Banana Pancakes

Welcome back (Part 2)

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Part 2

Welcome back

When we were nine, Kongpob and I decided to run away.

Exactly why that was is still a mystery to this day. But, we had both wanted freedom so desperately that we just had to do it or we would simply die. We had discussed the issue thoroughly and decided to do it the last day of winter break. One, because we didn't want to go back to school the next day and two, simplicity is at its best in the minds of nine-year-olds. So, we pooled all the money we had together for the bus fare that took us out of Bangkok. Once out of the city, we would do whatever we wanted – living as we pleased without any adults to tell us yes or no, do or don't, can or can't.

That was the plan. A perfect plan; a poorly executed plan. But it was still a plan.

Our trip took only three detours to shatter our dreams of being "independent", I still remember. First, finding our new found freedom absolutely irresistible, we decided to spend a portion of our money buying five different types of ice cream to eat for lunch. We both came from families where every aspect of our lives was regulated. From the clothes we wore to what we watched on TV to what we put in our mouths, Kongpob and I were not allowed to make even those simple decisions on our own. So when we suddenly had "independence" at our mercy, we ate so much ice cream that Kongpob had to go to the bathroom almost every ten minutes for an hour or so after. I was so scared, thinking that he was going crap so much he would eventually die and I would be blamed for killing him since I was the one who bought us the ice creams.

But thank god Kongpob didn't die from diarrhea because that would've been where my story ended. Instead, when Kongpob felt better after trip number six trip to the bathroom, I insisted we stop by a mall because I wanted to look at the magazines. I was a magazine addict even at the age of nine. Don't get me wrong, I was and am not a brand addict; I just naturally gravitated toward fashion magazines simply because. It's indescribable; it's like asking alcoholics why they're addicted to alcohol. So there I was, flipping through the latest issue of the local issue of Pose, when I looked up to see that Kongpob wasn't waiting for me like he had promised. Within ten minutes of entering the mall, we had already lost each other. 

Three hours later, Kongpob and I finally found each other at the Hello Kitty store where he knew I would be and where I knew he would look for me.

But, what really killed and dismantle our plan was when we were walking out of the mall and Kongpob realized he had dropped his money. He turned around to find a blonde-haired boy around our age picking up the money. Kongpob had smiled brightly, outstretched his hand and said, "Thanks." But, the boy didn't give him back his money, claiming, "finder's keepers." The next thing I knew Kongpob had lunged at him and fists were flying. Even as a nine-year-old, Kongpob didn't take shit from no one. It was his first fight and through a massive nosebleed, Kongpob managed to beat the other guy into a pulp. It never took much for Kongpob to punch someone; it was in his blood.

So needless to say, the mall security called the police and we were taken into the station as two "lost" children. Kongpob's father was called; my parents were also called. Just like that our independence was taken away only after a couple of hours. The sad thing is, no one even knew we were missing until the police called.

To cut a story short; we realized it was a bad idea and never tried to run away again.

Instead, the older we became, the more sophisticated our antics got.

Thinking back to how we were when we were kids, not much has changed about our personalities. Kongpob bloomed into a social butterfly, although he would kill me if he ever heard me call him that. He doesn't like people talking shit about anyone behind their backs; his motto is, "if you have something to say, say it to my face" ...and then, "wanna fight?" Kongpob is easy-going, laid-back, and extremely confident. This particular personality trait of his gets him a lot of attention from the girls at school, but has caused some animosity with his fellow male peers. If I had a dollar for every time I would walk down the hall hearing girls swoon over Kongpob and babble about how "hot" he was, I'd probably be able to buy 10 latest Gucci bags and perhaps their most expensive jacket as well.

Contrary to Kongpob and what other people perceive of me, I am nothing like a social caterpillar. I find it hard to approach people because I know they are thinking of the Arthit Rojnapat, the rising model; the one who must have an attitude problem, the conceited one because of his special eyes, the one who thinks he's better than anyone else in this school because he's going to graduate high school and not have to worry about finding a job. All Arthit Rojnapat has to do is to keep his face clean and body in shape. After all, isn't that what a model is only supposed to do?

Truth is, plain and simple, I am none of those things; yet, it is hard to explain yourself to people who have already formed an opinion about who you are due to the mage of how models behave, the pictures you've taken and what has been written about you in the papers (often times, lied about you).

That is why it is no surprise that as soon as I entered my first period class, history, all eyes were on me as if expecting some kind of a show. Rows upon on rows of seats, occupied with its inhabitants, seemingly shifted. Eyes, more than I could count, were glued on me. It was one thing to be late going into class; it is quite another to be Arthit Rojnapat walking into a class late.

I quickly ducked my head and walked to the very back of the room to an available seat.

"Since it is the first day back, I'll let it go, Arthit. Next time, you won't be so lucky." Ms. Luu looked at me through her black-rimmed glasses. She stood at the front of the room, on the podium, watching me with a stern look.

"Yes Miss." I bowed my head slightly, respectfully, as I slipped into my seat. Placing my backbag on the desk, I started withdrawing a pen and my notebook when Ms. Luu turned back to the board and continued writing notes for us to copy.

I was on the second line, copying down notes, when footsteps approached the open classroom door. A moment of hesitation could be heard. Then, looking a little lost, a girl poked her head inside.

"Yes?" Ms. Luu turned away from her board, looking at the new presence in the room. "Can I help you?"

Slowly, the girl walked into the room holding a white piece of paper as she bowed. "I'm a new student. I'm sorry for coming in so late. I had a hard time finding the class."

As if on cue, the whole classroom broke out into murmurs as curious looks were exchanged. To say she was pretty was an understatement; she had long, deep black silky hair that flowed around her pale oval face all the way down to her slender shoulders. She was tall – a little taller than me even. Her every gesture and stature seemed effortless as she moved; she gave off the sense of something new, something excited, but should not be underestimated.

"May Parinya," Ms. Luu read her name aloud. "Very well. Why don't you take an available seat? Let's see...Oh, there's one available beside Arthit in the back."

May Parinya nodded, bowing on more time. "Yes, Miss."

I went back to writing my notes when Ms. Luu released her. I could almost sense May staring cautiously at the empty seat next to me as she made her way down the rows.

Like wildfire, whispers erupted.

"Omg–– "
"She's going to sit next to Arthit!"
"She's SO lucky!"
"I wonder how Arthit's going to react!"