Minh had never been particularly good at talking to girls. Sure, he had female classmates back in primary school, but those were the days when everyone was still figuring out what "friendship" even meant. There was no need to think much about it. But everything changed on graduation day.
The ceremony had ended, and as Minh packed his things, a girl from his class—Mai, who always sat in the back row—had walked up to him. She'd looked at him, her face redder than a tomato, and before he could even say "hi," she blurted it out: "I like you."
Minh had frozen, not sure what to say. There were people still filing out of the room, and the last thing he wanted was for this moment to drag on in front of everyone.
He'd smiled awkwardly and said, "Thanks, but… I don't think I feel the same."
Mai's face fell. She nodded silently and hurried away, and Minh never spoke to her again. For days after, he couldn't help but think about the brief moment. He hadn't meant to hurt her. It was just that... he didn't know how to handle situations like that. And he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be thinking about it at all. There were bigger things to focus on—like surviving middle school.
Getting into Westerdam didn't make those thoughts disappear. In fact, it only made them more vivid.
The school was full of girls. Beautiful girls. Not just the "pretty" kind. The cute ones, the mysterious ones, the strong ones. Minh had never seen so many different types of girls all in one place. Back at his old school, there were maybe a couple who stood out, but here, it felt like there was a whole world of them.
He couldn't stop noticing them, and it made him uncomfortable. Were they all waiting for him to talk to them? Or were they just as nervous as he was? Minh didn't know.
In class 6A, there were several girls who caught his eye, but not for the reasons he expected.
First, there was Mai Linh—a tiny girl, always dressed perfectly, with her hair pulled into the neatest little bun. She was cute, yes, but Minh quickly realized that she was also from a very rich family. Her shoes were always new, her backpack stylish, and she always had the latest phone. Even though she spoke softly, there was something about her that made everyone around her listen.
Then there was Minh Anh—tall, strong, and sociable. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind and was always laughing with the boys, making them feel at ease. Minh couldn't quite figure her out. She had the confidence of someone who didn't care what others thought, and it was contagious. She was the kind of girl who made friends with anyone.
And Ngọc Lan, a girl who sat next to him sometimes. She was always the first one to arrive at class, her uniform perfectly pressed, her shoes polished. Minh had heard from the other students that she lived in Long Ban, a rural district far from the city. But despite her humble background, she always had a quiet kindness about her. She wasn't loud, but she was always there, offering a hand when it was needed.
Then there was Quỳnh. She wasn't particularly loud, but she was always mocking others—mainly the boys, calling them out for their "silly crushes" on girls from other schools. Minh wasn't sure why she acted that way, but there was something sarcastic about her humor. Maybe it was her defense mechanism, or maybe she just liked messing with people.
The first week passed with brief interactions, and Minh couldn't help but wonder: Do I actually need to interact with girls?
Sure, there were moments—like when Mai Linh smiled at him in the hallway, or when Ngọc Lan helped him gather his books when they spilled. But each time, Minh couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong, like he was walking a tightrope between wanting to be polite and wanting to stay invisible.
With so many girls around, why did it feel harder than ever to talk to them?
He tried to focus on other things. Chess club, football practice, homework. Anything to keep his mind from drifting back to wondering whether he should be doing something different. Talking to them. Getting to know them.
But the truth was, he didn't know how. Not yet.
For now, he was still stuck on the thought of that old confession—and wondering why he'd felt more comfortable rejecting it than taking a chance.