Chapter 9: Lost in Translation
⸻
Before the first class… before we got epically lost…
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, my back pressed against the wall, half a banana in my hand like it owed me rent for six months. The overhead fan spun lazily, stirring the thick, humid air like an overworked barista trying not to spill the milk.
Jan was sprawled across my bed like she owned the place, glitter still catching the faint light from the window. Maria sat with her legs tucked neatly under her, sipping tea with the kind of calm that made you question if she had any mortal worries. James… well, James was upside down for no reason at all, arms flailing like an acrobat auditioning for a silent circus. And Thomas? Thomas was Thomas, quietly reading, utterly oblivious to the chaos surrounding him.
I took a bite of the banana and dropped the bomb like it was casual gossip:
"Yo. What if y'all just crash at my place the night before school? We show up together. Squad-style. No one dies alone."
The room froze. A silent heartbeat.
Then—chaos.
Jan gasped, so violently I thought she'd dislocated a lung. She flung herself backward dramatically, limbs flailing like a Victorian lady overcome by the scent of violets and a century of repressed feelings.
"PACKING MONTAGE!!" James screamed, disappearing into his duffle bag with the enthusiasm of a raccoon on a vendetta.
Maria slowly lifted her gaze from her tea cup, her tone eerily calm, almost haunted:
"This is how cults begin."
And Thomas? He closed the book with deliberate slowness, nodded once, solemn, like I'd just fulfilled an ancient prophecy whispered under moonlight, Wi-Fi barely functional.
Jan's eyes narrowed, suspicion written all over her face. "Wait, your parents are okay with this?"
"Yeah," I said casually. "Told them yesterday."
What I didn't say: they agreed so fast I'm pretty sure they'd been plotting to get rid of me. Candles lit, prayers sent, maybe even a ritual circle. Spare keys practically thrown at me like confetti at a parade.
⸻
That night? Absolute disaster masterpiece.
Jan arrived hauling a suitcase that could have smuggled endangered species. James arrived with LED lights, determined to turn my bedroom into a low-budget Twitch set. Maria, dressed pristine as always, passed around tiny sachets of sleep tea like a Victorian apothecary—only to collapse mid-sip, teacup in hand, dead to the world. Thomas found the student handbook, sat cross-legged in the center of the room, and began reading aloud with slow, seductive precision, pausing at every comma as if it were a whispered incantation.
"I… must wear… a collared shirt… at all times…"
(Dramatic inhale)
"…including during extracurricular activities…"
Why it sounded erotic? No one knows. No one asked.
Our one rule: sleep by 10. Be sharp. Big first day.
3AM. Lights out never happened. Sacred pinky-promise? Shattered.
The night descended into chaos.
Hogwarts house debate became near warfare.
Jan swore on her mom's casserole dish she was a Gryffindor.
James claimed Hufflepuff, "but with murderous instincts."
Maria, arms crossed, declared Slytherin, "but the sexy kind."
Thomas whispered Ravenclaw like it was the secret code of some rebel society.
Someone (definitely me) asked
"Do possums… have belly buttons?"
From there, twelve contradictory search results, one conspiracy theory, and a terrifying deep dive into marsupial anatomy ensued.
Then Maria found a dusty book under my desk labeled Intro to Classical Languages.
We tried reading Latin. Fun became fear. Wind howled. Curtains flapped. Jan screamed. James swore he saw something blink in the closet.
"I think we just summoned a wind demon."
—Maria, casually sipping tea as if nothing were amiss.
Twelve long minutes of awkward silence followed. Then, heroically, someone farted. No one confessed. A lone cricket chirped outside, gave up, and left.
By 3AM, our dignity was gone. Brains melted. Only thing left shared trauma and an empty bag of chips.
⸻
Morning arrived suspiciously on time.
No alarms, no nudging—everyone woke together. Something in the air, an undefinable tension, like a teacher stopping mid-sentence and locking eyes with you. Uneasy. Paranoid. For no reason.
I was first to sit up. Hair wild, neck stiff from the floor. Thomas had drooled on my pillow—which I didn't even own.
Jan and Maria, naturally, took over the bed like queens of practicality.
Wrapped in a blanket burrito of existential doom, I stared at the ceiling like a war veteran. School. Again. After escaping it once. Somehow, I still had to go.
One by one, the squad emerged.
Jan yawned like a lioness rising from the savannah.
Maria blinked slowly, clearly offended by the concept of morning.
James popped up like toast from a toaster, declaring, "Today, I shall ascend!" before smacking his head on the low beam.
Thomas? Already reading the handbook like it was sacred scripture.
⸻
Bathroom chaos commenced.
Water splashed. Clothes flew. Someone screamed about toothpaste texture. I went second. Ten minutes later, damp hair, regret saturating my pores. I looked like I was ready for a funeral or a military draft.
School uniform did not help.
White Raj-pattern shirt (traditional Thai school shirt with high stiff collar), navy tie, shorts above the knee, long white socks, polished black shoes. I looked like a lost diplomat's son from a propaganda poster. Honor. Tradition. Mom sewed it while crying.
And somehow… iconic.
"I look like I'm about to get expelled for sneezing wrong," I muttered, adjusting cuffs.
Stepping out, full view of squad in uniform. Jan precise and crisp. Maria ballerina-like, every step intentional. James added dramatic flair, sleeves rolled. Thomas immaculate, reverent.
The room quieted. Then Jan and I shared one exhausted thought
We just finished a school year… and we're doing this again?
I picked up my satchel. Only thing to say
"Let's get this over with."
⸻
We were riding in Thomas's car—a strange, feral beast of polished metal, reflecting sunlight like it wanted to blind anyone who dared glance at it. Its windshield stood upright, stubborn, refusing to bow to the breeze. Fenders flared on either side, proud and aggressive. And the color… God, the red screamed at you like it had a vendetta. This wasn't just a car. It announced itself, daring the world to notice.
My fingers twitched the instant I saw the keys dangling from Thomas's hand. That look—pure, unfiltered mischief.
"I'll drive," I blurted, stepping forward with the kind of confidence only a cat pouncing on dangling yarn could pull off.
"Wait, I was gonna—" Thomas started, but it was too late.
Click.
VROOOOM—!
The engine roared awake, coughing once before growling low, deep, and threatening. Thomas froze mid-sentence, eyes wide, staring like someone had just stolen his funeral.
⸻
He threw me a side-eye loaded with doubt, like he was reassessing every life choice that had led him here.
"You… you do know how to drive, right?"
I smirked, "Of course. I could drive us straight to heaven if you want."
Blink. Blink. He seemed half convinced I was joking, half convinced I might actually be insane. Finally, a tiny sigh, and he collapsed into the passenger seat, clutching the map and letter like fragile life itself.
"Alright… it's all yours," he muttered, a resigned whisper that sounded suspiciously like surrender.
The old red beast purred beneath me, alive and impatient. Thomas kept one eye glued to the map, the other scanning the letter, barking directions like a frazzled GPS on overdrive.
Outside, the air was fresh and crisp—no dust, no smoke, just a teasing breeze that sent a shiver down my neck. We passed tiny shops with faded signs and cluttered windows. Cars zoomed by: some purred softly, others hacked and coughed like old men climbing stairs.
Inside, chaos reigned, but strangely, a calm settled over us. I glimpsed the rearview mirror: Maria, elbow propped on the window, half-napping in serene vacation-mode. Jan sat dead center, hands folded like a monk, a secretive smile tugging at her lips. And James—the eternal grump—kept sneaking glances outside, soaking in details as if committing every crack and cobble to memory.
⸻
Backseat chaos, however? Next level.
James squeezed into the left side, fingers nervously fidgeting with his collar, the other hand gripping the door like it might save him from impending doom. His body stiff, eyes flicking around like he suddenly remembered he forgot to update his will.
Maria flopped into the right corner, dramatic as ever, already drenched in sweat like she'd run a marathon. She yanked the school invitation from her bag, fanning herself frantically. "This is how I go," she whispered, foreboding every misfortune, "in a red coffin with wheels."
Jan, brave saint, claimed the middle seat. Knees gently nudging James and Maria, hands resting peacefully in her lap. Silent, poised—like she'd survived my last driving nightmare but wasn't sure she'd make it through this one.
"I can't believe this relic still works," James muttered, expecting the car to explode any second.
"It's not running," I (Ray) grinned, tightening my fingers around the cracked steering wheel. "It's alive."
The engine coughed and growled like an ancient dragon clearing its throat after centuries of slumber. Trees swayed as if nature itself was screaming, "Turn back, idiot!"
For a fleeting moment, all was calm. Gravel crunched under tires. Birds sang, and the morning light spilled through leaves, scattering dappled shadows across cracked signs and rusted fences.
⸻
But that fragile calm shattered when James dropped the bomb.
"We're late," he blurted, voice cracking like an old chair leg.
Late. Just like that.
I hadn't checked the time once since arriving. Morning, evening… all a blur. Turns out class started at 8:30. It was 8:40. Deep, uncharted panic set in.
Maria froze mid-fan, then smacked the envelope like swatting a ghost. "If we're late, we're dead," she said, voice that of a fortune teller peering into our graves.
Jan leaned forward, brows arched. "Dead how? Cane-to-the-butt dead?" She mimed a whipping motion for added drama.
(Note for readers: "cane" here refers to a long stick used for punishment, not for walking.)
James made a face like he'd bitten soap. "No… probably just yelled at in front of everyone."
"Not too bad," I said, attempting chill, though my grip tightened like a boa constrictor wrapping a branch.
Maria's eyes narrowed to knives. "Yeah… but then Mukda and her hyena pack will enjoy it."
"Mukda?" Jan and I chimed, awkwardly in sync.
Maria flicked her wrist, fanning harder, lips curling. "The girls from the party. They hate James and Thomas. Just… ugh."
That was my cue. Slammed my palm on the wheel—not anger, but a pact with chaos. "Seatbelts on, hands on something solid. Now." My voice was sharper than a cleaver slicing glass.
Thomas blinked at me like I'd asked him to juggle live chickens. "What—?"
"Just tell me the fastest route to school. Now," I snapped, leaning forward, chest heating like a starting gun had gone off.
Jan groaned, shaking her head. "Ohhh… it's happening…"
The others still looked lost—until I stomped the gas. The car leapt like struck by lightning.
Then I slammed down harder.
BRRRHHHMMM–VRRROOOAAARRR!
The car jolted. Tires screeched, rubber burned, the stench rising like a bomb.
Jan rocked calmly—clearly used to chaos. James and Maria? Total panic.
"You're crazy, you bastard!" James screamed, eyes wide.
"OMG, Lord save me!" Thomas panicked, voice cracking.
"I'm gonna die!" Maria wailed, clutching her bag like a lifebuoy.
We weren't driving. We were surviving.
James's scream could shatter glass.
"You said you could drive!" Thomas yelled, grabbing the dash.
"I LIED!" I laughed, edge-of-insanity style.
Tires screamed through every turn. The car shook violently. Maria's earring popped off and pinged under the seat.
⸻
"Jesus, I see the damn light!" James shrieked as branches slapped the windshield like we owed them rent.
"Tell my mom I loved her!" Maria screamed, clutching James's arm like she was about to orbit the Earth.
"Not her—me!" James yelled back. "Tell my mom I loved ME!"
The road twisted, bent, then disappeared. We tore through a creaky wooden gate, nearly knocked over a monk who looked ready to curse our souls, and flew over a fragile bridge, trembling beneath us.
Then—
SKREEEEEEEEEEEEECH!!
I whipped the wheel hard. The car slid sideways, slamming to a stop just inches from a shadowed, ominous forest.
Silence. Dead silence.
⸻
Smoke curled from the tires. Birds scattered. A squirrel perched on a rock, staring at us like we just crashed its exclusive party.
Maria coughed, her voice trembling between exhaustion and despair, "That's it. I'm done. Next life, I'm coming back as a fern."
At the fork, Thomas shouted, "Right! Right!" My hands yanked the wheel hard to the right, sliding perfectly in rhythm with the old beast. I had to admit — this rust bucket had guts.
"You're gonna kill us all!" James screamed, voice cracking like dry branches in a storm.
"Better to die together than be late!" I shot back, heart hammering, fingers tightening on the worn wheel.
James whipped out his pocket watch, gasping, "For heaven's sake! If we don't move, we'll miss the opening ceremony!" His eyes were wide, panicked, and shaking as if time itself was attacking him.
I slammed the gear and hit the gas — dirt and dust erupted around us like a sandstorm. Thomas started choking, face red, sputtering like he was trapped in the Sahara.
Approaching the next turn, I called again, "Right or left?"
"Right!" Thomas's voice quivered.
I yanked the wheel, drifted harder — SCREEEEEEEECHHHH! — tires screamed and the car vibrated, bouncing like popcorn in a hot pan.
Everyone screamed except Jan, who swayed calmly like the car was his personal rocking chair.
Then, out of nowhere, a voice bellowed, old and sharp, "You all trying to die or what?!"
I laughed, yelling back, "If we don't hurry, old man, we WILL die!"
The road was a disaster — every bump tossed us around. Thomas groaned at each rock. Maria clutched her bag like it was a lifeline, whispering threats to the universe.
The car drifted down a slope before screeching to a smoky stop in front of a clearing.
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
Birds chirped cautiously, leaves floated back to their branches, unwilling to disturb the tension. That same squirrel — the party judge — stared at us. Like, really stared. "What the hell, humans?"
We froze, trapped under the wildlife jury.
Thomas muttered, barely audible, "Is… is it finally over?"
James, voice rough but trying to laugh, said, "Did we… die? Are we ghosts now or something?"
I rolled my eyes, voice deadpan, "Nah, not me. You're the ghost, buddy."
James went full drama mode, eyes bulging, gasping like a toddler denied candy. "Wait, what?! I'm the ghost? Nooo, hell no!"
I lost it, laughing until my stomach ached. Maria groaned, worn out, "Please tell me that was your laugh, not some demon trying to haunt us."
Thomas smirked dryly, "You'll get used to it… or go insane trying."
We barely had time to settle before rolling to a stop at a creepy spot — just two vehicles, my battered car and a rusty bike that looked museum-ready. Not exactly VIP transportation.
Everyone spilled out, hair and clothes in chaos. Jan slumped, voice dripping sarcasm, "So, what now? You sure you know where we're going?"
Thomas went quiet, face twitching with unease, pulling out a crumpled map. "Alright, hoof it down this trail for thirty minutes, we'll get there."
Jan groaned, tired defeat in every syllable. "Man, we're royally screwed. Ten minutes late? Bad. Almost an hour? Apocalypse level."
I shook my head, lips pressed tight, giving the 'I give zero fucks' vibe. "At this point? Screw class. Honestly, I'm done pretending I care."
James gave a soft, supportive glance, voice calm but jittery. "It's okay. We got legit reasons, you know?"
Maria rolled her eyes, arms crossed, amused but annoyed. "Yeah, but someone's definitely laughing their asses off at us."
I smirked, voice low, half-joking, half-threatening, "Whoever's laughing? I'm about to give them something to gag on."
Maria blinked, confused. "Gag? What kind of weird magic is that supposed to be?"
Jan leaned forward, eyebrow raised, sarcasm thick in her voice, "Yeah, and what does that even look like? Are we driving a witchcraft-mobile?"
Maria smirked, already entertained. "Interesting… I kinda wanna see this 'holy basil tea' magic now."
Thomas finally cut in, voice sharp, eyes darting nervously, "Guys, can we just move? Or we're gonna be even later, like way worse."
⸻
Stepping out, the air changed. Not just cooler — heavier, oppressive, as if the sky itself leaned down.
Trees loomed crooked and tall, trunks twisted like ancient bones. The ground was uneven, leaves crunching under our shoes, damp earth tugging at our steps. Wind slipped through the branches, whispering like gossiping old women.
A faint smell lingered — damp soil and incense, the kind found in temples or funerals. It clung, stubborn and lingering.
Jan slowed, eyes flicking. "It's just a forest," she muttered, voice cracking, convincing herself.
James walked stiff, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, glancing behind like someone was tailing us.
Maria held her bag close, lips pressed tight, eyes scanning shadows.
Even Thomas adjusted his grip on the map, scanning as if one wrong turn could be fatal.
A bird cried once, sharply. Silence followed.
The path narrowed, choked with roots and fallen branches. Sunlight struggled through, creating gold and shadow patches. Shadows twisted, shapes human-like.
I forced a grin. "Alright," I said, voice too loud. "Let's go." Legs felt heavier with every step.
Deeper we went — quiet. No birds, no wind. Just footsteps and occasional snapping twigs — too loud in the stillness. The air thick, incense lingering.
Maria whispered, tense, "Why is it so quiet? Creepier than a closed carnival."
Jan smirked without looking. "Because we're in the creepy part, genius."
A leaf fell on Maria's shoulder; she froze, slapped it off, hissed, "Nature's not cute when it's this creepy."
Roots curled like fingers trying to trip us. Shadows stretched, moving when not observed.
Thomas muttered, "This should lead us straight through."
I teased, "Straight through to where? Heaven? Hell?"
Jan snorted. "With your driving earlier, we've already done half the trip to Hell."
A branch cracked.
We froze.
James's eyes widened. "That was not the wind."
Maria whispered, tense, "What if it's an animal?"
Jan grinned, playful but sharp, "What if it's a hungry animal?"
The silence was loud. Even my smile twitched.
We kept moving, feeling hunted, trees closing in.
⸻
I glanced at Thomas, hunched over the map like plotting treasure. "You sure about this?"
I snatched the envelope from Maria. We all leaned in, reading. Flipped it over — silence.
Thomas blinked cluelessly.
Jan shoved the letter into his hands. He scanned, then froze.
In my head: You didn't even check the front. It wasn't an invitation to school — it was about managing trees in an old cemetery. Dad's letter grabbed by mistake.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
⸻
Walking back, forest still humming — twigs cracking, leaves rustling, wind whispering secrets.
Suddenly: thump! beside Thomas.
James spun, screamed, "AHHH! Ghost?!" Eyes huge, ready to bolt.
It was a rabbit.
I rolled eyes. "Chill, dude! Stop screaming and scaring everyone!"
Then: something wrapped around my ankle — a massive snake.
I screamed, high-pitched, echoing through the forest.
James tried scolding, I lifted my leg, waved it at him. He jumped back, screaming, "OH FUCK NOOO!"
Everyone else scattered.
I yelled, "Oi! Come back, you cowards! Help me out, where's the 'friends never leave' crap now?!"
Friends sprinted away like Usain Bolt.
I muttered, stiff as a board, heart hammering. Thomas stomped toward the snake with a huge stick.
"Wait! Don't kill it!" I shouted, voice shaky.
James tried pulling the snake's tail, Jan teased, "Tickle it, dude!"
Thomas gulped, stepping forward slowly. Snake coiled, rough scales glinting. Twigs snapped, leaves rustled — shhhhhh.
Eek's and nervous laughter from the group. Snake's scales scraping — sssrrrt.
⸻
James finally yanked it off me. The snake whipped its tail — BAM! — smacked everyone.
Whap!
Time froze. Hearts skipped. Awkward silence. Then chaos: "Oof!", "Dude, seriously?!", "What the hell?!"
Maria rolled eyes, done. "That's my one and only snake encounter, okay? Don't drag me into this again."
Cold clung to the air. Birds silent. Wind whispering secrets.
Jan broke the silence, trembling, "Holy shit… forgot this is basically a graveyard."
We froze, extras in a horror flick. Twigs snapped — crack crack. Dry leaves rustled. Distant hoo hoo — maybe an owl, maybe not.
Vibe? Haunted movie. Hair standing, skin crawling.
Maria whispered to Thomas, "Check the map, get us outta this nightmare."
Thomas pulled out the 'map' — ancient, crumpled, with bizarre symbols and childish doodles, like a cursed treasure map.
"Uh… guys? This isn't the plan…"