A Fateful Problem
After the final-year trip, everything went back to normal in no time.
So quickly that Lam An felt as if those two happy days had never happened.
The blackboard was full of formulas again.
Stacks of practice tests piled up in the corner of the desk.
Every afternoon, their teacher’s voice rang out steadily, reminding the class to work.
Only one thing had changed.
The high school entrance exam was right around the corner.
The whole class started talking more about which schools they wanted to attend.
Some wanted to get into a specialized high school.
Some chose a school close to home.
Some had known what they wanted for a long time.
Others were still undecided.
An was in the last group.
But she didn’t tell anyone.
That afternoon, their teacher handed each student a math test.
“Take forty-five minutes to finish this. Treat it like the real exam.”
The whole class fell silent.
An lowered her head.
The test wasn’t too hard.
Question one.
Question two.
Question three.
The last one was a probability problem.
She worked through almost all of it quickly.
Only the last question remained.
An read it again.
If one of the possibilities was chosen...
If event A occurred...
If...
Suddenly, her pen stopped moving.
For some reason, the words on the page made her think about her own life.
If she stayed.
If she left.
If she chose this school.
If she chose another.
Every choice seemed like a fork in the road.
But there was no problem that could tell her which answer was right.
“How far have you gotten?”
Khang’s voice came from behind her.
An jumped.
“I’m working on it.”
“Is the last question hard?”
“No.”
“Then why are you staring at it like it’s your enemy?”
An smiled faintly.
“Because there are too many possibilities.”
Khang glanced at his test.
“It’s probability.”
“Yeah.”
“If you don’t know, guess.”
An turned around.
“You’re going to guess on the real exam, too?”
“No.”
“Then why are you telling me to guess?”
“Because sometimes not choosing is a kind of choice, too.”
An fell silent.
Khang didn’t seem to realize that his words had touched something deep inside her.
He bent back over his test and kept working.
An turned forward again.
The pen in her hand remained still.
That night, An sat at her desk for a long time.
Her entrance exam study guide lay on the desk.
Beside it was a note her mother had left.
“Let’s talk about changing schools this weekend.”
An stared at the words.
She had known about this for a long time.
Her family was about to move somewhere else because of her father’s job.
At first, An thought she’d tell her friends right away.
But then one day passed after another, and she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
She was afraid of Mai Chi’s expression.
Afraid of Khang’s questions.
Most of all, she was afraid of the moment when everyone started talking about her in the past tense.
“An used to be in our class, too.”
Just thinking about it made her throat tighten.
Her phone lit up.
A message from Khang.
“Math test tomorrow.”
An replied:
“I know.”
The next message arrived right away.
“Don’t stay up late.”
An looked at the screen.
She typed, then deleted it.
In the end, she only sent:
“You, too.”
A little later:
“Yeah.”
The conversation ended.
An set her phone down.
Outside the window, the wind stirred the trees.
She suddenly remembered the flame tree in front of Building C.
The ribbons.
The words she had written.
A place I can never forget.
An had once thought it was only a wish.
Now it felt more like a reminder.
The next day, An arrived at school early.
She sat alone in the classroom.
Sunlight poured through the window, stretching into rectangles across the tiled floor.
An took a piece of paper out of her bag.
On it were the names of two schools.
One where she lived now.
One where her family was about to move.
She stared at them for a long time.
Then she picked up her pen and wrote:
Stay.
Below it:
Leave.
The two lines sat side by side.
Neither was circled.
“What are you working on?”
An jumped.
Khang was standing in the doorway.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing again.”
He came in and pulled out the chair behind her.
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
An folded the paper.
“It really is nothing.”
Khang said nothing.
After a while, he asked,
“Is something going on?”
An looked out the window.
“No.”
“An.”
“Yeah?”
“You know you’re not very good at lying.”
An laughed.
“You don’t know me that well, either.”
“Yeah.”
Khang answered softly.
“But I’m trying to.”
An didn’t know how to respond.
She lowered her head.
Her hand unconsciously gripped the edge of the paper.
“Khang.”
“Yeah?”
“If one day you had to choose between what you wanted and what you didn’t want, but what was best for your family...”
She stopped.
“What would you choose?”
Khang didn’t answer right away.
He looked out across the schoolyard.
A flame-tree leaf drifted down onto the steps.
“I don’t know.”
An was a little surprised.
“I thought you always had an answer.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“I just like to pretend I do.”
An smiled, too.
But her eyes stung a little.
Khang turned toward her.
“What about you?”
An was silent.
For a long time.
Finally, she said:
“I don’t know, either.”
That afternoon, their teacher handed back the tests.
An had the highest score in the class.
Mai Chi was so excited she nearly wanted to lift An’s whole desk.
“See? Our history whiz is still a straight-A student!”
An smiled.
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? You should be proud!”
Khang sat behind her, looking at the score on An’s test.
“You did great.”
An turned around.
“Thanks.”
“But you got the last question wrong.”
An looked down.
The probability question.
She’d made a mistake in the final step.
“Yeah.”
Khang propped his chin on his hand.
“You know, you can redo this problem.”
“I know.”
“Then fix it.”
An looked at the test.
Then at him.
“If only everything could be fixed as easily as a math problem.”
Khang didn’t smile.
He understood that she wasn’t talking about the test.
“Maybe you can’t fix it.”
An looked up.
“But you can start over.”
Outside the window, the late-afternoon sun touched the flame-tree canopy.
An looked at him.
For some reason, in that moment, she wanted to tell him everything.
That she was about to move away.
That after the exam, they might not go to school together anymore.
That the extra study sessions, the bus rides, the photographs, the afternoons beneath the flame tree... would all become memories.
But in the end, all she said was:
“Khang.”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever take a picture of me...”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t take it when I’m crying.”
Khang froze.
An immediately smiled.
“I’m kidding.”
But this time, he didn’t smile back.
He just looked at her for a long time.
“Okay.”
Then he added:
“But if you’re sad, don’t hide away by yourself.”
An didn’t answer.
She lowered her eyes to the test.
A red mark still remained beside the last question.
A problem could be corrected.
An answer could be tried again.
But some choices, once you’ve crossed that line, leave you with nothing but the memories of them.
An didn’t know which path she would choose.
She only knew that time was passing quickly.
And the entrance exam was getting closer.
Just like a goodbye she still didn’t have the courage to say.