. Tuong Vy is in charge of the water counter, even though she makes tea so strong that everyone who drinks it has to find more filtered water.

Late in the afternoon, An Khe opened the desk drawer for the last time. There is no piece of paper. She was a bit disappointed. Khoi stood behind her and asked her what instructions she was waiting for.

“Maybe I'm used to other people leaving questions.”

“So you write it yourself.”

An Khe took a pen and put a blank sheet of paper in the desk drawer. She wrote: "From today, no one has to guess whether they are worthy of being heard or not. If you have something to say, open the door."

She did not sign her name. Khoi read it and said it was a bit like a slogan. An Khe tried to tear it, but he held her hand.

“The slogan is fine,” he said. “As long as the writer is willing to do it right.”

Outside, the door to block C opened. A junior student stood timidly in the doorway, asking if he could come in and read a book. Khoi replied yes, then pulled out another chair. The empty chair next to table number thirteen has long been no longer reserved for a single person.

The final piece of paper leads An Khe to Mrs. Thu, but the truth about the writer does not make her feel victorious. Mrs. Thu is not an omnipotent mysterious person. She was just a librarian who had seen too many students overlooked, so she kept what she could keep. Ms. Hanh is not a hero either; She used to be silent, then chose to correct it in a slow and correct way.

An Khe asked Mrs. Thu if the pieces of paper were a game. She said at first they were just a way to remind Mai that she wasn't forgotten. When An Khe appeared, the questions changed hands. She was afraid the group of students would be too curious, but they learned to stop in front of the door. That's why she continued.

The tape was digitized and saved in two copies. Mai listened to her voice again, then asked to add a description: "The recording is at the discretion of the speaker to use." She didn't want her voice to be reduced to a cheap inspirational quote.

The reading room organizes a tutorial session on document verification. Khoi shows how to read file information, An Khe talks about sources and context, Tuong Vy gives an example of a news story with a misleading title. The lesson is not graded, but everyone must submit a real question.

One student wrote: "If I see my friend being bullied but am afraid of getting involved, what should I do?" Mai read that sentence and said not to answer with general advice. Find a trustworthy adult, keep the evidence safe, and don't let the victim have to prove it alone. The answer is recorded on the board, without Mai's name.

Hoang Lam completed the first refund. He is not allowed to go to the reading room without an appointment. Mai says it's not about revenge, it's about boundaries. Some students thought he had been punished enough. Some others think not yet. An Khe does not judge. She only clearly stated the decisions that belong to the school and those that belong to the people affected.

On the official opening day, the Thirteen Reading Room sign did not have the sponsor's name. Below is a small line: “A learning space revitalized by students, alumni and the community.” Mrs. Thu stood in front of the sea, using her hand to stroke the new paint. Ms. Hanh gave the key to Khoi, then gave a copy to An Khe.

“Why us?” An Khe asked.

“Because you have learned that holding the door does not mean holding the power.”

In the evening, when everyone had returned, An Khe checked desk number thirteen. A blank sheet of paper lay inside, without a message. She tried to take it out, but Khoi told her to leave it. The next person may need a blank page rather than a ready-made question.

They locked the reading room door. Outside in the yard, the new light is soft, not shining directly into the faces of people passing by. Block C still has a lot of work to do, but this time no one is calling it an annex. Every screw, every replica, and every chair is a way of saying that this place won't disappear just because people stop mentioning its name.

Before leaving school, An Khe turned back to check her desk drawer. The blank piece of paper was still there, but there was another line written by a junior student: "I don't know where to start asking." An Khe did not delete it. She placed a small sheet of instructions next to it, writing down who to contact and how to stay safe while telling the story.

Khoi said the desk drawer would soon be full. An Khe said they will create more compartments. A listening place cannot be just one place. He nodded, then wrote down the idea in the repair book as if it were a construction project.

Mrs. Thu called and asked if they understood the last piece of paper. An Khe says they understand that no mystery writer has to solve everything. Mrs. Thu smiled and said that was enough. Adults sometimes just hope students don't repeat the way they used to stay silent.

The next day, the reading room received twelve more books sent by former students. One book had a dedication for Mai, but she suggested removing the personal name and keeping the book's content. She says it's important that future readers get a new story, not be forced to remember a person in a single way.