"Hello, ma' am."
A big guy in a workshop uniform the same color as the sweet vendor's outfit raised his large hands in a polite wai. The tiny woman selling desserts returned the gesture in confusion.
Before she could even ask what was going on, a familiar face one she vaguely remembered giving birth to pushed through the two bulky bodies. His neck shrank as he lowered his head, trying to avoid his mother's eyes. But how could he possibly escape the sharp gaze of his beloved mom?
"What the hell happened to your face, Lith?!"
Was that her voice or a loudspeaker? It boomed so loudly his face seemed to shake and his hair almost flew back. Seeing the swollen bumps and bruises on her son's face, she rushed in and grabbed his cheeks.
When his mother touched him, the smaller body jolted only then did he realize just how sore he was all over. The moment he saw her, he suddenly felt like whining.
Those hooligans had tossed him around without holding back. Good thing he didn't fall, or he would've been stomped into the ground he might not even have been able to walk home.
"It was those vocational school kids near the market, Mom. They just showed up and surrounded us, picking a fight. Luckily my friends from university were with me Tawan and Mok."
Auntie Tim, the gentle-looking vendor, turned bright red. Her fists clenched, her body shaking with rage so much that Lith had to quickly switch to his soft, pitiful voice, trying to win her sympathy.
His mother hated violence. She never wanted her son to be a tough guy. She preferred that he stay gentle and soft, unlike his father who wanted him to fight back and even once suggested boxing lessons—but Lith didn't like it, so he never went.
Normally, his mom wasn't fierce she'd scold only when necessary. But today her face looked terrible as she stared at the bruised face of her precious son. The eyebrows she'd once shaped to look like a celestial dancer's suddenly furrowed, transforming her into a full-blown demoness straight out of Phra Aphai Mani as if she'd crossed dimensions.
"LITH!!"
…And that was when the market exploded. She scolded him nonstop loud, messy, right in front of his friends. She didn't yell at his friends even once.
So embarrassing with people walking past.
After she finished scolding him, she ordered him to help pack up the stall. Beaten up by a gang, and still had to help carry sweets home.
What a tragic life son of a notorious tough mom.
Auntie Tim kept grumbling at her son, but she also kept sneaking glances at his friends. She scolded him, yet still packed sweets into bags for his friends to take home. She even called them a taxi, afraid they might run into those crazy kids again on the way.
The next morning
We went to class like usual no one was missing.
Tawan was still the same handsome guy as always, except now his face had a red mark that looked suspiciously like a killer slap print that definitely wasn't there yesterday.
As for Mok, he had gauze taped to his head, standing there with the same deadpan face like he hadn't been beaten at all though a small patch of hair was missing. Looks like he'd gotten stitches.
And me? My head wasn't cracked open, but my face was swollen as hell like I'd gone overboard with facial fillers.
The news about the fight with our rivals spread like wildfire, but the aftermath wasn't cool or cinematic at all nothing like in movies or dramas where you only get a tiny cut at the corner of your mouth or eyebrow.
This was real life, not actors fists, kicks, knees, elbows, even dirty tricks.
…Surviving this was already a blessing.
Honestly, I wanted to scream in their faces, rip off my workshop uniform, pull out my bra and shove it over their mouths and noses but looking at myself after class, I wouldn't be hot or fierce enough for them to even feel intimidated. They threw punches nonstop, didn't care if I was short or skinny.
Guess they really believed in gender equalityqueer, top, bottom, whatever everyone got kicked with no mercy. Truth is, I'm fast. I swear I could've run away this is my territory after all.
But since I'm basically the heroine, I had to be brave and end up eating dirt alongside my friends like we made some heroic pact.
Maybe it'd help with our assignment or something…
My face might've been wrecked, but when we walked into campus, we still looked cool as hell.
People whispered as I the short one walked in front, with the two human lampposts flanking me on both sides.
Felt epic, like we'd just saved the nation even though I was limping. Turns out… I didn't get beaten up. I just fell down the stairs.
Damn, I suck. Why did I have to be born short?
Missed a step, face planted good thing my skull didn't crack open.
"Look, look! In that clip the homeowner posted twelve people against three. That's insane! First-year students and already this hardcore. Respect."
"The short one walking in front? Heard he already met the department head on the first day about the fight."
"He acts all cutesy, but he's kinda scary too, huh?"
"People are talking about us everywhere," Tawan said, looking more exhausted than usual—even though he's normally the cheerful, playful type.
That slap mark on his left cheek was probably why he'd gone quiet.
Mok, on the other hand, was still the same annoyingly calm.
"Stuff that happens outside campus, they probably won't interfere," Mok said. "At worst, they'll just call us in for a warning. Scholarship students always get both privileges and pressure three warnings and you're out."
My friends looked so serious, like they were really stepping into adulthood. But me? I'd rather sit by the window and check out the guys from the other faculty first damn, they're fine.
Of course, everyone worries about their future. I do too. I'm praying I get a rich husband soon so I can live comfortably…
You need goals in life something to charge at headfirst! But before charging at anything else, can I punch that short girl laughing at my swollen face first?