After the school bell rings
The drumbeat marking the start of the new school year resounded, full and resonant, spreading like ripples across the courtyard of Thong Nhat High School. Beneath the flame-red blossoms of the flamboyant trees, hundreds of faces in white uniforms simultaneously turned towards the stage, carrying with them the excitement of a journey that had just begun...
Short stories by Nguyen Dinh Anh
1.
The drumbeat signaling the start of the new school year resounded, full and resonant, spreading like ripples across the courtyard of Thong Nhat High School. Beneath the flame-red blossoms of the flamboyant trees, hundreds of faces in white uniforms simultaneously turned towards the stage, carrying with them the excitement of a journey just beginning.
Outside the iron gate, amidst the dwindling crowd of parents, a boy stood silently. His white shirt, meticulously washed, was faded at the elbows. His sandals still bore the red dust from the village road of Rú Voi. He stood upright, his hands gently clasped together, his eyes not fixed on the fluttering flag but quietly on the large drum in the courtyard. When the second drumbeat sounded, he smiled faintly.
Uncle Tư, the security guard who had been with the school for over 20 years, stepped out to close the gate slightly. He recognized the boy. For nearly ten days since the start of the school year, the boy had ridden his old bicycle to the school every morning, parked it under the banyan tree across the road, and quietly watched the students go to class. When the schoolyard was empty, he would go to the Green Library, sit and read until the school bell rang, then politely say goodbye to the librarian and leave. He had never once asked for a favor or complained about anything.
Uncle Tư slowly asked:
– You haven't come home yet?
The boy bowed his head slightly:
– Yes... I want to hear the entire opening ceremony drumbeat.
He looked closely at that tanned face, and suddenly remembered:
– I am...
He nodded slightly.
– Yes, I'm Xuan Dat... the one who was half a point short of getting into your school.
2.
The lingering sound of drums in the early autumn wind made Dat suddenly remember a late June afternoon. That day, the entire village of Ru Voi seemed hotter than usual because of the news about the 10th-grade entrance exam results. From one end of the hamlet to the other, people would ask each other: "Whose child passed?", "How many points did they get?". On old mobile phones, the score lookup page would open and close repeatedly amidst sighs or cheers of joy.
Dat cycled nearly 10 kilometers from town back home with only one number in his head: 0.5. He was just half a point short.
The red dirt road leading into the village still wound its way at the foot of Mount Voi. On either side of the road, the freshly harvested peanut fields still smelled of fresh earth. Everything was the same as usual, only the boy's steps suddenly felt much heavier.
Dat's house nestled at the foot of the hill. The old tiled roof was faded. On the porch, his mother was sorting vegetables to take to the market the next morning. Seeing her son bring his bike in, she only asked softly:
– Did you get your score, son?
Dat nodded.
- Yes.
- Is that Okay?
He was silent for a moment, then replied:
– We're half a point short, Mom.
The mother said nothing more. She bent down and continued picking vegetables, but her usually nimble hands suddenly slowed down.
That afternoon, Dat's father came home late from his construction job. After listening to his wife's story, he silently washed his face and sat for a long time on the doorstep. The new bicycle he had promised to buy for his son if he got into a public school was still sitting untouched in his accounting notebook, among the bills for bricks, cement, and the school year debts of his daughters.
Dat was the youngest child, and the only son after five older sisters. On a January morning when he was born, his father named him Xuan Dat, with a simple wish: that this spring, the family would be better off and that his son would study hard and become a successful person. The name stayed with him as he grew up amidst the rainy and sunny seasons of Ru Voi village, through his journeys to school on an old bicycle with countless tire replacements, and through nights studying under the makeshift electric lights borrowed from a neighbor's house.
Dat was a good student. His middle school teachers often said he had a talent for literature, and that he was diligent and calm. Therefore, when they learned that Dat was just half a point short of getting into Thong Nhat High School, the most disappointed people weren't just his family. But Dat himself was the calmest. That evening, he quietly put away the application documents he had prepared months earlier in his desk drawer. Then, opening his notebook, on the first page where he had carefully written "Goal: Thong Nhat High School," he simply underlined it with another stroke of ink and gently closed the notebook.
3.
In the last days of August, the grounds of Thong Nhat High School were more bustling than ever. Tenth-grade students arrived to receive their class assignments, have their uniforms measured, and get acquainted with new friends. Laughter and chatter filled the newly repainted corridors. Only Xuan Dat maintained his daily routine of cycling from Ru Voi village to school every morning.
No longer standing silently outside the gate like in the early days, Dat quietly walked into the Green Library. It was an open reading space that the school had created for all book-loving children in the area, regardless of where they studied. The librarian, who had known him for a long time, would smile every time she saw his old bicycle parked under the crape myrtle tree:
- What book are you reading today, Dat?
He politely replied and then found his usual corner table by the window. After finishing each book, he carefully wrapped the cover and placed it back in its proper position on the shelf. Seeing the librarian struggling alone to move several boxes of new books, he quietly went to help. Watering the potted plants on the porch, wiping the tables still covered in chalk dust, neatly arranging the chairs after reading time... all of these were tasks Dat did himself, without anyone asking him to.
Once the librarian expressed her concern:
- You've been coming up here like this for so long, don't you feel lonely?
Dat smiled slightly:
- Yes... while I'm here, I still feel like I haven't left school yet.
That answer left her speechless.
One afternoon, as Dat was reading "A Turbulent Childhood," a man stopped by the bookshelf. It was Mr. Minh, the literature teacher. He had seen the skinny student many times before, but that day was the first time he had sat down next to him.
Which school do you attend?
Be honest:
- Yes... I'll probably be going to a different school this year.
Why "sure"?
Dat remained silent for a few seconds, then timidly replied:
- Because... I'm half a point short of getting into Thong Nhat University.
Teacher Minh nodded and looked at the book in Dat's hand, then changed the subject:
- Do you enjoy reading literature?
Dat gently stroked the page of the book.
Yes. I like stories that encourage people to live more honestly.
Teacher Minh closed the book and smiled:
Then don't let yourself drift away from those stories!
Dat bowed his head slightly:
But... I'm not a student at this school.
The teacher looked out at the courtyard, which was still and sunless.
- A school is not just a classroom...
He pointed toward the bookshelves.
- As long as you keep coming here to study, I believe you're never standing outside its gates.
Dat looked up. Those words stayed with him all the way home on his bike in the fading twilight.
From that day on, whenever he had time in the afternoon, Mr. Minh would stop by the library for a few minutes. Sometimes the two of them would just exchange a few words about a book, a character, or a beautiful passage. Neither of them mentioned the missing point anymore.
4.
It was the afternoon of September 3rd. The first autumn rain had just stopped. Drops of water still clung to the crape myrtle trees in front of the Boarding House. In the small room at the end of the administrative building, the Admissions Board of Thong Nhat High School was meeting to review the final list of 10th-grade students before the start of the school year.
The secretary stood up to report:
- Sir, Nguyen Quoc Huy, a student in class 10A3, has submitted a request to withdraw his application. His family is relocating to Binh Duong for work, so he will be enrolling at a new school.
The principal flipped through the admissions list.
According to regulations, the school still has one vacancy. We will select the next student in line, based on their scores.
The secretary opened the computer. The mouse cursor slowly stopped at the first name: Xuan Dat. The admission score was only half a point lower than the cutoff score.
The meeting ended. The secretary picked up the phone and dialed the number listed in the file. On the other end, the phone rang for a long time before someone answered.
- Hello...
It was the voice of a man exhausted after a day working as a construction laborer.
- Hello, I'm calling from Thong Nhat High School...
Before the man could hear the whole sentence, he quickly replied:
- No... my child won't be submitting an appeal anymore, ma'am. The family has no objections either...
The secretary smiled:
- Please calm down, sir. I'm calling to inform you that the school is inviting Xuan Dat to come and complete the enrollment procedures tomorrow morning.
On the other end of the line, all I could hear was the wind blowing through the construction site.
It took a moment before the man's voice, choked with emotion, could be heard:
- Are you... are you serious?
Just then, from the courtyard, the sound of drums rehearsing for the opening ceremony suddenly rang out. That familiar sound, carried by the wind, passed through the windows of the Council Room and echoed all the way to the small house at the foot of Elephant Hill, where a student still thought he could only stand outside the gate to listen.
5.
The morning of September 5th. The opening ceremony drums echoed across the sun-drenched courtyard. Today, Xuan Dat was no longer standing outside the gate. His white shirt was still the same one his mother had stayed up almost midnight mending at the cuffs. His sandals still bore the red dust of the road from Ru Voi village. The only difference was that on his chest he wore a small badge bearing the name Thong Nhat High School.
After the ceremony ended, the students followed their homeroom teacher back to their classrooms. Dat walked a little slower and then turned towards the Green Library. The librarian was watering the potted plants on the porch. Seeing him, she just smiled.
Are you here to borrow books today?
Dat shook his head slightly.
- Yes... I came to thank you, teacher.
Mr. Minh walked from the end of the hallway. He said nothing, but simply took a blue-covered notebook from the shelf and opened it to the last pages.
Xuan Dat's name appeared regularly for 14 days. Next to each reading was a few small lines of text from the librarian: "Take care of the books."... "Actively organize the bookshelves."... "Stay and help the two little ones find stories"...
The teacher closed the notebook. When the admissions committee reviewed the list, someone asked, "Besides the scores, what else do we know about this student?" He gently placed the notebook back on the shelf. At that time, no one brought the notebook into the meeting room, but almost everyone in the school already knew the student.
Dat bowed his head. His hand gently stroked the badge, still smelling of new fabric. Outside, the first autumn leaves of the banyan tree rustled softly in the wind. The opening ceremony drums had long since fallen silent, only a few faint echoes lingering in the corridors...
