20 The Battle For Phakit

When class finally ended, the students packed up their things, still giggling about Nicha's legendary moment. 

"That was the funniest thing I've seen all week," Tanawat said as they walked out. "You should start a trend—'paper-chewing for stress relief.'" 

"New diet plan: Eat homework," Fah added.

Nicha sighed. "I don't know whether to feel proud or embarrassed."

"Both," Ploynapat said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "You're now a school legend." 

As they strolled down the hallway, Supaporn turned to Ploynapat. 

"So, remind me again. Why do we do this every day?"

Ploynapat smirked. "Because someday, when we're rich, successful, and living our best lives, we'll look back on this and laugh." 

Supaporn exhaled. "Yeah. Either that or we'll still be waking up earlier than birds and sleeping later than thieves." 

"At least then, we'll be getting paid for it." 

And with that, they all walked off, leaving another chaotic day behind—just another chapter in the never-ending saga of school life. 

The following day brought new surprises, drama, and a battle so ridiculous it would be talked about for years. 

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A handsome new transfer student, Phakit, had arrived, and the school had descended into absolute chaos. 

Two rival classes— Class 3B and Class 3C—stood on the verge of war. 

The battlefield? The school courtyard.

The cause? Love, admiration, and an unhealthy obsession with a boy who had yet to utter more than five words in his new school.

It All Started Innocently Enough... 

Phakit was tall, charming, and had the kind of smile that could make even the strictest teachers momentarily forget that they were supposed to be mean. 

The moment he walked into the school, Class 3B wasted no time in launching Operation: Get Noticed." 

They sent him letters—dozens of them. Some were scented, others had pink glitter, and one was just a three-page essay titled "Why You Should Date Me, By Fah." 

They left chocolates on his desk—expensive ones. One girl even tried sneaking in a gold-plated box of truffles, which was promptly confiscated by a hungry teacher. 

They "casually" walked past his classroom—every single break time. Some did dramatic slow-motion hair flips, others giggled way too loudly, and a few even tripped over their own feet in their attempts to look graceful.

But there was a problem.

Class 3C had also set their sights on Phakin. 

And in their eyes? 

"Class 3B needed to back off."

At the heart of the conflict stood Noon, the fierce, no-nonsense Class 3C prefect. 

After watching her classmates devolve into simpering messes over "some boy with good hair". she had had enough. 

Storming into the Class 3B hallway, she crossed her arms and announced with a glare that could melt steel*l, 

"You all need to back off! Phakit is in OUR class, and you girls are acting like desperate chickens!" 

A collective gasp swept through the crowd. 

Kanya, the self-proclaimed leader of Class 3B's admirers, took a step forward, hands on her hips. 

"Excuse me?! Who made you the Phakit Police?" 

Pim, Kanya's best friend, folded her arms and smirked. 

"Last I checked, he's NOT your property."

Noon scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

"You girls have NO dignity! Running after him like little kids. Do you even realize how EMBARRASSING you look?" 

Warinya from Class 3B smirked, flipping her ponytail dramatically. 

"Oh, and what about YOU? Acting all protective? Don't tell me you actually think YOU have a chance." 

A deadly silence fell over the hallway. 

Noon clenched her fists. 

"Say that again."

And that was all it took. 

One moment, it was a verbal fight. 

The next? Utter chaos. 

Pim was the first to lose her temper. 

"You think you're so tough? Let's see how tough you are WITHOUT all that attitude!" 

Before anyone could blink, she lunged at Noon. 

Noon dodged, but Kanya jumped in, grabbing Noon's arm. 

"Not so fast!" Kanya yelled. 

Within seconds, the fight escalated. 

Girls screamed. Hair was pulled. Desks were knocked over. 

On one side, Class 3B had six warriors in the battle: 

Kanya,Pim,Warinya,Nicha,Fah and Mook.

On the other, Class 3C had seven: 

Noon,Pear,Namtarn,Bow,Aom,Chompoo and Mint. 

It was a battle of pure mayhem. Punches weren't exactly thrown, but hair-pulling and wild slaps? Oh, there was PLENTY of that. 

At one point, Nicha grabbed Mint's ponytail and spun her around like she was in a martial arts movie. 

Meanwhile, Pear managed to shove Pim against a locker, but Pim retaliated by grabbing her by the collar. 

"Say 'I surrender' before I ruin your perfect hair!"Pim growled. 

Bow, a Class 3C fighter, was dodging flying textbooks when she yelled, 

"Why are we fighting over a guy we barely KNOW?!"

Warinya, who was mid-wrestle with Namtarn, paused and shouted back, 

"I dunno, but if we stop now, it'll feel like we lost!" 

Noon grabbed Kanya by the arm and attempted to pin her, but Kanya was more slippery than expected. 

"You really think you can take me?!" Kanya taunted. 

"I don't THINK—I KNOW!" Noon shot back, grabbing a nearby ruler as a makeshift sword. 

Not to be outdone, Kanya grabbed a rolled-up poster from the nearby bulletin board. 

It became a full-on duel. 

Meanwhile, Outside... 

Phakit, the cause of all of this chaos, stood in the courtyard, completely unaware that two classes were going to war over him. 

He was calmly trying to figure out the vending machine, as he had been stuck on the "SELECT YOUR ITEM" screen for five whole minutes. 

Behind him, two boys from Class 3C, Tawan and Korn, were watching the madness unfold from the window. 

Tawan nudged Korn. 

"Dude. You think we should tell him?" 

Korn took a long sip of his soda. 

"Nah, let them work it out." 

Tawan nodded. 

"Smart. Very smart." 

Inside the school, the battle raged on.

"Ahhh! Let go, you lunatic!" Mint shrieked, her voice piercing through the commotion. 

Noon, unfazed by the outcry, had both hands firmly tangled in the hair of two Class 1 girls—Kanya and Warinya—yanking their heads side to side like a furious puppet master. 

"YOU WANT A FIGHT? I'LL GIVE YOU A FIGHT!" she bellowed, her grip tightening. 

Kanya, despite the searing pain, lashed out blindly. "LET! GO!" she snarled, her arms flailing as she tried to claw at Noon's face. 

Meanwhile, Fah and Aom were rolling across the floor in what could only be described as an uncoordinated wrestling match gone horribly wrong. Their limbs tangled, their uniforms rumpled, and their expressions a mix of rage and determination. 

Across the room, Mook—somehow, against all logic—had latched her teeth onto Pear's arm. 

"IS SOMEONE BITING ME?!" Pear shrieked, her voice thick with disbelief and pain. 

"STOP, STOP, STOP!"

The uproar reached a deafening peak, loud enough to rattle the classroom windows and, more importantly, attract the attention of the teachers. 

And that was when the school counselor arrived. 

The tension between Kanya and Noon had been building all the time, but now it had finally exploded. They stood in the middle of the classroom, desks pushed aside as students circled them, watching in shock. Kanya's fists clenched as she glared at Noon, her breath sharp and ragged. 

"You think you can just hit me and walk away?" Kanya snapped, wiping the corner of her mouth where Noon's last punch had landed. 

Noon, her stance steady, narrowed her eyes. "Maybe if you knew when to back off, you wouldn't have gotten hit." 

Kanya lunged forward, her anger overriding any sense of reason. She grabbed Noon by the collar, shoving her back against the desk. Noon retaliated, gripping Kanya's wrist and twisting it, forcing her to release her grip. The scuffle turned aggressive—shoves, punches, wild swings. The sound of books crashing to the floor mixed with the shouts of their classmates. 

"Enough!" Their teacher's voice rang out, firm and commanding. He rushed in, grabbing both girls by the arms, trying to pull them apart. "Stop this right now!" 

Noon took a step back, panting, her expression unreadable. But Kanya wasn't done. Her eyes were burning, her pulse pounding. "She hit me last," she spat. "I'm not letting her walk away like that." 

"Then come on," Noon taunted, brushing her sleeve off as if inviting another round. 

"Kanya, Noon, if you continue this, you're both getting expelled!" The teacher's voice carried a sharp threat, her patience clearly at its limit. 

That finally made them pause. The room fell silent except for their heavy breathing. Kanya's fingers curled into fists again, but she didn't move. Noon stared back, still tense but unwilling to back down. 

Miss Duangkamol arms were crossed. Her eyes scanned the war zone. 

Books were everywhere. Hair was messy. One girl was still clutching a shoe that wasn't even hers. 

Miss Duangkamol inhaled deeply, pinched the bridge of her nose. and then— 

"WHO started this?" 

There was silence. 

Then, in perfect synchronization, both Class 3C and Class 3B pointed at each other. 

"THEY DID." 

As they shuffled out of the hallway, Kanya leaned toward Noon and whispered, 

"This isn't over."

Noon smirked. 

"Oh, I know."

Elsewhere in the school, Napat sprinted down the hallway, his breath ragged and uneven. He dodged a cluster of students loitering near the lockers, barely managing to avoid slipping on the freshly mopped floor. His urgency drowned out any concern for the near fall—he had pressing news. 

Bursting into Class 3C, his eyes darted around the room until they landed on Phakit, who sat hunched over his desk, wholly absorbed in a folded letter. 

"Phakit!" Napat gasped, bracing himself against the doorway. "You need to come now! The girls are—" He paused mid-sentence, finally noticing the peculiar look on his friend's face. 

Phakit wasn't alarmed. He wasn't even curious. Instead, he held up the letter, its edges slightly crumpled. His fingers traced over an elaborate map sketched in blue ink. 

"Do you understand this?" Phakit asked, his voice eerily calm, laced with intrigue. 

Napat frowned and stepped closer. The map was a maze of curved lines, cryptic symbols, and arrows converging on a single final destination—marked with a heart. 

After a brief silence, Napat smirked. "Only the person who drew it could possibly understand."

Phakit sighed, staring at the map as if it held the secrets of the universe. 

Napat folded his arms. "So? Are you coming to witness the disaster, or are you going to sit here decoding your mystery?"

Phakit grinned, slipping the letter into his pocket. "Who says I can't do both?" 

With that, he stood, ready to face the mayhem unfolding outside. 

The counseling office was tense. 

Thirteen girls sat in stiff chairs, arms crossed, their expressions a mixture of defiance and resentment. Their hair was a mess, their uniforms disheveled, and more than a few were rubbing sore spots. 

Across from them sat Miss Duangkamol, the school's guidance counselor—her lips pressed into a thin, unamused line. 

She exhaled sharply. "Would any of you like to explain… what in the world just happened?"

Silence. 

Kanya's arms tightened across her chest. "Class 3C thinks they own Phakit." 

Noon immediately shot back, "Class 3B is full of desperate girls!" 

"ENOUGH!" Miss Duangkamol's voice cracked like a whip. "Are you seriously fighting over a boy?" 

Not a single response. 

She sighed, shaking her head. "Do you even realize how ridiculous this is? Pulling hair? Screaming? Rolling on the floor like a pack of stray cats?" 

Still, silence. 

With an exasperated sigh, she leaned forward. "Alright. Since you all seem to enjoy fighting so much, I have the perfect punishment." 

The girls tensed. 

"You will each write a 500-word essay on why violence is never the answer—" she paused for emphasis "together. As a group. And you will present it at the school assembly next Monday." 

A collective groan filled the room. 

Kanya and Noon exchanged horrified glances. 

"Together? With them?" Kanya hissed, motioning toward Class 3C. 

"Why are we getting punished?!" Pim protested. 

Miss Duangkamol arched an eyebrow. "Would you rather I call your parents?" 

Immediate silence. 

Defeated, the girls slumped in their chairs. The war was over. 

And Phakit? 

Well, he had absolutely "no idea" any of this had happened. 

The thirteen girls sat at a long table in the now-empty counseling room, glaring at one another as if their mere presence was an offense. 

Miss Duangkamol loomed behind them, arms crossed. "Write. Together. And I mean together," she commanded. 

Kanya shot a venomous look at Noon. "This is your fault." 

Noon scoffed. "If you didn't swoon every time he smiled, we wouldn't be in this mess!" 

"You started it!"Kanya snapped. 

"Can we focus?" Pim groaned. "The sooner we finish, the sooner we escape." 

Reluctantly, they opened their notebooks. 

"How do we even start?" Nicha asked, tapping her pen against the table. 

"Simple," Kanya began, trying to assert control. "We write that fighting is wrong, and—" 

"Fighting is wrong because—" Noon interrupted, but before she could finish, chaos erupted once again. 

Pim slammed Noon's notebook onto the desk. "Stop acting like you're in charge! I'm writing this part!" 

"Give it back!" Noon snapped, lunging at her. 

Chairs screeched as another scuffle broke out. 

"ENOUGH!" Miss Duangkamol's voice thundered, her patience finally snapping. "If you don't work together, you'll be here until midnight!"

That got their attention. The girls exchanged uneasy glances before begrudgingly returning to their task. 

Just then, the door creaked open, and in walked Phakit. 

He carried a bag of snacks. 

The room went still. 

"Uh… I brought snacks?" he said hesitantly, completely unaware of the battlefield he had just walked into. 

Noon immediately perked up. "You brought snacks?!" 

Without thinking, Pim lunged for the bag. "Mine!"

Kanya snatched it first. "You always do this!" 

And just like that, the room dissolved into chaos once more. 

Miss Duangkamol, beyond exasperated, slammed a book onto the desk. "MORE DETENTION!" 

A collective groan echoed through the room. 

And so, the long night stretched before them, filled with frustration, grumbling, and, hopefully, a half-decent essay on "why violence is never the answer".

The girls slumped in their seats, each trying to suppress their frustration. Their long, painful detention hours stretched out in front of them, the burden of their actions beginning to sink in.

The evening sky darkened as the clock struck six, and the school's watchman—already disgruntled after a long day—stood near the entrance, giving the group a hard look. 

The girls shuffled out of the building, tired and still simmering with anger. Their uniforms were wrinkled, their hair disheveled, and they were all grumpy from hours of forced cooperation.

As they approached the gate, the watchman raised an eyebrow. "You girls are late... again." His voice was low, his gaze sharp as he crossed his arms.

"We were... working on a project," Pim muttered, trying to avoid eye contact. 

"You should've left hours ago. I have to lock up the gates," the watchman grumbled, giving them all a pointed look. 

"I'm sorry," Warinya said quickly, hoping the watchman would let them off the hook. But when he turned his attention to Supaporn, the other girls braced themselves.

It was late evening at the school, and the sun was beginning to set behind the tall buildings. The hallways were mostly empty, and the only sound that echoed through the corridors was the rhythmic clicking of Miss Duangkamol's shoes as she walked down the hallway. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she spoke to the watchman, Mr. Somchai, who was standing near the school gates, looking at his phone with an air of boredom.

"Mr. Somchai," Miss Duangkamol began, her voice stern but not unkind, "do you know what happened with the girls earlier today?"

The watchman looked up from his phone, startled, then nodded, his face a mixture of amusement and frustration. "Ah, yes, Miss Duangkamol. I saw them fighting like... I don't know what you'd call it. A war zone? They were tearing at each other like a pack of wild animals, all because of some boy."

Miss Duangkamol sighed, her fingers pushing back her glasses in a tired gesture. "I don't understand it. They're such bright students, but they let something so trivial get under their skin. This isn't the first time either. I've had to talk to them about these ridiculous fights before."

Mr. Somchai chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It's always the same, Miss Duangkamol. I've been working here long enough to know the drill. Girls at that age… they're like volcanoes, constantly bubbling up with emotions. They'll get over it eventually. Just make sure to keep them separated for a while."

Miss Duangkamol sighed again, exasperated but not surprised. "It's not just about the fighting, Mr. Somchai. I worry about how they're letting their emotions control them. And the worst part is, no one ever takes responsibility. It's always someone else's fault."

Mr. Somchai scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, that's where you come in, Miss Duangkamol. You'll have to teach them some life lessons. Not everyone learns things the easy way, after all."

Miss Duangkamol nodded. "You're right. But I still can't help feeling disappointed. We spend so much time trying to build them up, but in the end, it always comes back to things like this. So petty."

The watchman gave a wry grin. "Sometimes, Miss Duangkamol, it's just the nature of things. You can only do so much."

Miss Duangkamol gave a small smile, grateful for his grounded perspective. "I suppose you're right. Thank you, Mr. Somchai."