The first day of senior year began with rain.
Mai stood beneath the school gate's awning, clutching her bag to her chest as she watched trails of water stretch across the school courtyard. She had forgotten to bring an umbrella. It wasn't the first time, but this time she couldn't dash across the courtyard like she had back in sophomore year. Her freshly washed school uniform was still crisp, and her mother had reminded her over and over that, this year, she had to maintain the image of a senior.
“Are you planning to stand here until school lets out?”
The voice came from right beside her. Mai turned and found Khanh holding the blue umbrella. His hair was slightly tousled by the wind, and he still had a math notebook with worn corners tucked under one arm. He was still the same, hardly any different from the summer before, except that he was a little taller—and his smile had somehow made Mai forget what she was about to say.
“No. I’m just… waiting for the rain to stop.”
Khanh looked at the gray sky, then back at her.
“The forecast says it’ll rain all morning today.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He tilted the umbrella toward her. “Want to walk together?”
Mai looked at the space beneath the umbrella. It was just big enough for two people, but Khanh’s shoulder was already nearly at the edge. If she stepped under it, their arms would definitely brush.
“Aren’t you afraid of getting wet?”
“I am.”
“Then why did you ask me to come?”
Khanh shrugged, his expression completely unbothered.
“Because walking alone is boring.”
Mai knew it was a perfectly ordinary answer. So ordinary that she had no reason for her heart to beat any faster. And yet, when she stepped down from the stairs and stood beside Khanh beneath the blue umbrella, she still had to lower her head so he wouldn’t see her smile.
The two of them crossed the school courtyard. The smell of wet earth mingled with the scent of leaves, while rain tapped against the umbrella. Khanh gave Mai the dry side, and the left shoulder of his shirt gradually darkened.
“The umbrella’s tilted,” Mai said.
“Where?”
“Your side is completely soaked.”
“It’s fine. I’m tough.”
“Even if you’re tough, you’ll still have to miss school if you catch a cold.”
“Are you worried about me?”
Khanh asked it lightly, but the question made Mai stop short. She pretended to adjust her bag strap.
“I’m only worried about the group presentation. If you miss school, who’s going to do your part?”
“Oh.” Khanh drew out the word, as if he had just figured something out. “So it’s only because of the presentation.”
Mai was about to argue when the bell rang for class. They both hurried up the stairs. Outside the classroom, Khanh folded the umbrella, and rainwater fell onto the floor in tiny drops. He pulled a packet of tissues from the outer pocket of his bag and handed it to Mai.
“Dry your hair. You look like a cat someone just dumped water on.”
“You’re the one who looks like a cat!”
Mai snatched the tissues, and Khanh burst out laughing. Just then, the homeroom teacher walked in and told everyone to settle into their seats and take the classroom duty list. Mai returned to her desk, but her eyes kept drifting toward the window.
The blue umbrella was propped beside the teacher’s desk. Rainwater was still dripping from it.
During the beginning-of-year class meeting, the homeroom teacher announced that the class would be holding a camping trip at the end of the month. Each group had to prepare its own tent, food, and performance. The whole class immediately grew noisy. Mai was assigned to the decorating group with Khanh.
“Talk about fate,” Khanh said as he looked at the list.
“What fate?”
“We walked under the same umbrella this morning, and now we’re in the same group this afternoon. Clearly, the universe wants us to work hard.”
Mai shot him a glare, but the corners of her lips curved up despite herself.
That afternoon, when school let out, the rain had stopped. Khanh was standing at the school gate, the blue umbrella still in his hand.
“Mai.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember to bring an umbrella tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“But if you forget…” Khanh held the umbrella out to her. “Just use this one.”
Mai stared at him in surprise.
“What will you use?”
“I can run.”
“Are you stupid? It’s raining.”
“Then remember to bring it back tomorrow.”
Khanh turned away before Mai could ask why he didn’t just keep it. She stood beneath the row of trees, hugging the blue umbrella to her chest. A small piece of paper had been taped to the handle with clear tape.
Khanh’s handwriting was messy, with only one short line:
“Don’t get wet, you klutz.”
Mai read those words over and over all the way home. She didn’t know that some feelings began so quietly, like the first rain of the season—all it took was an umbrella tilted toward you to make all the years that followed feel different.