Kamiya's World

Art by Henn Kim

 Kamiya is the weirdest person I have ever met. Or so I thought, until last night.

People always said she had no brain but owned two hearts. And the weirdest was when she would nod to it. I mean, who does that? Or did she really not have a brain?

"How is that even possible?" I'd always think.

Kamiya could never solve math or understand formulas. She had a different sense of style and had her nose up in the air all the time. Her thick black hair would be plaited in three chunks, plaited again into one huge braid. Unlike the other kids' in class, her shoes never looked glossy. They were cruddy and almost torn. Her face spotted a fresh zit every day and the oil on her skin was enough to cook a pan of stir fried vegetables. When the entire class talked about black widow and thanos and loki, Kamiya would spread out a large sheet of paper and draw lines of spiders and ants. Most certainly weird, right?

The whole school knew of Kamiya's lack of a brain, or even severe lack of friends. She walked alone, wrote alone, ate alone, and went home alone. And we carried on like everyone else around - laughing, flying paper planes, doing homework and bullying the ones we liked less.

But yesterday was different. Kamiya walked into class with the air of a "normal" teenager. She had her hair tied up into a neat pony, her face carefully scrubbed and concealed, and her shoes, sparkling. I was surprised, as was the entire school.

"Maybe we should give her a seat." Obnoxious Mindy declared to her clique.

"Maybe we should let her monitor the class today." Petty Raoul whispered loud.

The whole class was abuzz with discussions about what had to be done with the new Kamiya. But of all things, her usually light backpack, which looked astonishingly hefty this day, went unnoticed among all the frenzy.

It was almost time for me to leave when it happened. The class had dispersed for the day and I, as was the custom of prefects in school, stood back to ensure the classroom was ready for the next day. Being the last one to always leave, the presence of a classmate bothered me, and that being Kamiya concerned me even more.

"Don't you have a home to get to?" I asked in all seriousness.

To which she stood up, walked over to the black board and said, "No, my home is in that backpack,"  pointing to the black bag resting on the third bench.

A sudden silence.

I was not sure if calling her crazy would have been a good idea, so I pretended to care. And asked, "Well then, why don't you show me your home?"

It seemed like she had been waiting all day to hear it from someone. The eagerness in her eyes to pull those zippers apart and show her home to the rest of the world was evident.

In no time, I was with her, in her world. There, everything shone bright. There, the galaxies lay around like cornflake stubs at home, planets revolved on tables, and stars adorned her now frizzy hair. I saw her smile like I'd never seen before, her happiness exuding a certain magic.

Gulping my surprise, I asked her, "Is this why your bag seemed unusually heavy today, Kamiya?"

With a sudden giggle she replied, "Yes, silly! I carry an entire universe on my shoulders!"

And for a second, I felt nowhere near proud for having been the reason a pimpled girl had to peel off a universe in whole from her skin and store it within the secrecy of a backpack.

Kamiya was happy in her universe, and I, in mine. I realised we could co-exist without fear or dismay if I just let her be, the way she let me be. And so today, when she walked into class in her old muddied shoes, Kamiya shone bright, the way she did last night at her home.