June 2016
The sky was overcast, casting a chilly dampness over everything. It was the kind of weather that made me want to curl up under a light blanket and stay in bed, but I didn't have that luxury. Today was my first day at a new school, and I had a lot of getting ready to do.
After a quick shower and breakfast, I packed my bags with the essential textbooks for a tenth grader. Since it was the first day, I figured it was best to head out early.
"Uncle, I'm off to school!" I called out.
I wasn't commuting from my village anymore. Even though it was only about a twenty-minute trip, my mother insisted I stay with her brother, my Uncle U Ba Kyaw, now that I was in my final year of high school.
My uncle, who was in the middle of breakfast, took a quick swig of water, cleared his throat, and shouted back, "It's still early! I have to drop the little one off soon anyway. Why don't you just wait and go by motorbike?"
His son, Chit Lwin Maung, was starting third grade, and uncle had to take him. While I could have hitched a ride, I didn't want to be a burden.
"It's okay, Uncle," I replied with a smile, waving goodbye one last time.
The sky was a vast expanse of white clouds, but since they weren't dark and heavy, I didn't think it would rain. I had barely stepped out of the front gate when I ran into a girl.
Unlike me, whose skin was darkened from spending years in the fields, hers was strikingly pale. She wore neat circular patches of thanaka on her cheeks, and her bobbed hair was pinned back with a pink ribbon clip to keep it in place. As I moved to pass her, she hurried on her short legs to keep up.
"Why are you walking so fast? Auntie Tin Tin told me to wait for her nephew so we could go together," she pouted.
"Is that so?"
She only came up to my shoulder, and looking down at her was starting to give me a crick in my neck.
"She said even though the school isn't far, we should walk together since it's the first day."
I used to come to this school all the time for sports competitions. Should I tell her that? I decided to keep it simple and friendly just to keep the conversation going.
"In that case, let's walk together."
Every time I'd visited this school before, I'd been on the back of my teacher U Khin Mya's motorbike. The only other time I'd walked this path was back in fourth grade, because of a certain girl.
The small lane known as "High School Road" felt vaguely familiar as we joined the stream of students in green and white. It was a bit too quiet, so I decided to break the ice.
"What grade are you in?"
"I'm in grade-9. How about you?"
"Then I'm older than you. I'm in tenth."
"Oh, really? But I don't really want to call you 'O-gyi' (Older Brother). What should I do about that?" she teased.
Well then. Far from showing me any respect as a senior, she seemed perfectly content treating me as a peer. I suppose titles are a matter of culture, but in the grand scheme of things, they didn't matter much to me.
"That's fine. Just call me whatever you're comfortable with."
I never knew talking to a girl could be this easy. Without any strange awkwardness, our conversation flowed naturally. I lost track of how many steps we took, but soon the great archway of the Basic Education High School, shaded by sprawling rain trees, came into view.
Even though I had been here many times as a guest, arriving today as an actual student made my heart race with a hint of excitement. We headed toward the left side where the classrooms were located.
"You'll be on the upper floor of this building. I'm on the upper floor of that one over there," she explained, acting like a tour guide.
"Thanks. Should we walk back together after school too?"
"What? Did you already forget the way home?" she shot back.
Good grief, this girl... what is with her tone?
"Our houses are right next to each other, you know," she added with a lifeless smile before turning her back on me.
Just as she was about to head up the stairs, I realized I hadn't even asked her name.
"Phue Ngone Thit Lwin! Why are you heading toward the tenth-grade building?" another girl shouted out to her. Phue Ngone just gave a mischievous grin.
"And who was that 'O-gyi' just now?" her friend teased.
"Let's get upstairs first, I'll tell you later," Phue Ngone replied.
The two of them hurried up the stairs of a different building. I stood there, ascending my own stairs while dwelling on that name—it felt so familiar.
I walked into the Grade 10(A) classroom. I didn't know any of the teachers yet, and since it would be embarrassing if I accidentally nodded off in class, I headed straight for the back. There was a bag on one of the back desks, but the seat next to it was empty.
"Is this seat taken?" I asked the boy sitting nearby.
"No," he replied. He must have been the owner of the bag because he moved it aside to let me sit.
"I haven't seen you around. Which class were you in last year?" he asked. It seemed people here were quite friendly.
"I just transferred here this year."
"Oh, I see."
I nodded.
"My name is Nyein Min Thaik. If there's anything you're unsure about, feel free to ask."
"I'm Atar Koo."
I've never been a fan of introducing myself. My name is often confused with "Thar Koo," and it always felt a bit too "country" to me. I'd even considered changing it at one point.
"That's a beautiful name," he complimented. I was genuinely grateful for that.
The teacher walked in, and we stood to greet her. My body was in the classroom, but my mind was occupied with a deep investigation into the name Phue Ngone Thit Lwin.
By the time school let out that evening, I had my answer. I remembered that Phue Ngone Thit Lwin was the little girl I had walked home back when I was in fourth grade. Eager to see her, I went to wait at the base of her building.
She was the very last person to leave her classroom.
"You took forever."
"Were you really waiting for me?" she asked, surprised.
"Of course."
It was probably for the best that she came out last. I wouldn't have to struggle to keep her attention.
"Is your name Phue Ngone Thit Lwin?"
"Duh. I'm pretty famous, so you probably found out even if I didn't tell you, right?"
Unbelievable. This girl's sass did not match her cute face at all. I couldn't help but laugh, which earned me a sharp glare. Realizing I might have overstepped, I quickly cleared my throat.
"I'm not mocking you. By the way... don't you remember me?"
The road home was mostly clear, save for a few bicycles. I had so much to say that I found myself wishing the walk wouldn't end so soon.
"We just met today. What is there to remember?"
"We met when we were kids."
"You must have me confused with someone else."
But she even told me she would be waiting for me back then.
"I didn't even catch your name," she said.
"Atar Koo."
"Huh?"
"That's my name."
"Oh... it sounds very... Burmese."
I wonder if she actually meant it sounds 'country'.
"I used to come to your school every time there was a sports meet," I pressed.
"I don't recall," she answered, shaking her head honestly.
Forget it. It wasn't that important anyway. How could a brain remember every little detail?
The school was so close to home that we arrived after only a couple of turns.
"I'm going in now," she said.
It didn't really matter if Phue Ngone Thit Lwin remembered me or not. In her own way, she had kept her word about waiting for me.