Summer of the first year passed faster than I thought. Just the other day I was still worried about this unfamiliar high school, about new classes and new friends, and now I'm already stepping into the second year. Only two more years and I'll leave this place… That thought made me feel both relieved and vaguely regretful.
I returned to school after nearly three months of summer vacation, feeling how quickly time had flown by. Not long ago I had just entered high school, and now there were only two years left before graduation.The schoolyard in early autumn carried an indescribable atmosphere. No longer the fiery scent of red flamboyant flowers like in the scorching May, nor exactly the smell of fresh-cut grass still wet with dew. What I smelled was a strange mixture: motorbike smoke drifting in from the gate, the golden but sultry sunlight, mingled with the sweat of hundreds of students crowded in the yard. On the rows of plastic chairs, whispers, complaints, and bursts of laughter intertwined, creating that distinctive noise unique to school opening ceremonies.
The loudspeaker echoed, starting with the familiar congratulatory words from the principal. The content was nothing new—just plans and directions for the new school year. I sat there, chin resting on hand, words going in one ear and out the other. My gaze wandered across the schoolyard: a few people slumped down, fanning constantly, others mumbling song lyrics, some sneaking glances at their phones. No one seemed very enthusiastic, myself included. Nobody looked eager or expectant; everyone was simply waiting for it to end.
When the speech ended, it was time for the award ceremony for students with outstanding achievements over the summer. The discipline teacher read out names one by one. Second prize in provincial math, first prize in swimming, consolation prize in arts… Applause rang out, though most of it was perfunctory. I nodded absentmindedly, eyes on the stage but not truly paying attention.
And then a name was called, snapping me wide awake.
"Malid Trana – Second Prize in the provincial art competition."
That name jolted me like lightning. For a moment, my heart beat faster than usual. Malid. That name was unmistakable. I hurriedly pulled my glasses from my pocket, putting them on to see clearly.On stage, she stepped out gracefully. The same slender figure, the same gentle smile that had once thrown my heart into chaos the first time we met. The autumn morning light shone down, reflecting off her hair, making her seem to radiate brighter than anyone else standing there.
Malid walked toward the center of the stage, the same slender frame, the same smile that made my heartbeat go haywire—it was impossible to mistake. A year ago, she had already won third place, and this year she shone even brighter, taking second. I couldn't help but be surprised; perhaps it was true that art favored her. My heart raced, though I didn't want to admit it. From the near-back rows, I craned my neck to catch a glimpse past the heads in front. ...In that moment, Malid received the certificate directly from the principal, bowed, and smiled before the whole school… Unconsciously, I clenched my hands tightly.
I had thought there would be no remarkable highlight to expect from the school today, no reason to care about this ceremony. But perhaps, it was Malid who turned what would have been a dull event into an unforgettable moment for me.
As Malid greeted the teachers and everyone, then stepped off the stage, I kept following her until her figure disappeared from sight, realizing that today's ceremony wasn't as boring as last year's after all.The applause faded, the event continued, but I no longer cared.
And so the opening day ended, with the loudspeaker announcing students could leave. My mind still couldn't shake away the thoughts from that ceremony. I removed my glasses, slipping them back into my pocket. On my way out of the schoolyard, a strange premonition welled up inside me—Perhaps this school year, I won't be able to live in quiet obscurity any longer.