18 Rainy Day Blues

The day started like any other, with the sun casting a golden glow over the school courtyard. Students laughed, chattered, and shuffled into their classrooms, utterly unaware of the brewing storm above. 

Then, just before lunch, the sky darkened. 

The first few raindrops were met with indifferent shrugs - until the wind picked up, and the downpour turned into a torrential storm. 

Within minutes, the school was in pandemonium.

Teachers hurried to close windows, students scrambled to save their books from getting drenched, and the courtyard transformed into a shallow lake. 

By the time the bell rang, it was clear: no one was going anywhere. 

A high school classroom, midday. The rain outside is pouring heavily, drumming against the windows. Students are chatting, laughing, and enjoying the cozy atmosphere, knowing that heavy rain usually means teachers arrive late - or sometimes not at all. The class is in an uproar, thrilled at the thought of yet another free period. Then, an ominous shift occurs... 

The classroom buzzed with excitement as the rain intensified, drowning out any potential sounds from the hallway. It was the perfect storm - literally. No teacher in sight, no lessons to endure, just pure, unadulterated freedom. 

"Man, I love rain," sighed Chanon, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. "It's like nature's way of giving us a break from suffering." 

"True," agreed Ploynapat, flipping through a magazine instead of her math textbook. "This is probably the happiest I've been all week." 

As if on cue, the classroom door creaked slightly. Everyone froze. The tension in the air was palpable. Then, the door stopped moving. 

"False alarm," muttered Jirapat, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "We're still free." 

The room exploded into hushed giggles and high-fives. The class prefect, Sirikarn, took it upon herself to ensure their liberty remained intact. She adjusted her glasses, straightened her tie, and took a deep breath. 

"I'll check the hallway," she announced like a war general preparing for battle. "We need confirmation." 

"Be swift," whispered Chanon dramatically, placing a hand on his heart. "If you don't return, we shall avenge you." 

Rolling her eyes, Sirikarn tiptoed to the door and peeked outside. The hallway was empty. Her heart soared. She turned back, grinning like a victorious gladiator. 

"We're safe!" she whispered excitedly. "Still no class!" 

The room erupted in cheers, students clapping and exchanging victorious glances. Sirikarn strutted back in, reveling in her moment of glory. 

And then - disaster struck. 

The moment Sirikarn turned around, her triumphant expression crumbled. Standing at the front of the classroom, completely unbothered by their celebration, was none other than Mr. Thompson, their mathematics teacher. 

A collective gasp rippled through the class. The color drained from Sirikarn's face. She froze mid-step, her arms still raised in victory. 

"Well," Mr. Thompson began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's heartwarming to see such unity in my class. What exactly are we celebrating? The fact that I am still alive and capable of attending my job?" 

Silence. 

"Um..." Sirikarn stammered, still in shock. "We...we thought you wouldn't make it because of the rain." 

Mr. Thompson raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight - you saw the rain, assumed I would melt like sugar, and therefore decided to act like you were on a school holiday?" 

A few students snickered, but they were quickly silenced by a single glare from the teacher. 

Sirikarn, realizing she had been abandoned by the class, did the only thing she could think of - she slowly shuffled to her seat, keeping her head down. 

"You all thought you were free," Mr. Thompson continued, pacing in front of the class. "Unfortunately, the university entrance exams do not share your enthusiasm for rainfall. Now, let's begin- " 

"- with trigonometry," the entire class recited in monotone, finishing his sentence for him. 

Mr. Thompson blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"We know, sir," Ploynapat sighed, flipping open her notebook. "Every time you're about to teach us something, you remind us that university entrance exams are merciless, and we must dedicate our lives to mastering mathematics." 

"You always say, 'This will be on the entrance exams, and if you don't learn it now, you will suffer!'" added Jirapat, mimicking his dramatic voice. 

"And then you say, 'One day, you'll regret not paying attention in my class!'" chimed in Thanakon. 

"Followed by, 'Mathematics is the foundation of success!'" Mike concluded, nodding sagely. 

A heavy silence filled the room. Mr. Thompson stared at them, visibly trying to process the fact that they had, in essence, memorized his motivational speeches word for word. 

"Well," he finally said, adjusting his glasses. "At least some part of my lectures have stayed in your minds." 

Determined not to let the students' antics shake him, Mr. Thompson turned to the whiteboard and began scribbling equations. 

"Now, class, let's begin with a simple problem -" 

A loud BOOM of thunder cracked through the sky, rattling the windows. The power flickered, and the students exchanged hopeful glances. 

"Please let there be a blackout," whispered Chanon under his breath. 

A second later, the lights returned. 

"CURSE YOU, ELECTRICITY!" shouted Jirapat dramatically, shaking his fists at the ceiling. 

"Enough," said Mr. Thompson, rubbing his temples. "Let's focus." 

He turned back to the board, writing out a long equation. 

As he spoke, the rain outside grew heavier, creating a consistent, soothing background noise. The students began to relax, their eyes drooping as the rhythmic downpour acted like a natural lullaby. 

"Now, if we take the cosine of—" 

The rain drowned out his voice. 

It was beautiful. 

For the first time in history, a math lesson was happening, and yet, no one had to endure it. The sound of the storm completely overpowered Mr. Thompson's voice, turning his lecture into a silent performance. 

The students exchanged knowing looks, reveling in their luck. It was like watching a silent movie of a math class without having to hear any of it. 

Mr. Thompson, blissfully unaware, continued writing, passionately explaining concepts that no one could hear. 

Leo nudged Ploynapat. "I think this might be my favorite lesson ever." 

Jirapat wiped away a fake tear. "I've never appreciated rain this much." 

Sirikarn, still recovering from her earlier embarrassment, dared to whisper, "What if he realizes we can't hear him?" 

Right on cue, Mr. Thompson turned around and was met with the most engaged-looking students he had ever seen. 

Not because they were listening. 

But because they were focusing so hard on pretending to listen. 

"Hmm," Mr. Thompson said, tapping his chin. "You all look... attentive. Too attentive." 

He narrowed his eyes and said something, but again, the rain drowned him out. 

Chanon nudged Thanakon. "What do you think he just said?" 

"I have no idea. But I'm nodding like I do." 

Mr. Thompson watched as every single student in the room nodded enthusiastically. 

He squinted. Something wasn't right. 

Then it hit him. 

The rain. 

The storm was making his voice completely inaudible. 

His mouth slowly fell open as realization dawned. 

"You can't hear me, can you?" he asked, testing the waters. 

The class responded with a synchronized, perfectly executed nod. 

A pause. 

"Then why are you all nodding?!" 

Utter chaos erupted. Laughter, cheers, a few guilty giggles. Students clapped, high-fived, and cheered the rain for its impeccable timing. 

Mr. Thompson sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "I give up." 

"Does this mean class is dismissed?" asked Thanakon hopefully. 

Mr. Thompson shot him a glare. "No. It means I'm going to get a microphone." 

A collective groan filled the room. 

"Why does he always have to win?" Jirapat muttered. 

"Because he's evil," Ploynapat replied. 

As Mr. Thompson marched out, determined to be louder than the storm, the students slumped in defeat. 

But the moment he left, Chanon grinned. 

"Well, we have five minutes before he returns. Who wants to play charades?" 

And just like that, the rain-fueled rebellion continued.

Outside, Supaporn stood at the school gates, peering through the sheets of rain. 

"We can't leave Kamon stranded!" She declared, gripping a large umbrella like a knight wielding a sword. 

Beside her, Nanthana sighed, arms crossed. "You do realize she's inside a building and not trapped in a flood, right?" 

"That's not the point!" Supaporn insisted. "This is my chance to be her hero!" 

Before Nanthana could stop her, she charged into the school. 

Inside, Kamon was trapped in her classroom, watching the rain hammer against the windows. Students were sprawled across desks and chairs, resigned to their fate. 

Then - Supaporn burst through the hallway. 

"Kamon!" She bellowed, causing students to jump in surprise. "I have come to rescue you!" 

Holding her umbrella aloft like a victorious warrior,she sprinted towards her classroom. But the wet floor had other plans. 

With a dramatic whoosh, Supaporn lost her footing and skidded down the hallway, her umbrella flipping inside out as she crashed into a stack of chairs. 

A moment of stunned silence. 

Then, uproarious laughter. 

Kamon, covering her face in embarrassment, sighed. "I don't know her." 

Outside the school gates, a student named Pim was waiting under the awning, staring at the flooded street. 

She had barely stepped forward when a car sped through a puddle, sending a massive splash of water her way. 

At the last second, Pim grabbed a brick from a nearby pile of construction materials and raised it menacingly. 

The driver, seeing his life flash before his eyes, slammed on the brakes. 

Pim tilted her head, smirking. "That's what I thought." 

With exaggerated grace, she turned and walked back under the awning - bone dry. 

Meanwhile, in the courtyard, a group of rich girls stood under a shelter, huffing dramatically. 

"Ugh, my designer shoes!" one of them groaned. "I knew I should have brought my driver today." 

Nearby, a mischievous duo - Lamai and Fon - exchanged glances. 

"Should we?" Fon whispered. 

Lamai grinned, placing a water bottle in the middle of the sidewalk. 

Right on cue, a student on a bicycle came speeding by. 

CRUNCH - SPLASH! 

The bottle burst, sending a tidal wave of muddy water flying directly onto the rich girls. 

A chorus of horrified shrieks followed. 

Lamai and Fon? 

They had already vanished into the crowd. 

A high school classroom in Thailand. The students are lazily slumped over their desks, watching the sky through the windows. A few minutes ago, they were dreading the upcoming PE class, but now... 

The first raindrop hit the window. Then another. And another. 

Before anyone could process it, the skies opened up, releasing a torrential downpour. 

A moment of silence passed. 

Then— 

"YESSSSSSS!" 

The entire class erupted into cheers. 

"No PE!" 

"No running laps in the burning sun!" 

"Thank you, rain gods!" 

Kamon dramatically fell to her knees in gratitude. "Mother Nature has finally shown mercy!" 

Supaporn clutched her chest. "I was already mentally preparing for the humiliation of failing to catch a ball again." 

Jirapat wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "I was about to fake a stomachache to get out of class, but now I don't have to." 

Sirikarn, ever the realist, hesitated. "Wait… what if he still makes us do exercises indoors?" 

The class froze. 

"Impossible," Chanon said, shaking his head. "He can't torture us like that." 

"You underestimate Mr. Sarawat," Kamon muttered darkly. 

The students turned to the door, waiting. 

Right on cue, Mr. Sarawat entered the classroom, looking like a disappointed father whose children had just escaped punishment. 

"Alright, class," he said, arms crossed. "Since we can't go outside, we'll be doing stretching exercises instead." 

Groans filled the room. 

"I should've just run in the rain," Jirapat muttered. 

Mr. Sarawat ignored their despair and clapped his hands. "Everyone, stand up!" 

With exaggerated sluggishness, the students rose from their seats, moving as if they were made of stone. 

"First, touch your toes," the teacher instructed. 

Most students barely made it past their knees. Kamon, the only flexible one, effortlessly touched the floor and gave the others a smug look. 

"I think I pulled something," Leo whispered, still stuck halfway down. 

"Next, arm circles," Mr. Sarawat continued. 

This part seemed easy—until he said, "Fifty repetitions." 

"Fifty?" Supaporn gasped. "For what purpose?" 

"For your health," Mr. Sarawat replied with an evil grin. 

By the 20th rotation, people were dropping like flies. Chanon dramatically collapsed onto his desk. "I can't feel my shoulders anymore!" 

Jirapat, still moving his arms weakly, muttered, "Just leave me here to die." 

Ploynapat stopped altogether. "You know what? I'll just accept a failing grade in PE." 

Meanwhile, Mr. Sarawat was unfazed. "Good, now let's move on to squats!" 

The class collectively groaned again. 

Kamon, sweating but determined, whispered, "This man is a monster." 

Supaporn nodded solemnly. "Pure evil." 

Despite their suffering, the rain continued to pour outside, their only comfort. 

But as they struggled through their stretches, a horrifying thought crossed Kamon's mind. 

"...What if it stops raining before class ends?" 

A chill ran through the room. 

They all turned to the window in silent terror, watching the storm like their lives depended on it. 

And so, their prayers began again. 

"Dear rain gods… don't stop now."

With the rain refusing to let up, Kamon and Thanwa found themselves trapped in the hallway, leaning against the window ledge. 

For once, there was no teasing, no sarcasm. Just the rhythmic patter of raindrops and the occasional distant laughter of their classmates. 

Kamon sighed, watching the blurred outlines of trees swaying in the storm. "I used to love the rain." 

Thanwa glanced at her. "Used to?" 

She hesitated. "*Back home, rain meant curling up with a book. Or running outside barefoot and feeling free. But here? It just feels… lonely.*" 

Thanwa was silent for a moment before he spoke, his voice softer than usual. "I get that." 

Kamon turned to him, surprised. 

"You do?" 

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. "Moving somewhere new always makes familiar things feel different. Like they don't belong to you anymore." 

Kamon blinked. He understands. 

Something shifted in her chest—a quiet realization. 

"I like talking to him." She liked Thanwa. And that thought? Terrified her. 

An hour later, the downpour softened into a gentle drizzle. 

The announcement came over the speakers: "Students are now permitted to leave. Please be cautious of wet floors." 

Kamon gathered her things, her thoughts a tangled mess. 

As she stepped outside, the fresh scent of rain filled the air. The sky, once stormy, was now a canvas of soft grays and blues, tinged with the last light of the setting sun. 

Thanwa walked past her, heading toward the gate. 

She hesitated—then called out. "Thanwa!" 

He turned. 

Kamon gave him a small, uncertain smile. "See you tomorrow?" 

Thanwa's lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Yeah. See you tomorrow." 

Just then Supaporn showed up behind her smiling.

"Oooh, someone's got a favourite." She said.

And as Kamon walked home, she felt something new. 

Not dread. 

Not uncertainty. 

But hope.