11 Welcome To Class

The early morning light filtered through the tall windows of Kamon's new classroom, illuminating the rows of neatly arranged desks and chairs. The air buzzed with the sound of students chatting and flipping through their notebooks, punctuated by occasional laughter. Kamon hesitated in the doorway, clutching her bag tightly. Her father's words echoed in her mind: "Be yourself, Kamon. They'll see your heart if you let them." 

She took a deep breath and stepped inside, her presence drawing the attention of several students. Some looked curious, others disinterested, but one gaze stood out - sharp and assessing. Sitting at the center of the room was Patcha, her posture poised, her expression one of barely concealed disdain. 

Kamon's introduction to the class had already been nerve-wracking, but things quickly escalated when, moments before the first bell, she entered what she thought was her assigned room. 

The room was silent, and several students stared at her in confusion. A girl near the back whispered loudly, "Who's that? Is she the new teacher?" 

Before Kamon could correct the misunderstanding, a lanky boy near the front stood up, grinning mischievously. "Good morning, teacher!" he said, bowing deeply. The rest of the class followed suit, stifling laughter as they chorused, "Good morning, teacher!" 

Kamon's cheeks turned crimson. "Oh, no, no! I'm not-" 

At that moment, the actual teacher, a stern-looking man with a booming voice, appeared behind her. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. 

The students erupted into laughter as Kamon stammered out an apology. The teacher sighed, waving her out of the room. "You're in the wrong class. Room 3B is down the hall." 

Mumbling her thanks, Kamon bolted from the room, her embarrassment burning like a flame. 

When Kamon finally arrived in the right classroom, she was introduced by the homeroom teacher, Ms. Anya. 

"This is Kamon. She's just transferred here, so let's make her feel welcome," Ms. Anya said warmly. 

As Kamon scanned the room, her eyes met Patcha's again. The girl's polished appearance - perfectly tied ribbon, immaculate uniform, and a subtle hint of gloss on her lips - made Kamon feel self-conscious. 

Sitting to Patcha's left was Prem, a bespectacled boy with a kind face who offered Kamon a small smile. His desk was crowded with neatly stacked books, and he appeared to be writing furiously in a notebook. 

In the back corner, partially obscured by the shadow of a window frame, sat Thanwa. He was slouched in his seat, his hoodie pulled up despite the school's strict uniform rules. His dark eyes flicked toward Kamon briefly before he returned to doodling in the margins of his notebook. 

Ms. Anya gestured to an empty seat. "Kamon, you can sit next to Prem for now. He'll help you get settled." 

Kamon nodded and made her way to the desk, feeling the weight of Patcha's eyes on her as she passed. 

Later that day, during a break, Kamon and a group of curious classmates gathered near the staffroom. They had heard rumors about Mr. Wittaya, the new art teacher who was rumored to be both eccentric and surprisingly young. 

"Let's just take a peek," one boy suggested, his tone conspiratorial. 

Kamon hesitated but was swept along with the group. They crouched near the door, peering inside. Mr. Wittaya was indeed younger than most of the staff, his sleeves rolled up as he gestured animatedly to another teacher. His passion was evident, and his energy seemed to fill the room. 

Just as the group began to giggle, the door swung open. Mr. Wittaya stood before them, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. 

"Enjoying the show?" he asked, his tone amused rather than angry. 

The students scrambled to their feet, tripping over each other in their haste to apologize. Kamon, caught in the middle, found herself face-to-face with the teacher. 

"Let me guess," he said, his lips quirking into a smile. "You're the new student, right?" 

Kamon nodded, her face aflame. 

"Welcome to the school," he said, stepping aside to let them go. "Next time, just say hi." 

The group scurried away, their laughter echoing down the hall. 

The classroom door swings open abruptly, and a frantic student rushes in, hair disheveled and eyes wide with alarm. She looks around, her breath coming in quick bursts. The classroom is filled with students, some laughing, others watching a video on their phones. The atmosphere shifts as the urgency in the girl's voice captures everyone's attention.

"There's a fight! In the hallway!" Supaporn Thongprasert exclaims, her voice echoing off the walls. 

As students murmur in confusion, Ms. Ivy, a well-respected teacher known for her calm demeanor, stands up from her desk. She brushes her hair back and furrows her brow, ready to take action. 

"Everyone, stay here!" she commands. She strides out of the room, the worried students peering after her. 

"Why should we?" Kanyapak Rattanaporn asks

"Yeah!" Pimnara Chatmongkol and Natcha Wongsawan support her.

"Well if you can't face it, then leave." Patcha Phanit says from the back of the classroom.

The scene is chaotic, with two girls grappling with each other, surrounded by a small crowd of onlookers. Ms. Ivy intervenes, stepping between them with a raised hand. "Stop it! This is not how we handle disagreements!"

But in the heat of the moment, one of the girls swings her leg, catching Ms. Ivy off guard. With a stunned expression, Ms. Ivy stumbles and falls backward, landing hard on the floor. Gasps fill the air as the crowd goes silent.

A student panicking says, "Oh my god! Ms. Ivy!"

A student yells for help, "Someone call for help!"

The first girl is still angry, "Let go of me! She started it!"

The second girl defensive,"I did not! You're such a liar!"

Ms. Ivy winces, struggling to stand, "Girls, please! You need to stop!" 

A third student rushes to help Ms. Ivy "Are you okay, Ms. Ivy? We need to get you up!"

Ms. Ivy says breathing heavily, trying to regain her composure, "I'm fine, just help me up. But you all need to get back. This isn't how we solve our problems!"

A student says to the crowd, "Back up, everyone! Give her some space!"

Ms. Ivy finally stands , looking sternly at the girls, "This behavior is unacceptable. We're going to talk about this right now." 

As the adrenaline begins to fade, a sense of seriousness settles over the group. The students exchange guilty looks, realizing the gravity of the situation they've created.

The principal's office was a small, dimly lit room with a large desk in the center. There are two chairs in front of the desk, a small table against one wall with various documents and papers on it, and a bookshelf along the opposite wall filled with educational books and trophies. 

The principal, a middle-aged lady , Mrs Araya with a stern expression, sits behind the desk while the teacher, a younger woman with a frazzled look, stands next to the student, a mischievous-looking girl about 16 years old, who leans against a corner of the desk.

"Why are you fighting, Boonmee?" The proncipal asked with a firm tone. 

"Sir, you arrived at the wrong timing. She started it, and I'm just fighting back."Boonmee replied smirking.

"That's not what I saw, Boonmee. You both started it." Ms Ivy replied exasperated

"No, sir! She was being mean to me, and I just stood up for myself."Chaidee replied.

"Can you shut your beak?" The principal said skeptically.

"Miss, I'm explaining why I'm right, and besides, beaks talk to each other."Boonmee replied incredulously.

"Boonmee,stop it. That's not helping."

Ms. Ivy said embarrassed.

"I'm just trying to explain myself, sir."Boonmee replied innocently.

"Did you just call me a beak?" The principal asked sternly.

No, Miss, I was just... um... using a metaphor." Boonmee said sheepishly.

"A metaphor? With a parrot example?"Principal asked dryly.

Boonmee said proudly, "yes, Miss! It was just explaining myself."

....

The tension between Kamon and Patcha came to a head during lunch. The cafeteria was a cacophony of clinking trays and chatter as Kamon navigated her way to an empty table. Before she could sit, Patcha and her group approached, their trays laden with food. 

"New girl," Patcha said, her tone saccharine. "You don't mind if we sit here, do you?" 

Kamon hesitated, sensing the underlying challenge in Patcha's words. 

Before she could respond, Prem appeared at her side. "Actually, Kamon's sitting with us," he said, gesturing to a nearby table where a few other students waved. 

Patcha's smile faltered, but she recovered quickly. "Of course," she said, her tone icy. "Enjoy your lunch, Kamon." 

As Kamon sat with Prem and the others, she couldn't help but feel the weight of Patcha's glare from across the room. 

Despite the tension, Kamon found herself relaxing as lunchtime progressed. Prem introduced her to his friends, a group of quirky but friendly students who quickly made her feel at ease. 

"You know," Prem said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "it takes a lot of guts to walk into the wrong classroom on your first day." 

The table erupted into laughter, and even Kamon couldn't help but giggle. "I think I've already set a record for embarrassing moments," she admitted. 

Her humor and willingness to laugh at herself endeared her to the group, and by the end of lunch, she felt a genuine connection forming. 

As the school day came to an end, Kamon lingered in the courtyard, watching the other students head home. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the setting sun casting long shadows across the grounds. 

Thanwa passed by, his hood still up, but this time he nodded at her - a small gesture, but one that made Kamon smile. 

Patcha walked by with her group, her head held high, but there was a flicker of something in her expression that Kamon couldn't quite place. 

Prem caught up to her, his bag slung over one shoulder. "Ready for tomorrow?" he asked. 

Kamon nodded, her confidence growing. "I think so. One day at a time, right?" 

As she walked home, the bustling streets of Bangkok seemed a little less overwhelming, the weight of her first day lightened by the connections she had made. Kamon knew she still had much to learn and many challenges to face, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged. 

The late afternoon sun bathed the school grounds in a soft, golden glow as Kamon stepped out of the interview room, her heart pounding with a mix of relief and excitement. She had done it—despite the nerves, the mix-up with the chair, and the momentary feeling of being out of place, she had somehow managed to charm the interviewers with her honesty. 

Her father waved to her from across the courtyard, a warm, proud smile on his face. Kamon couldn't help but smile back, her earlier worries now feeling like distant echoes. The school may have been a world away from the life she had known, but in this moment, she felt like she could belong here. 

Behind her, a flustered student rushed by, clutching a pile of assignments and muttering about alarm clocks. A nearby teacher raised an eyebrow and quipped, "Who were you waiting to ring, me?" Kamon stifled a laugh, the tension of the day easing into something lighter.

As she walked toward her father, the unfamiliar city around her didn't seem quite as daunting anymore. Bangkok wasn't just a place of challenges - it was also a place of opportunities, lessons, and new beginnings. 

With each step, Kamon realized that this was only the start of her journey, a first day that would lead to many more. She wasn't sure what the future held, but for the first time, she felt ready to face it head-on. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions and orientations. Kamon couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place, but the warmth of the staff and the curiosity of her new classmates slowly began to chip away at her apprehension. 

As she walked through the courtyard after her first day, the setting sun cast a golden glow over the school grounds. Kamon paused, taking it all in - the towering buildings, the bustling students, the hum of the city in the distance. 

It wasn't home, not yet. But as she stood there, she realized that maybe, just maybe, it could be. 

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and headed toward the bus stop, ready to face whatever tomorrow might bring.

The city's lights began to twinkle, and Kamon smiled to herself. This was only the beginning.