32 Pichai’s New Girl: Supaporn, Queen of First Dates!

Supaporn walked into school the next morning, her stomach already twisting in knots. She had barely stepped onto the school grounds when she felt the familiar weight of impending teasing settle on her shoulders. The date with Pichai—her first real date—had gone well enough, but she knew it wouldn't stay private for long. After all, it was high school, where nothing stayed secret for more than five minutes.

As she approached the school entrance, she could hear the clatter of lockers opening and closing, the indistinct chatter of students trying to rush through their morning routines. Her steps slowed as she reached the door, and then she saw her: Kamon, leaning dramatically against the frame, as if she were auditioning for a role in a soap opera. Beside her, two girls—Pim and Naree—were standing with their arms crossed, giggling like they were plotting something.

"Supaporn!" Kamon called out in an exaggerated tone, her voice high-pitched and mock-sweet. "How was your big night?" She drew out the word big in the most sarcastic way possible, causing Pim and Naree to burst into snickers.

Supaporn swallowed her nerves and plastered a smile on her face. "It was fine, thanks," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady, but it came out a little too strained. Kamon's eyes sparkled with mischief as she pushed herself off the doorframe, blocking Supaporn's path.

"Oh, come on!" Kamon cooed, stepping closer. "Spill the details! Was he a gentleman? Did he buy you dinner? Or were you two just... hanging out?" Kamon raised an eyebrow, and Pim and Naree leaned in, waiting for a reaction.

Supaporn forced herself not to roll her eyes. "It was just a simple date," she said, stepping past them, "Nothing fancy."

"Oh, simple, huh?" Naree said with a laugh. "Did you two go to the fancy place on the corner, or was it a picnic under the stars? What was it? A moonlit bowling alley? A vintage ice cream shop?"

"Vintage?" Kamon interrupted, gasping dramatically. "You are a romantic, Supaporn!" she said with a wink.

Supaporn gritted her teeth, trying to keep her composure. "I really need to get to class," she muttered, brushing past them and making her way down the hallway. 

The sound of Kamon and her crew's laughter trailed behind her like a low hum, and Supaporn quickened her pace, wishing she could teleport straight to the safety of her desk. She didn't want to face them today—not after hearing their whispers last night, not after knowing what awaited her in the classroom.

As soon as she walked into the room, she felt all eyes on her. She could almost hear the collective intake of breath as she made her way toward her seat in the back corner. She hoped no one had noticed her slip into the room unnoticed, but the second she sat down, she glanced up and saw it. The school board.

It was covered in scribbled letters, crude drawings, and cartoonish hearts. In bold letters, someone had written: "Pichai's New Girl: Supaporn, Queen of First Dates!" Below that, a stick figure with a heart for a head was drawn beside an equally exaggerated drawing of Pichai with the words "Mr. Perfect Date". Around the drawing were giggling smiley faces, and a giant arrow pointed to Supaporn's seat with the label "Sucker for Love". 

She groaned, sinking further into her chair. "I should've known," she muttered under her breath, wondering if she was destined to live the rest of her school days as a joke. Kamon's voice echoed in her head: "What was it? A moonlit bowling alley?"

Her classmates were already whispering behind her, barely hiding their amusement.

"Hey, Supaporn!" one of the boys from the front called out, his voice half-laughing. "Is it true? Did Pichai really bring you flowers? Or did you have to buy your own bouquet?"

Before Supaporn could respond, another voice piped up, "I heard he sang you a song. Did you blush? Is it true that you held hands the whole time?"

She rolled her eyes and buried her face in her notebook. "So much for simple," she muttered to herself.

At that moment, the teacher, Mr. Panya, walked in, and the chatter died down immediately. He looked up at the board, then at Supaporn, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What's all this?" he asked, tapping his pointer at the board, clearly unaware of the inside joke. 

"Uh… it's just a little... art project," Supaporn said quickly, her voice flat.

"Hmm. Well, it's certainly... creative," Mr. Panya said, clearing his throat. He turned to write on the whiteboard, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in the classroom. 

Kamon, who had quietly entered a few moments after Supaporn, leaned toward Naree and Pim at the desk beside her. "You know, I think we should all start drawing on the board. Maybe I'll draw a second date for Supaporn with Pichai," Kamon said with a wicked grin, "Complete with flowers and stars."

Naree snorted, covering her mouth. "Maybe you can draw the third date too, with the wedding proposal."

Supaporn could feel the blush creeping up her neck again. She sank lower into her chair, wishing for a hole to swallow her whole. 

But then, as if on cue, her best friend, Jinda, suddenly appeared by her desk. "You guys are a bunch of clowns," Jinda said with a smirk. "What's all this nonsense on the board?"

"They're mocking Supaporn's date with Pichai," Kamon said, feigning innocence.

Jinda raised an eyebrow, glancing at Supaporn. "Mocking? Really? That's a pretty dramatic way to talk about a simple date."

Supaporn shot Jinda a grateful look, and Jinda smirked back. "Maybe we should all join in and start drawing on the board too—create some real art. How about a nice big 'First Date Champion' badge for Supaporn?" 

Her tone was playful, but it made Supaporn feel a little less alone in the sea of whispers. 

At least Jinda had her back—whether it was a simple date or not.

The afternoon sun baked the classroom like an oven, the heat sinking into every surface, wrapping around the students like a heavy blanket. It was the kind of weather that made eyelids droop, brains shut down, and any attempt at productivity feel like an act of war against nature itself. 

In the far-right corner of the classroom, Phurit, a known expert in the art of sleeping with his eyes half-open, was slumped over his desk. His breathing was slow and steady, his pen still held in his fingers, giving the illusion of an attentive student. 

Unfortunately, the class monitor, Naphat, had sharp eyes and an even sharper sense of justice. 

"Phurit!" she snapped, striding over like a general inspecting lazy soldiers. 

Phurit didn't move. 

"Phurit, are you sleeping?!" 

Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes still half-lidded, and sighed deeply. 

"I'm consulting the ancestors," he said solemnly. 

The class erupted into laughter. Someone at the back let out a dramatic "OOOOHHH" like he'd just unlocked the secrets of the universe. 

Naphat rolled her eyes. "What kind of ancestors, Phurit?" 

"The wise ones," he replied, placing a hand over his heart. "They speak to me in my dreams." 

From the other side of the room, Punnapa, a girl with the sharpest tongue in the school, snorted. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. 

"Well, my ancestors published a daily magazine," she announced, flipping her hair. "That's why I inherited their mouth." 

The class lost it. Even Naphat had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. 

"Miss Editor-in-Chief," she deadpanned, "maybe lower your volume before you wake up Phurit's ancestors." 

Punnapa smirked. "Too late. They're already planning tomorrow's edition." 

Just as the laughter was dying down, Ploynapat, famous for her unnecessary dramatics, opened her mouth. 

"Shut up, Ploynapat!" someone groaned. 

Ploynapat stood up immediately, chin high, eyes burning with defiance. 

With exaggerated flair, she grabbed the collar of her blouse and pulled it up as high as it could go, as if shielding herself from the cruel world. 

"How DARE you silence me?!" she gasped. "I am but a humble scholar, a servant of education, a victim of—" 

"Ploynapat, kneel down!" Naphat ordered. 

Everyone turned to watch.

Ploynapat, ever the creative rebel, didn't just kneel like a normal student. No, she sat in an absurd position where her knees pointed downward instead of forward, as if she were a malfunctioning robot. 

For a long moment, the class just stared. 

Even Naphat was speechless. "What… what are you doing?" 

"You told me to kneel," Ploynapat said innocently. "My knees are down." 

"That's not—" 

Before the debate could continue, the door swung open. 

Mr. Thawat, their history teacher, stepped inside, his face unreadable. 

A hush fell over the room. 

Slowly, he set his books down on the desk and crossed his arms. 

"Go on," he said. 

The students blinked at him. 

"Continue talking," he said, voice eerily calm. "Talk until you're satisfied." 

A heavy silence settled over the classroom. 

Phurit, who had just resumed "consulting his ancestors," peeked up in alarm. Punnapa raised an eyebrow, already smelling the trap. 

Then, from the back of the room, a brave soul whispered, "Okay." 

And just like that— 

Chaos. 

Everyone began talking at once, voices overlapping in a glorious mess of nonsense. 

"Did you hear about—" 

"I swear my brother ate my—" 

"Ploynapat's knees—" 

"Why is the sun so—" 

Even Naphat, who was normally the voice of reason, joined in with fake enthusiasm. 

Ploynapat, still in her ridiculous kneeling position, raised her hand and said absolutely nothing, just to add to the madness. 

Mark and Beam started fake debating about whether a hotdog was a sandwich, while Phurit leaned back, rubbing his temples like a philosopher contemplating life. 

For exactly one minute and thirty-seven seconds, the students lived in glorious freedom. 

Then— 

"ENOUGH!" 

Mr. Thawat slammed his book onto the desk. 

Silence. 

Every student froze mid-sentence, mid-gesture, mid-laugh.

"Sit properly," he growled. 

Ploynapat adjusted her knees immediately. 

"Open your books." 

Pages flipped so fast it sounded like a small hurricane had swept through the room. 

And just like that, the rebellion was over. 

The moment the bell rang, the students rushed outside like prisoners escaping solitary confinement. 

The courtyard, however, was no relief. 

The sun glared down at them, its heat wrapping around their bodies like a vengeful spirit. 

Kamon, one of the loudest complainers in the school, groaned dramatically. 

"The sun is hotter than my future," she whined, fanning herself with a math notebook. 

Mark, standing beside her, wiped his forehead. "Same. If I had to choose between this heat and a math exam, I'd choose the exam." 

"That's a lie," Punnapa said, raising an eyebrow. 

Mark sighed. "Yeah, it is." 

By the time the afternoon lesson rolled around, exhaustion had taken its toll. 

Mr. Thawat, still recovering from the chaos earlier, stood at the front of the class, eyes scanning his students. 

"Alright," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Let's review. What is the main cause of the—" 

"Hmmmm." 

Mr. Thawat frowned. "Excuse me?" 

"MMMMMM." 

It started with just one or two students. 

Then the entire back row joined in. 

"HMMMMM." 

A low, united hum vibrated through the room, as if the students had fused into one single entity of pure mischief.

Mr. Thawat pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you—are you humming at me?" 

No answer. Just more "hmmmm." 

The backbenchers pretended to be deep in thought, stroking their imaginary beards, gazing at the ceiling as if unlocking the secrets of the universe. 

Ploynapat, ever the opportunist, leaned forward and whispered, "Sir, they're consulting Phurit's ancestors." 

That was the final straw. 

"ENOUGH!" Mr. Thawat bellowed. 

Silence. 

Then— 

Phurit, eyes half-lidded, voice as wise as an ancient oracle, muttered, 

"The ancestors say… the lesson is over." 

The class erupted into laughter.

Mr. Thawat walked out. 

When the final bell rang, marking the end of the school day, the students cheered.

As they packed their bags, Ploynapat sighed. "I think we won today." 

Kamon, still fanning herself, groaned. "Yeah, but at what cost? The sun fried my brain." 

Phurit sl

ung his bag over his shoulder. "Well, at least my ancestors were happy." 

Punnapa smirked. "Tell them I said hi." 

And with that, another legendary school day came to an end. 

Little did they know, tomorrow would bring a new war.