When Broken Glass Floats_ Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge - Chanrithy Him [125]
Shocked, I’m speechless. How can she be proud of cheating, having copied my answers to get more points! But soon I’m even more appalled. Two girls sitting behind me, as well as a few boys, go to Lok Kruu after Sida showed them her test.
Lok Kruu’s face reddens as they come up to him. I watch, taking deep breaths. He tells them to go back to their seats, then darts out of the classroom. When he returns, he says nothing, sitting at his desk, composed.
Loud footsteps stride down the hall. Soon the principal, who is in his early forties, appears. I want to get up and tell him what has transpired. I want to point to Sida and those who copied the answers from my test.
As soon as the principal steps into the classroom, he demands, “Who instigated the cheating? Who did it first?” his hand on his hip.
I stand up to explain. “I—”
“You!” The principal attacks me, his index finger stabs at me repeatedly. “Why did you instigate the cheating? What kind of a student, a girl, are you? Cheat….”
Shocked, I peer at him, rooted to the floor. My face becomes hot.
Ever since I was a little girl I was taught to respect my elders, but how can I respect this man? I was oppressed by the Khmer Rouge, who took away my freedom, but no one has the right to treat me this way now! I glare back at him as he continues to fume.
My hand on my hip, mirroring the principal’s stance, I tell him, “If you don’t know the truth, don’t accuse me of inciting the cheating. If you’re stupid, don’t act like you know.” Words tumble out of my mouth, words that I could never imagine using when addressing an adult. My hand is raised, my index finger pointing back at him. “You are an adult, act like one. If not, no one will respect you, even though you’re the principal.”
The principal barks, pointing, calling me an insolent girl. Composed, I tell him to behave and to listen to himself, speaking like an adult telling a hysterical child to calm down. Lok Kruu scurries over to the principal, then firmly says, “That student didn’t instigate the cheating.”
The principal recoils, his eyes searching Lok Kruu’s, as if he is trying to digest what Lok Kruu has just said. Suddenly I feel as if I’m in a corridor of silence. The principal leaves as quickly as he entered.
On the wall of the post office I read news and advertisements about missing families. Perhaps some long-lost relatives might be looking for us. I then scan the lists of names of people who have mail from relatives. Soon I see my own name.
I open the letter, and it says: “Dear Granddaughter Thy, Grandpa has arrived in Khao I Dang and is staying with your friend Sonith’s father at the temple…. Your aunts, Chin and Leng, and their families are still in Phnom Penh. Later they will also come to Khao I Dang…. As for your mother’s side of the family, your aunts and uncles and their families are also living in Phnom Penh….”
I can’t believe that Grandpa has found me after all this time since he, Aunt Chin, Aunt Leng, and their families left us at the village before Korkpongro. It was about a year ago today. Now we are reunited through a letter.
A few weeks later, I receive another letter from Khao I Dang. Accompanying it is a picture of Aunt Chin and her children, and Aunt Leng with her second husband as well as Cousin Navy, who is the only survivor in her family of seven. Everyone was brought safely into Khao I Dang. I’m so grateful. Only years later can we laugh together about the perils of their journey. Knowing how risky it was to come to Khao I Dang, they hid their jewels of gold and gems in their bottoms. But when they grew exhausted from the long, tiring