"Hold these five cat's eye marbles for me, take good care of them. I'll pay you back this afternoon."
"Mm."
Phong dropped the marbles into my palm and ran off to play again. I sat there, feeling down—only now did I realize he really just saw me as a supermarket bag-check clerk.
During handwriting practice, I carefully traced each letter. Phong held up a marble right in front of my face. This one was bigger than the others, a soft pink color. Under the classroom lights, it shimmered like magic.
"Pretty, huh?"
"…Yeah."
"I'm giving this one to Yến."
"…"
"And this one's for Mai Mít."
"…"
I glanced at the bright yellow marble.
"As for you, you get this one. I just won it off Phú."
My eyes lit up as I took it, turning it over in my hands. But… it was smaller than the marbles Phong usually played with. It didn't even have any color inside. Just clear. My excitement faded—this was a defective one. And it was for me.
I bent my head down and focused on my work.
When class ended, I waited for Phong while he went off to play arcade games. He told me to sit on the bench under the almond tree and wait fifteen minutes. But I didn't have a watch, and I didn't know how to tell time anyway, so I had no idea how long fifteen minutes actually was. I passed the time by… counting the leaves on the tree.
"Why are you so quiet today?"
We were almost home when Phong nudged me.
"…"
"Got a canker sore or something?"
"…"
"If you don't talk, I'm never playing with you again."
That threat always worked.
"…"
Except this time.
"Yến's birthday is coming up. What should I get her? How about we chip in and you go buy something?"
"…"
"Open your mouth, let me see what's wrong."
Phong suddenly spun around and stood in front of me, making me jump. He raised a thumb, about to press it against my lips like prying open a clam. His hand was filthy from playing in the dirt. I shook my head frantically and blurted out:
"I'm gonna have to take extra English lessons!"
Phong pulled his hand back. We walked the rest of the way home in silence.
•
Yến and Mai Mít were thrilled with the marbles Phong gave them. They said he had to beat a bunch of boys from another class to win those two giant ones. They held them up to the light, rolling them around in their palms, before turning to me.
"What about yours?"
I held out my 'defective' marble, looking miserable.
"That's not even a marble."
"I dunno."
"It's not pretty at all."
To be honest, it was ugly—at least to kids who only liked colorful, flashy things. I sighed and dropped it back into my pocket.
The three of us waited for Phong so we could all go to school together, then walked home together after class. The next day was the same.
"Phong, aren't you hanging out with Phú and the others anymore?"
Not just Yến—both Mai Mít and I had noticed something was off.
"I still do, just not playing arcade games anymore."
"Why?" we all asked at once.
"Ran out of money."
I saw Mai nudge Yến. The two of them giggled. What was that about?
"What're you laughing at?"
Mai leaned in and whispered in my ear.
"Phong's saving up to buy Yến a birthday present, duh!"
I let out an "Ohhh." How did those two figure that out? I had just thought he was broke.
"What?" Phong called back from up ahead.
"They said you're saving—"
Before I could finish, Mai clapped a hand over my mouth. Then she shoved Yến forward, pushing her to walk beside Phong. Yến protested, but I moved up between them. Mai yanked me back down again.
When I got home, Grandpa was watching TV. I ran over and hugged him, absentmindedly stroking his white whiskers.
Grandpa was obsessed with martial arts dramas. Every evening at six, he'd switch straight to VTV3. Lately, they'd been airing Anh Hùng, featuring two male leads, Lâm Phong and Lâm Vũ. Not just Grandpa, but all the boys in the neighborhood were crazy about the show. We only had one TV, and all the neighbors tuned into VTV3 anyway, so like it or not, I had to watch too. My favorite spot was sitting in Grandpa's lap while watching.
"Haha, that Lâm Phong guy is just like my grandkid!"
Hmph. I pouted and slid off his lap, sitting in a corner with my chin in my hands. That guy in the show was such a fool—he'd do whatever anyone told him, always so honest, not sharp and clever like Lâm Vũ. But despite being naïve, every beauty in the show fell for him. That's why I didn't like him. Meanwhile, everyone in the neighborhood adored Lâm Phong.
"Maybe one day, my grandkid will have a bunch of admirers, just like Lâm Phong. Those goofy, clueless types are adorable." Grandpa laughed until tears welled up in his eyes.
I stormed over to the neighbor's house. Uncle Dương and Phong were watching the show.
"Uncle, who do you like more, Lâm Phong or Lâm Vũ?"
"Of course, Lâm Phong! My son's name is Phong, after all. Haha."
"And what about you? You don't like dumb people, right? Lâm Vũ is not only handsome—" (Hic hic, I've been checking out good-looking guys since I was a kid) "—but also smart, just like you!"
I just wanted to find someone who liked Lâm Vũ as much as I did.
"Hmph. My name is Phong Anh, so of course, I like the guy with my name. You're a little airhead, so you should like someone like you."
Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. I hugged the TV, and every time Lâm Phong appeared on screen, I blocked the view with my body.
I wasn't upset because no one shared my taste—I cried because everyone kept calling me dumb.
But even a clueless kid like me could see that Lâm Phong was a fool, which meant the "clueless" label they stuck on me was pretty serious.
And unlike the Lâm Phong in the show, I was also clumsy. I broke a porcelain vase at Phong's house, then went home and banged my head on a cupboard door, and finally shattered a rice bowl. That was when I had to admit—I wasn't just a fool, I was a klutz too.
•
Our music teacher loved Lâm Phong as well. She must've been daydreaming because she called out:
"Lâm Phong, come up to the board."
It wasn't my name, but I still flinched. No one in our class was named Phong. But in the grade book, Lâm Anh and Phong Anh's names were right next to each other. So she called both of us up to sing:
"The Oriole."
And we sang:
"There's a tiny little oriole,
With such a sweet and gentle soul,
Says 'Yes ma'am, yes sir,'
Just like you and me. Right?"
When I finished singing, I turned to look at Phong. He and the whole class were staring at me.
The teacher asked me to sing again. I sang the same way.
But… wasn't the song supposed to be longer? Where were the parts about the red-whiskered bulbul and the nightingale? Last night, all four of us had studied music together, but we just made Yến sing while we listened—no one actually practiced. And now, I'd forgotten the lyrics.
"Go stand in the corner and stay there until you memorize the song."
At the time, I thought I had ruined the teacher's image of Lâm Phong, so that's why she punished me. It was the first time I'd ever been sent to stand in the corner. Everyone in class kept sneaking glances at me—I was mortified.
Then it was Phong's turn. He sang just like I did. But when he reached the part he forgot, he paused to take a breath.
So he got sent to the corner too.
Both of us were punished.
Suddenly, I really liked the name Lâm Phong.
•
Yến's birthday was on September 25th. I still had to go to English class until six-thirty. Staring at my homework, I felt completely lost—I didn't understand a thing.
"You still have to take English lessons?"
"Yeah."
"But we don't even have English class in school yet."
"Mom's afraid I won't keep up."
"What if you learn English and forget Vietnamese?"
"Then I'll just study Vietnamese again."
Looking back, that was such a silly answer.
"…."
"…."
"You're still taking extra math and Vietnamese classes too?"
"Mm. Three times a week."
Phong made a face I couldn't quite describe. His eyes dimmed for a moment.
"…Where's the marble I gave you?"
"In there."
I pointed to the glass jar where I kept the marbles Phong had left in my care.
"Why'd you put it in there?"
"Well, it's a marble. Where else would I put it?"
"…"
•
After dinner, showered and fresh, I ran to Yến's house. My head was still buzzing with What? Why? How? from English class.
Yến wore a deep pink dress—she looked stunning. I didn't know how to describe it, just that she was incredibly pretty. Phong stood beside her and called out:
"Aren't you gonna get in the picture?"
I scrambled in before the photographer could press the shutter. But I couldn't squeeze into the center, so I ended up behind a tall guy. His shadow completely swallowed me.
Mai Mít suggested a "family photo"—one husband, two wives, and a child. Since it was Yến's birthday, and the four of us were best friends, Yến's parents didn't object.
Phong stood in the middle, arms around his two beautiful young wives, legs crossed, looking utterly smug. As for me—the kid—I had to crouch, only reaching up to their chins.
After making a wish, blowing out the candles, and eating a chaotic mess of food, it was time to open presents. I was too busy scrubbing cake off my face to notice. I only stopped when I was sure all the grease was gone.
Handing Yến the gift, I declared,
"Hope you eat well and grow big!"
Wait—why was everyone laughing? Grown-ups always wished me that on my birthday. Was something wrong?
"This is from both me and Phong."
"A shared gift?"
Yến's smile faded. She pulled her hands back. Why was she staring at Phong like that?
We were just kids—we didn't know what to buy. Phong's mom was always busy, so my mom got the present for us. I wanted to go pick it out, but I had English class. I had no idea what Mom bought. The curiosity was killing me.
"Open it, sweetheart," Yến's mom urged.
I blurted out, "Let me open it for you!"
Yến said nothing.
Inside was a snow-white swan-shaped clock. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
After the party, Phong stuck around, but I left, sulking like a dried-up apple.
"My grandbaby went to a party and came back looking so gloomy?"
Grandma wiped my face, grabbed my toothbrush, and untied my hair to put me to bed.
"Chun doesn't like it! Mom always gives me books for my birthday, but she bought Yến such a pretty swan."
Grandma just patted my head and said nothing. Back then, I didn't understand rich and poor. I just wanted what I liked. If I couldn't have it, I'd go play at a neighbor's house.
But years later, my colorful storybooks from Mom were still intact, while Yến's swan, no matter how much she treasured it, had long been ruined by time.
That night, I cried because I thought Mom was unfair. But the next morning, I forgot all about it.