Confessions and Rumors

The whispers and glances had become my new normal since the physical exam last week. Ever since then, I've noticed that the other students seem to think of me as some fragile, glass-like figure. Just yesterday in class, someone even joked about "protecting Reina" as if I couldn't manage my daily tasks on my own. My classmates would hover around me, trying to "assist" me while I was walking, sitting, even writing, all under the guise of playful protection.

At first, I tried to ignore it, but eventually, it grated on me. I looked up from my notebook, eyebrows furrowing, and snapped, "Would you stop it already?" My voice was sharper than I intended, but it did the trick—well, almost.

Some of my classmates exchanged glances, stifling giggles, before slowly retreating. They meant no harm, but I couldn't deny the irritation that flared up. I couldn't stand being seen as something fragile just because I'd done poorly on one fitness test. By the end of the day, though, the teasing faded, and things settled back to normal. I hoped it would stay that way.

The next day, as I made my way down the hallway to grab lunch, I noticed more stares than usual. Passing students would whisper behind cupped hands or cast me a glance filled with something like amazement. Perhaps it was curiosity—how could someone so intellectually strong be so physically weak? I walked on, trying to ignore the eyes on me, until I reached a quieter spot. There was some comfort in knowing they looked on with admiration rather than pity, and that thought eased me, if only a little.

A few days later, I began my usual morning routine, meticulously following the self-care regimen I'd been using since the break. After breakfast with my family, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed to school, prepared for another day of lessons and lab work.

Upon entering the lobby, I was focused on making it to my locker when suddenly, someone stepped into my path. I came to an abrupt stop, nearly stumbling in surprise as I looked up to see a boy standing directly in front of me. He looked determined, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes fixed on me with a kind of seriousness I wasn't used to.

"Uh…" I managed, feeling my brow furrow in confusion. "Can I help you?"

He didn't move or look away. His voice was earnest, and he seemed to steady himself before speaking. "Reina-san, I've… liked you for a long time," he said, his words rushing out. "Ever since before you became famous around the school… I think you're incredible, and I wanted to ask if you'd maybe want to… go out with me?"

My heart skipped a beat. No one had ever confessed to me before, and for a moment, I was at a complete loss. But then, an all-too-familiar sense of discomfort kicked in. Romance wasn't something I'd ever really thought about, and having it brought up so unexpectedly left me flustered and unsure of how to respond. I opened my mouth to speak, trying to find the right words.

"Thank you," I said, my voice low, "but… I'm not interested in dating."

I wanted it to sound gentle, but my natural tone came out clipped and cold, the words slicing the air between us. The boy's face fell just a little, but to my surprise, he didn't seem hurt or disappointed. Instead, he nodded, offering me a small, genuine smile.

"Thank you for being honest, Reina-san," he said with a slight bow. "I'm glad I could at least tell you."

With that, he turned and walked away, a hint of relief in his expression. I stood there, watching him go, feeling a mixture of awkwardness and relief. My heart was still pounding, and I felt heat rising to my cheeks. Had I handled that right? I wasn't sure, but at least he seemed to accept my answer without any hard feelings.

By the end of the day, word had already spread across the school about my "cold rejection." Rumors circulated faster than I could have imagined. Some people said I was entirely uninterested in romance, while others claimed that I had a heart of ice and wouldn't tolerate such feelings at all. It felt odd, knowing that so many people were now talking about a side of me they hardly knew.

I didn't care much for romance—it wasn't something I prioritized. But the assumptions everyone made felt almost unfair, as if one brief interaction defined who I was. My classmates watched me with new curiosity, as if they were trying to understand a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.

As the day wore on, I tried to ignore the sideways glances, retreating into my studies and my lab work. But just as I thought the rumors would blow over, I received a message from the office, asking me to see the principal after school.

I arrived at the principal's office with a sense of trepidation. Was she upset about the way I'd turned down the boy's confession? Did she think I'd handled it poorly and needed to be reprimanded? My mind raced with possibilities as I approached her desk.

"Come in, Reina," she said, her voice warm as ever. She gave me a welcoming smile as she motioned for me to sit down. I took a seat, unsure of what was about to happen.

"Thank you for coming," she began, her tone gentle. "I've heard about some of the things going on around you recently, and I wanted to check in to see how you're handling everything."

"Oh…" I managed, caught off guard by her kindness. "I'm doing alright. It's just… been a bit overwhelming, I suppose."

She nodded, a twinkle of understanding in her eyes. "High school can be intense," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I know that students sometimes go overboard with their curiosity, especially with someone as accomplished as you."

Her words were oddly reassuring, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. She wasn't here to scold me—she was simply concerned.

"I also wanted to offer you an option," she continued. "If you'd prefer, I could make an announcement to the students, asking them to respect your privacy. I want to make sure you feel comfortable here."

Her offer caught me by surprise, and I thought about it for a moment. While the constant attention was irritating, it wasn't unbearable. I appreciated her thoughtfulness, but I didn't want to make it seem like I couldn't handle the situation.

"Thank you, Principal," I replied, my tone respectful, "but I don't think that will be necessary. As long as things stay within limits, I'm alright with it."

She smiled approvingly, nodding. "Very well, Reina. But please know that my door is always open if you ever need anything."

There was a beat of silence, and then, to my surprise, the principal leaned forward slightly, an amused smile playing on her lips. "I did hear about the fitness test results," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. "And I have to say, your performance in the precision challenge was nothing short of impressive."

I couldn't help but smile a little. "Thank you. That part, at least, I could manage."

We chatted a bit more, her warm and understanding demeanor making me feel oddly at ease. For a moment, I forgot that she was my principal and not just someone I could talk to. It wasn't often I let my guard down, but her genuine interest in my well-being made it hard to remain closed off.

Leaving the principal's office, I felt lighter. Maybe things weren't as bad as I'd thought. The rumors and jokes were just part of the high school experience—nothing I couldn't handle. My thoughts drifted back to the boy in the lobby, and a small smile crossed my face. Perhaps I'd never fully understand these social interactions, but I could respect the bravery it took to put oneself out there, even if I couldn't reciprocate.

In the weeks that followed, the rumors and teasing eventually faded, replaced by the usual whispers of admiration for my work. Some of my classmates still joked about my "weakness," but I noticed a different tone—a lighthearted, almost affectionate kind. It wasn't out of malice or mockery but rather a form of acceptance. They knew I wasn't perfect, and maybe that made me feel just a little more… human.

For the first time, I realized that perhaps my weaknesses didn't detract from who I was. Instead, they gave me room to grow, to connect with others in ways I hadn't expected. And as I returned to my lab, I felt a quiet determination—a resolve to continue exploring not just the vast universe beyond, but the intricate, unfamiliar world right here on Earth.