17 Festival Day Fun  

The air hummed with excitement as the school festival officially kicked off. Stalls lined the courtyard, their vibrant decorations fluttering in the breeze, while the scent of grilled meat, fried snacks, and sweet desserts wafted through the air. Students, teachers, and visitors bustled about, some eagerly rushing to game booths, others carefully balancing trays of festival treats. 

Kamon stood at the heart of the commotion, absorbing the festive energy. Her nerves were a tangled mess—part anticipation, part terror. She had signed up for a cooking competition, of all things. 

Prem, standing beside her, nudged her with his elbow. "You look like you're reconsidering all your life choices." 

Kamon exhaled sharply. "I am." 

"Too late for that now," Thanwa quipped, handing her a bottled drink. "You've already embarrassed yourself in practice. Might as well finish the job in style." 

"Wow, thanks," Kamon deadpanned, rolling her eyes. 

Before they could continue their banter, the morning assembly was called, and the entire school gathered around the stage. 

The English teacher, Mr. Phairoj, took the microphone, his posture exuding confidence as he began his speech. 

"Good morning, students! Today is a very 'specious' day!" 

Silence. 

A ripple of confused murmurs spread through the crowd. Kamon exchanged a glance with Prem, who was visibly struggling to contain his laughter. 

"Did he mean 'special'?" Thanwa whispered. 

Mr. Phairoj continued, unaware of the collective amusement. "I want to express my gratitude to all the students who have participated in this year's event. Your enthusiasm is truly… 'contaminating'!" 

This time, the crowd erupted. 

Kamon clamped a hand over her mouth as students dissolved into laughter. 

Chantana leaned toward her. "Does he mean 'contagious'?" 

"Yes!" Kamon whispered between giggles. 

Oblivious, Mr. Phairoj smiled proudly. "Now, enjoy the festival, and remember—'perspiration' is the key to success!" 

The laughter doubled. 

Supaporn wiped a tear from her eye. "I think he meant 'perseverance'." 

As the students dispersed, Prem shook his head, grinning. "That man teaches English, Kamon. English." 

Kamon chuckled. "Honestly? I hope he never changes." 

The school hallways resembled a chaotic river, flowing with students who were either sluggishly dragging their feet back to class or dashing toward the washrooms like their

bladders were on a countdown timer. 

Laughter, gossip, and the occasional "Move, move! I'm about to explode!" filled the air. 

Excitement buzzed as groups discussed their upcoming performances. Some were excited, while others had just realized they were expected to participate. 

Supaporn gracefully dodged a student reenacting a dramatic sword fight with a ruler before nudging Chaidee. "What performance will you do?" 

Chaidee adjusted her bag strap, smiling nervously. "A traditional Thai dance. My grandmother taught me when I was younger." 

"That sounds beautiful!" Chantana popped up between them, startling a passing student. "I want to do a comedy skit. Something outrageous. If the teachers laugh hard enough, maybe they'll forget to grade our tests." 

Boonmee smirked. "Chantana, you already make people laugh every day. Just stand on stage and be yourself." 

Chantana gasped in dramatic offense. "How dare you? My comedy is intentional!" 

Boonmee chuckled. "I think I'll play my 'khaen' flute. My uncle says I have 'the soul of an old man' when I play." 

Supaporn clapped. "Wow, so many unique performances! It'll be amazing—unless half the school mysteriously falls sick on the performance day." 

As they reached the washrooms, they were met with a long queue of students—some fixing their hair, others practicing dance moves, and a few just staring into the mirror, contemplating life choices. 

Chantana sighed. "Guess I'll practice my comedy routine while waiting for a stall." 

Boonmee deadpanned, "Please don't." 

Chaidee and Supaporn burst into laughter. 

The home economics room had been transformed into a competitive cooking arena. Ingredients were neatly arranged on the counters, and judges stood at the front, surveying the students with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. 

Kamon took a deep breath. She was ready. She had practiced Tee's family recipe and—more importantly—hadn't burned anything during the final run. 

But her confidence faltered when she spotted Patcha, standing a few stations away, smirking. 

The competition started. Kamon moved swiftly, her hands steady. 

She was in the zone. 

Until— 

CRASH!

Kamon gasped. Her sauce—her key ingredient—was splattered across the floor. 

She turned sharply. Patcha stood nearby, an innocent expression plastered on her face. 

"Oh dear," she said sweetly. "How clumsy of you." 

Kamon's jaw tightened. She did that on purpose. 

The judges were watching. She couldn't lose her temper. 

Instead, she inhaled deeply. 

"Improvise." 

Thinking fast, Kamon grabbed a few spare ingredients, mixing them in a way she hoped would work. 

She plated her dish just as the timer buzzed. 

The judges walked through the room, tasting each entry. When they reached Kamon's, they hesitated. 

Her dish… looked questionable. 

The sauce was a different color than it should have been. 

The judges exchanged glances before taking a bite. 

The entire room held its breath. 

Then— 

One judge's eyes widened. "This is… unexpectedly delightful." 

The others nodded in agreement. 

Kamon blinked. "What?"

The head judge smiled. "The balance of flavors is surprisingly good. Well done!" 

Applause erupted. 

Kamon's heart soared. 

After the competition, Kamon found Patcha near the lockers. 

"You tried to sabotage me." 

Patcha flipped her hair. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

Kamon crossed her arms. "You do. But it doesn't matter—I still did well. And honestly? That's more satisfying than beating you." 

Patcha scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that." 

Kamon smiled—not out of malice, but with genuine amusement. "You must be imagining things, You thought you could ruin me, but sorry girl I'm made of diamond." 

Patcha frowned. "Excuse me?" 

Kamon smirked. "Really? And I suppose thinking you could win over me was also a figment of your imagination?" 

With that, she turned and walked away, head held high. 

The competition results were announced. 

Kamon placed second. Not first. But she didn't care. She had competed. She had survived. 

And when her classmates patted her on the back, genuinely prou of her, she realized— 

She had won something even better than a trophy. 

She had earned respect. 

As the festival ended and students gathered for the final performances, Kamon sat beside Prem and Thanwa, watching the stage light up with music, dance, and laughter. 

She felt… at home. 

And for the first time since arriving at this school, she knew— 

She belonged.

Kamon and Supaporn stepped out of the performance room, still buzzing from the latest dance performed. The school's corridors were alive with students chatting, laughter bouncing off the walls. Just as Kamon wiped her forehead with her sleeve, a voice rang out from near the entrance. 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the queen of the cooking contest." 

Kamon groaned before turning. "Patcha. What do you want?" 

Patcha crossed her arms, smirking. "I've decided to join the culinary club. Next time there's a competition, I'm beating you." 

Supaporn raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you once mistake salt for sugar and nearly cause a mass exodus from the cafeteria?" 

Patcha scoffed. "That was one time. I've evolved." 

Kamon grinned. "Sure, just like how your pancakes evolved into doorstops." 

Students nearby giggled as Patcha's face turned red. "At least I don't cry over burnt cookies!" 

Kamon gasped dramatically. "Excuse me! That was an emotional moment! Those cookies had potential—more than you ever will in the kitchen!" 

The argument escalated, drawing an audience. Just as Patcha stepped closer, a teacher, Mr Thanom, appeared, clearing his throat loudly. 

"What's going on here?" 

Kamon suddenly held up a hand. "Wait—do you hear that?" 

Supaporn froze, eyes widening. "Oh no…" 

Patcha blinked. "Hear what?" 

"My mom," Kamon whispered. "She's calling me." 

Patcha frowned. "But we're in school. How loud is your mom's voice?" 

Supaporn sighed.

"Trust me. If Kamon's mom is calling, even the lunch ladies in the next building can hear it." 

The hallway erupted in laughter, and Patcha folded her arms, muttering, "Fine. I'll win next time."

Later that evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, Kamon headed home. Her father, a teacher at the same school, had just called her, his voice apologetic.

"Kamon, I need you to take the grocery bag I'm holding home. Something came up, and I am not feeling well, I feel a bit tired." His voice was calm but sounded tired, as it always did when he had an unexpectedly long day at school.

Kamon agreed and made her way towards the gate, where she could see her dad's familiar silhouette.

As she approached him, however, she stopped in her tracks. Thanwa was standing beside her father, both of them exchanging a brief nod as Kamon came closer.

Kamon blinked, wondering if it was a coincidence or something else. Her father noticed her surprise and offered an awkward smile.

"Kamon, this is Thanwa. He's... a classmate of yours." He looked at Thanwa, a little unsure how to proceed. "He was just on his way home, and I offered him a lift."

Thanwa smiled politely. "Nice to see you again, Kamon."

"Uh, yeah," Kamon replied, a little unsure how to respond, the unexpected situation leaving her feeling slightly awkward.

They began walking toward the gate together, the evening air cool against their skin. The walk was quieter than Kamon had anticipated, with her father and Thanwa exchanging a few casual comments about the school, but it felt strangely formal. Kamon found herself unable to shake off the odd tension that lingered.

"So, uh," Kamon started, breaking the silence, "How was your day?" she asked Thanwa, trying to make small talk.

Thanwa glanced at her, slightly surprised, but smiled. "Not bad, just the usual."

Kamon nodded, her hands stuffed into her pockets. "Yeah, I get that."

Her dad, sensing the slight awkwardness, tried to ease the mood. "How's your badminton practice going, Thanwa? I remember hearing from your coach you've been doing well."

Thanwa's face brightened a little. "It's been going good, actually. I think the friendly this weekend should be fun."

Kamon's dad smiled warmly. "That's great to hear."

The rest of the walk was mostly quiet, filled with short, polite exchanges, but the discomfort of the unusual trio heading home together lingered in the air. Kamon found herself wondering why this moment felt so strange. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Thanwa, but for some reason, everything felt off-kilter—like the world had tilted just slightly, and they were all too aware of it.

Finally, they reached her house, and Kamon, eager to break the tension, spoke up. "Thanks for helping with the groceries, Thanwa," she said quickly, before turning to her dad, "I've got it from here, Dad. You can go ahead and rest."

Her father smiled and nodded, giving Thanwa a final, appreciative look before heading inside. Kamon felt the awkwardness dissipate just a little.

"Well," Thanwa said, taking a step back, "I'll see you around, Kamon."

"Yeah, see you," she replied, watching him leave before disappearing into the house.

As she closed the door behind her, Kamon let out a small sigh. It had been an unexpected evening, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted—whether in the air, or in herself, she couldn't tell. But one thing was certain—this wasn't the last time she'd see Thanwa, and next time, it might not be so awkward.

Kamon kicked off her shoes at the doorstep and shuffled into the kitchen, the plastic grocery bag swinging from her arm. The aroma of simmering broth filled the air as her mother, Nanthana stirred a pot on the stove. 

"Here," Kamon said, placing the bag on the counter. "I got everything on the list. Oh, and Dad's not feeling well." 

Nanthana wiped her hands on her apron and sighed. "Again? What's wrong this time?" 

"He just said he feels weak. He looked kind of pale," Kamon replied, opening the fridge. "Maybe he's coming down with something." 

Nanthana scoffed, snatching the bag and peering inside. "He always 'feels weak' when there's housework to do. Watch, he'll be miraculously cured by dinnertime." 

Still grumbling, she marched toward the bedroom. Kamon followed at a safe distance, curiosity piqued. 

Inside, their father, Surasak, lay dramatically sprawled across the bed, a damp towel draped over his forehead like he was on his deathbed. 

Nanthana crossed her arms. "Surasak, what is this nonsense? You were fine yesterday." 

Surasak let out a feeble groan. "I'm serious! I feel dizzy. My head is spinning!" 

Nanthana reached for his forehead but stopped midway. Her eyes narrowed. "Have you taken any medicine?" 

Surasak shot up instantly. "Medicine?! No way!" 

Nanthana's patience wore thin. "Surasak, you are a grown man! Stop acting like a baby and take your medicine!" 

From the hallway, Kamon stifled a laugh. This was getting good. 

"Mom, don't bully Dad!" her younger brother, Tee, chimed in, poking his head into the room. 

"I'm not bullying him!" Nanthana snapped. "I'm trying to keep him alive!" 

"I don't need medicine," Surasak declared, clutching his blanket dramatically. "I just need... time." 

Nanthana pinched the bridge of her nose. "You need a doctor." 

At the word "doctor," Surasak gasped. "No! No doctors, no syringes!" 

Tee burst out laughing. "Dad, are you afraid of needles?" 

Surasak huffed. "I'm not afraid. I just—" 

"He almost fainted getting a flu shot last year," Kamon whispered to Mook. 

Nanthana sighed, rubbing her temples. "So, let me get this straight. You're too sick to help with chores, but you're not sick enough to take medicine or see a doctor?" 

Surasak hesitated. "Well... when you put it like that—" 

Nanthana grabbed a bottle of medicine from the nightstand and shoved it into his hands. "Drink. Now." 

Surasak grimaced like she had just handed him poison. "Can't I just... sleep it off?" 

Tee grinned. "Only if we don't hear any complaints later!" 

Surasak groaned in defeat, popping open the bottle. Kamon patted his shoulder. "C'mon, Dad. Be brave. Like when you almost got that flu shot." 

Laughter filled the room as Nanthana rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I have three children in this house."

-------------------------------------

Kamon sat cross-legged on the living room sofa, completely engrossed in her novel. The warm glow of the evening sun streamed through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns on the tiled floor. A steaming cup of tea rested on the side table, its delicate aroma mingling with the scent of old books from the nearby bookshelf. Peaceful. Tranquil. 

And then—utter chaos. 

"AND IIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOOUUUUUU!!!" 

Kamon's peaceful moment was obliterated by an ear-splitting, off-key wail from her brother, Tee. She flinched so hard that she nearly spilled her tea. From the other room, Tee's voice cracked so violently that even the house geckos might have winced. 

She slammed her book shut and groaned. "Tee!" she called, but the boy was oblivious, lost in his own world with oversized headphones clamped over his ears. 

"WHY DO BIRDS SUDDENLY APPEAR—" Tee's voice broke mid-note, sounding like a rooster in distress. 

Kamon massaged her temples. "Oh, for the love of all things melodious—Tee!" she yelled louder, but her brother, now fully convinced he was performing a stadium concert, grabbed a broom and used it as a makeshift microphone. 

From the kitchen, their mother peered in, unimpressed. "Is he in pain, or is he just attacking music itself?" she muttered. 

"I think both," Kamon replied, marching toward Tee's room. 

She yanked off his headphones. Tee yelped, his makeshift concert coming to an abrupt halt. "Hey! I was in the zone!" 

"You were in the noise complaint zone," Kamon deadpanned. 

Their younger cousin, Pim, peeked in. "Was that a dying cat or you, Tee?" 

Tee clutched his heart dramatically. "Haters, all of you!" 

Kamon rolled her eyes. "We're just trying to protect humanity, Tee. Now, for the sake of our eardrums—keep it down!"