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Author: Tạ Duy Anh / Translator: Alph16

 My sister's name was Kiều Phương, but I often called her Cat because her face was always smeared with dirt by herself. She happily accepted the name I gave her and even used it to address her friends. Cat was very fond of rummaging through objects with an unpleasant interest.

-Hey, can't you even leave them alone?

It boasted:

-I'm Cat! It's okay as long as I don't mess them up...

 One day, I caught her kneading something black, scared-looking, and sometimes smeared it on her wrists. Oh my gosh, so it's making painting colors. No wonder the bottoms of the pots and pans were shaved white. I decided to spy on my sister in secret. Perhaps after feeling satisfied, she pulled out four small bottles from her pocket: The red one, the yellow one, and the green one,... are all homemade. She kept an eye on them, then stuffed them all back into her pocket after putting the black color into an empty bottle. Then, she happily ran to do the things my parents assigned, sang while doing it, and seemed very happy.

 But all the secrets of Cat were finally revealed. That day, uncle Up Lee - a painter, a close friend of my father - brought Quỳnh to play. When she met a female friend, she was overjoyed. The two dragged each other to the garden. Here, Cat showed all the hidden paintings she drew to Quỳnh. I only heard little Quỳnh scream softly sometimes. After a while, Quỳnh ran in and whispered something to uncle Up Lee, making him ask my father's permission to follow Quỳnh to the garden. At that time, I was so interested in the kite that I didn't know what was happening. Only did I see that when coming back from the garden, uncle Up Lee's face was very bright:

-You are so fortunate. Have you known your daughter is a genius at art?

 He spread six paintings drawn by Cat in front of my dad. It was my father's turn to be dumbfounded like he couldn't believe his eyes.

-Are these my daughter's drawings? Could it be it, that rummage Cat!?

And he couldn't help but pick up Cat:

-Oh, you gave me such a big surprise.

 As soon as my mother came back home, she heard and witnessed everything that happened, and couldn't hold her emotion. According to uncle Up Lee, the paintings of Cats are unique and can be framed and hung in any gallery. My parents strongly believed in uncle Up Lee's assessment. He also promised to help my sister so that she could develop her talents.

 From that day, although everything was the same in our house, I always felt that I was incompetent and pushed out. When I sat at the desk, I just wanted to cry.

 I did not find any talent in myself. And I didn't understand why I couldn't be as close to Cat as I used to be. All it took was a small mistake in her to make me growl.

 I decided to do something I still despised: peeking at Cat's paintings. It seemed that everything in our house was brought into her paintings. Although she painted with large strokes, even the bowl of pork bran, chipped in one piece, became funny. The striped cat in the painting was more significant than the tiger, but the face was so lovable. It felt like it knew everything we did and ignored it because it didn't want to argue with children.

 Folding the paintings of Cat, I let out a sigh...

 My parents excitedly shopped for my sister everything she needed for her drawing work. Uncle Up Lee gave his "colleague" a box of genuine foreign colors. Only Cat's face remained unchanged. Always dirty, when I yelled at her, it became doleful, and she protruded her mouth. I used to see it very funny with that face. But that was before. Then I felt like it pissed me off...

 Then the whole family - except me - was as happy as Tet when Aroma, through the introduction of uncle Up Lee, was invited to participate in the international drawing competition camp. The contestants had to draw a picture on a topic of their choices right before the judges. Before taking the challenge, she seemed to be constantly observing me, making me very uncomfortable. She learned by heart the teaching of uncle Up Lee: "Just draw whatever is most familiar to you".

 A week later, my sister returned in the arms of both my father and mother: Her painting was awarded first prize. She rashly lunged at my neck, but I made an excuse that I was in the middle of doing something and pushed it away. However, it still managed to whisper in my ear: "I want you to go to receive the award with me."

 In the large, light-filled room, the contestants' paintings were hung on all four walls. My father and mother pulled me through the crowd to see Pulchra Aroma's painting framed and glassed. In the picture, a little boy was sitting and looking out the window, where the sky was blue. The boy's face seemed to radiate a peculiar light. Exuding from his eyes was not only his contemplative but also very dreamy sitting posture. My mother nervously whispered in my ear:

-Do you recognize yourself?

 I was startled. I didn't understand why I had to hold onto my mother's hand. First surprise, then pride, then shame. In my sister's eyes, was I that perfect? I looked hypnotized at the words in the painting: "My brother". But in my eyes, there was something not right...

-Did you recognize yourself? - Mom was still nervous.

 I didn't answer my mother because I wanted to cry so much. If I could tell my mother, I would say: "It's not me. This is my sister's soul and kindness".