A Lonely Child Of Space

The Space Girl

I never meant to stand out, but somehow, I did. Every day I'd try to keep my head down, sit quietly, and just do my work. But even if I didn't talk much, people still noticed me. Maybe it was because I was different. Or maybe because of the way I acted around everyone—quiet, polite, but distant. It was easier that way. The fewer questions, the better.

Still, rumors spread. Kids would point at me, whispering behind my back, calling me names. "Space Girl," they'd say, or "Ice Princess." I guess I couldn't blame them; I wasn't exactly friendly, and I'd rather talk about stars and planets than gossip or silly games. But hearing it every day was annoying.

One afternoon, our science teacher, Mrs. Kobayashi, handed back our quizzes. I watched as she placed mine on my desk. At the top, I saw the usual red ink, marking a perfect score.

"Nice work, Reina," she said with a small smile.

I nodded, not really sure what to say. She moved on, but I could feel other kids watching me, a few of them whispering.

"Of course she got a perfect score," someone muttered from the row behind me. "She's like a robot or something."

Another kid snickered. "Space Girl probably just calculates all the answers like she's a computer."

I kept my face blank, acting like I didn't hear them. It wasn't worth reacting. They'd get bored eventually.

During break, I was sitting alone in the schoolyard, flipping through my astronomy notes, when two girls approached. I recognized them—Ayumi and Hana. They were friends, always hanging out together, and popular with everyone.

"Hi, Reina," Ayumi said, giving me a bright smile. "Do you mind if we sit here?"

I shrugged. "Do what you want."

They sat down, looking at each other as if they had some kind of secret. I pretended not to notice, focusing on my notes.

"So," Hana began, leaning closer, "everyone says you know everything about space."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing up at them. "I don't know everything," I replied honestly. "But I know a lot."

Ayumi laughed, as if I'd made a joke. "That's so cool! I bet you could teach the teacher something."

I shrugged again. "Maybe." It wasn't meant to be rude; it was just the truth. But I could see them exchange glances.

"See?" Hana said, nudging Ayumi. "She really is an Ice Princess. So serious!"

I didn't react, going back to my notes. If that's what they wanted to think, I couldn't stop them. I wasn't trying to be cold. I just didn't see the point in small talk.

In class, things weren't much different. Whenever we had science lessons, Mr. Tanaka, our homeroom teacher, would sometimes call on me for answers. And every time, I'd give the most honest, direct answer I could think of.

Today, we were learning about the phases of the moon, and Mr. Tanaka asked, "Can anyone explain why we see different phases of the moon?"

No one raised their hand. I could see him glance my way, so I raised mine, reluctantly.

"Reina?" he called.

I stood up, feeling everyone's eyes on me. "The moon doesn't produce its own light. We see different phases because of the way sunlight hits it as it orbits the Earth," I said. "It's just a reflection."

Mr. Tanaka nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Thank you, Reina."

I sat down, ignoring the whispers that started up around me. "See? Space Girl knows it all," someone said, not even trying to be quiet.

I clenched my fists under the desk, telling myself to ignore it. They could call me whatever they wanted. I didn't care.

After class, one of the boys in my grade, Kaito, walked up to me as I was leaving the classroom. He was one of those kids who seemed to get along with everyone—funny, easygoing, and always surrounded by friends.

"Hey, Reina," he said, falling into step beside me. "Do you, like, ever get tired of being so... serious?"

I blinked, a little taken aback. "I'm just being myself," I answered, trying not to sound defensive.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, but you're so... I dunno, intense. You're like this little genius robot."

I felt my face flush, but I kept my expression calm. "If that's what people want to think, that's fine. I'm just studying things that matter to me."

Kaito's expression softened a bit, as if he hadn't expected that response. "I get that. Just... maybe you could try to relax sometimes? People might, you know, like you more."

"I'm not here to be liked," I replied bluntly, surprising even myself with how harsh it sounded. I added quickly, "I mean, I don't mind being alone."

He looked at me for a moment, then just shrugged. "Alright, Space Girl. Whatever you say." He walked off, hands in his pockets, leaving me standing there.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I went to my usual spot in the school library, escaping into the silence, into my books. This was where I felt most comfortable—just me and the knowledge that kept me company.

I opened a book on the Andromeda galaxy, reading about its size, its structure, the way it was slowly moving toward our own galaxy. It was peaceful, learning about something so vast, so far beyond human life and all its noise.

But even here, I couldn't completely escape the rumors. In the hallway outside the library, I heard voices. "Yeah, I heard she barely talks to anyone." "I think she's just rude." "More like a robot than a person."

I closed my book, sighing. Sometimes, I wished I could just disappear into space, where no one would notice or bother me.

On my way home, I replayed the day's conversations in my head. Maybe Kaito was right; maybe people would like me more if I just... tried to be more like them. But what would that change? I'd be faking it, pretending to care about things I didn't. That wasn't me.

As I walked, I looked up at the sky. It was still light out, but soon, the stars would appear, each one a reminder that there was a bigger world out there, something beyond all this. And someday, I'd be out there too.

Until then, I'd just have to put up with the whispers, the nicknames, and the stares. Because in the end, I didn't belong here—not really. My place was out there, in the vastness of space, where I wouldn't have to be anything but myself.