13 The Chaos of Clean-Up and School 

The school bell rang with the finality of a guillotine's blade, signaling the end of yet another Physical Education class. As the PE students shuffled out of the gym, each of them dragging their feet as if they'd been marinated in exhaustion, the task of cleaning up the chaos they had left behind began. Sweat trickled down their faces, their gym clothes clinging to their bodies like a second skin, damp and uncomfortable.

Kamon and Supaporn stood at the back of the gym, both reluctant participants in the post-class tidying session. Kamon, with her flyaways hair and face still flushed from exertion, grumbled as she tossed stray basketballs into the storage bin. Her thoughts were as cluttered as the gym floor, with each bounce of the ball reminding her of the epic disaster that had unfolded earlier.

"You think they'll ever forgive us?" Supaporn asked, her voice tinged with a mix of regret and the faintest hint of guilt. She flicked a towel over her shoulder, eyes darting to the door as if the answer to her question could be found in the hallway.

Kamon shrugged, her expression a blend of uncertainty and indifference. "Does it matter? We'll survive." Her words hung in the air like smoke, dissipating too quickly to hold any weight. The two had a long history of avoiding drama, yet somehow, they had found themselves at the center of it.

Just a few hours ago, during gym class, they had unwittingly ruined the makeup of the most glamorous girl in school, Pim. Her face, once an Instagram-worthy masterpiece of contouring and highlighter, now resembled a Picasso painting that had been left out in the rain. The result of an unfortunate volleyball incident, where the ball—flung with the precision of a cannonball—had collided directly with her face. 

Now, Kamon and Supaporn were standing at the precipice of an unavoidable confrontation with Pim and her three loyal sidekicks: Kanya, Nat, and the ever-sarcastic Pim herself. The girls had been avoiding them all day, but now it was inevitable. They would have to face the wrath of the well-manicured, social media-obsessed quartet.

"I just don't get it," Supaporn said with a sigh. "It's not like we meant to..."

"You didn't mean to ruin her face?" Kamon interrupted, giving her an exaggerated look. "Please, you should've seen the way that ball was aimed. If looks could kill, Pim would be running for cover."

Supaporn narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could retort, the door creaked open. Pim, with her immaculate hair and overdone makeup, stepped into the gym. Behind her were her three companions: Kanya, the silent storm who always looked like she could snap at any moment; Nat, the one who wore too much eyeliner for someone who never said a word; and of course, Pim, who was always one step away from a meltdown.

"Nice shirt," Kanya said to Kamon, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She took in her PE uniform, which now looked like it had been through a battle of epic proportions. "Did you spill something, or are you just trying to start a new trend?"

Kamon smirked. "It's called 'post-PE chic.' You wouldn't understand."

Pim crossed her arms and shot them a glare so cold it could freeze the sweat off their bodies. "You think this is funny?" Her voice was a sharp as a knife's edge, and Kamon could feel the weight of her anger pressing down on her. "You've ruined my face! My entire look! Do you know how hard it is to get the perfect Instagram filter? And now look at me!"

Supaporn stepped forward, ready to apologize for the incident, but Kamon beat her to the punch. "Look, she didn't aim for your face. She aimed for the ball but your face was just in the middle of the ball and the post. And trust me, I wasn't planning on a beauty collision."

"Too bad," Pim snapped, her hands on her hips. "Because now I'm going to make you pay. You're going to be on the receiving end of some serious karma."

"Pim, you're overreacting," Kanya muttered, rolling her eyes. "It's just makeup. Let's not start World War III over it."

"But it's not just makeup," Pim growled, giving Kanya a death glare. "It's about respect. And they disrespected me."

Before the argument could escalate further, Supaporn let out a little chuckle, her laughter bubbling up like a well of relief. "I guess it's like that saying - 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.'"

The tension in the room momentarily shattered, and Kamon, sensing an opportunity to defuse the situation, picked up the metaphor. "Exactly. So why don't we all just... sit down and have some juice? If we can't fix your face, maybe we can fix our moods."

The girls exchanged wary glances, and surprisingly, Pim let out a begrudging laugh. "Fine. But this doesn't mean you're off the hook."

And so, they all headed to the school cafeteria, where the air was thick with the smells of fried food and chatter. The cafeteria was a hive of activity, students milling about like bees, buzzing with excitement and speculation about the day's lunch. Kan, the social media addict, was in her usual corner, phone in hand, filming TikToks with her friends. Ajarn Thanapat, the young and ever-trendy English teacher, was leaning against the wall nearby, watching her antics with amusement.

"If you're gonna make TikToks in my class, at least let me join," he called out to her, earning a startled laugh from Kan. The students around them snickered, and without missing a beat, Ajarn Thanapat launched into a cringy dance move that made everyone groan.

"I regret everything," Kan muttered, holding up her phone to capture the moment. "This is going viral."

"Prince Pat," one of the students whispered, nudging another. "That's what they're calling him now."

The video would, of course, go viral, and soon enough, Ajarn Thanapat would find himself trending on social media. He didn't mind, though. If anything, it gave him a level of popularity that surpassed his wildest dreams. He was the 'Prince Pat' now, and the students loved him for it. It was a strange, humorous turn of events - one that no one could've predicted.

Back in the cafeteria, the chatter about lunch was already in full swing. "I heard they're serving fried chicken today," one student said, his eyes wide with excitement. "It's going to be so good."

"I heard they're also doing sushi rolls," another student chimed in, making the first groan in dismay. "Fried chicken and sushi? What a combo."

"Not as weird as that teacher dancing on TikTok," someone else remarked, and the table erupted in laughter.

As the lunch bell rang, students rushed to grab their trays and get in line, their conversations drifting between food and the latest school gossip. Meanwhile, Kamon and Supaporn, having narrowly escaped Pim's wrath, sat at a corner table, sipping their juice and trying to pretend nothing had happened.

"I can't believe we survived that," Supaporn said, raising her glass.

"Survived?" Kamon replied, grinning. "We made it out like heroes."

"We're not heroes," Supaporn said, shaking her head with a laugh. "But we'll definitely get through the rest of the day without any more makeup disasters."

"Agreed," Kamon said, leaning back in her seat. "Now, let's just hope no one's planning to TikTok this moment."

Across the cafeteria, Kan's voice rang out, "Guys, you have to see this! Prince Pat's on TikTok again!"

And thus, the day continued, a blend of chaos and laughter, where even the most dramatic moments could be washed away by something as simple as juice, TikTok dances, and the promise of fried chicken.

In a school like this, where mischief and laughter go hand in hand, no day was ever truly predictable. One moment, you're dodging an angry girl whose makeup you ruined, and the next, you're laughing over juice with your newfound 'enemy.' It was a place where every student, from the popular TikTokers to the reluctant PE class participants, found their place in the chaotic harmony of school life.

And in this strange little world, Kamon and Supaporn learned that, sometimes, the best way to face chaos wasn't with seriousness, but with humor—and maybe, just maybe, a dash of TikTok-worthy dancing. 

The lunch bell rang with a sense of finality, as though the entire school had just been given a signal to release pent-up energy. The cafeteria doors swung open, and students poured in like a flood of hungry ants, each one eager to secure a spot in line. The smell of fried food, sizzling meats, and freshly cooked rice wafted through the air, mingling with the noise of excited chatter.

In one corner of the cafeteria, Kamon and her friends, Supaporn and Nat, stood at the back of the line, staring in disbelief. The line was moving at a pace that could only be described as glacial. For every few steps forward, it felt like a millennium had passed. 

"This is unbelievable," Kamon muttered under her breath, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She was already running low on patience, the ticking clock in her mind growing louder with each passing second. "How is it possible for a school cafeteria line to be this slow? We're literally in a warzone right now."

Supaporn, her eyes scanning the scene ahead of them, offered a sympathetic sigh. "I don't know, but they're serving chicken nuggets today. It's the only reason anyone's even here, and yet... this is taking forever."

Kamon's foot tapped against the floor, each step she took in frustration was a small echo of her growing anger. She had been looking forward to this moment all morning. Chicken nuggets, fries, and the usual cafeteria delicacies - nothing could ruin this. Except, of course, the excruciatingly slow line. 

"This is an insult to the concept of food," Kamon grumbled, her voice rising a bit too much for the setting. "How is it that we're waiting in line for 'delicacies' and yet we're treated like cattle at a slaughterhouse?"

"You could always go to the back and see if it moves faster," Nat said sarcastically, her face flat with boredom. "At least you'd be farther away from all these 'delicious' smells."

The remark didn't land well with Kamon. She turned to look at Nat with a fire in her eyes. "Don't tempt me."

Before anyone could comment further, the line moved again, a slow, reluctant crawl forward. Kamon's irritation boiled over as she turned back to the counter, watching the cafeteria workers move with an inefficiency that only seemed to add fuel to his frustration. The day had started so well - yet now, even her stomach seemed to mock him, growling loudly, begging for sustenance.

It was in that moment of desperation that Kamon's rage reached its boiling point. "That's it! I'm done!" she yelled, turning to her friends. Without thinking, she grabbed the edge of the nearby table, ready to flip it over in a fit of pure, unadulterated frustration.

But as her hands gripped the edges and she pulled with all her might, Kamon realized, much to her horror, that the table wasn't going anywhere. It was as if the table had conspired against him, sitting stubbornly in its place like an immovable rock. Her muscles strained, her face red with the effort, but the table—cemented firmly to the floor—remained as immovable as a mountain.

"You've got to be kidding me," Kamon muttered through gritted teeth, stepping back. "Why does the universe hate me?"

Supaporn, who had been watching the scene unfold with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, burst out laughing. "You can't flip a table that's anchored in cement, Kamon. What did you think, it's going to be like one of those movie scenes where the hero throws everything in a rage?"

"I thought it would 'feel' good," Kamon retorted, her voice dripping with frustration.

"I thought it would make an impact," Nat added dryly, crossing her arms. "But instead, it looks like you're having a battle with... furniture."

"Shut up," Kamon muttered, turning away from the immovable table with all the grace of a frustrated lion. "This is stupid. I'm just... I'm too hungry for this."

Supaporn placed a hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was as much to calm herself as it was to calm Kamon. "Deep breaths, Kamon. Just think about the food. Focus on the food."

Kamon inhaled deeply, the air filling her lungs with a sense of deep calm, but even that did little to quell the internal chaos brewing within her. She eyed the slow-moving line one last time before giving a final, resigned sigh. "It's like we're in a bad episode of a reality show, but the challenge is waiting for food."