Luna

Two weeks had passed since the start of school, but the feeling of discomfort hadn’t faded. The hallways of Canterlot High had become a familiar maze, but the laughter, tight-knit groups, and curious stares still made me feel out of place.

That morning, the buzz was louder than usual. Students were chatting excitedly with each other, and I noticed many of them holding flyers. It was club sign-up day, and it was clear that everyone already knew what to do.

I, on the other hand, had no idea where I belonged.

During the break, the gym had been transformed into a big club fair. Tables decorated with posters, props, and live demonstrations lined the perimeter of the room, while students eagerly moved from one booth to the next.

I stopped near the door, gripping the straps of my backpack. I didn’t know where to go or what to look for.

“Hey, Luna!”

I turned and saw Celestia. She was standing by the fashion club table, surrounded by girls who seemed to hang on her every word. She wore a perfect outfit—a pleated skirt and a blouse with a black bow—and looked as at ease as ever.

“Have you decided yet?” she asked with a smile.

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

“Well, there’s plenty to choose from. But make sure you sign up for something. You don’t want to seem…” She paused, tilting her head. Then she laughed. “Well, you know what I mean.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

I moved slowly between the tables, trying to ignore the chaos around me. The volleyball club had a line of enthusiastic students passing a ball back and forth in a corner of the gym. Their energy was contagious, but I knew it wasn’t for me.

Further down, a boy was showing a motocross club video on a tablet. The clips of dirt bikes speeding through muddy tracks were impressive, but the thought of being in the middle of that made me feel out of place.

When I passed the archery club’s table, I stopped for a moment. There was something fascinating about the precision and focus required to shoot an arrow. But I quickly shook my head. Who was I kidding? I’d never have the courage to put myself out there.

The art club, on the other hand, had a calmer vibe. A girl was painting a landscape on a canvas set on an easel, and the colors seemed to come to life under her brushstrokes. For a moment, I was tempted to stop. But then I looked at my wrinkled jeans and empty hands, and I felt out of place there too.

Finally, I found myself in front of a less crowded table, where a sign read: Reading and Writing Club – Giving Hidden Stories a Voice. There was an open notebook and a stack of books on the table.

A girl with glasses smiled at me as I approached. “Do you like reading?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Perfect! We meet every Friday after school. We write, read together, and talk about our favorite books.” She handed me a sign-up form. “You can also try it for a week to see if you like it.”

I took the form and tucked it into my backpack, promising myself I’d think about it.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the theater club’s table, unsure how I had ended up there. The dark-haired boy running the booth waved me over, and for a moment, I felt the urge to run away.

“Hey! Interested in theater?” he asked enthusiastically.

“Me? I don’t know…”

“We do a ton of fun things! Acting, scriptwriting, and sometimes we put on huge productions. It’s perfect for anyone who wants to try something new.”

I glanced around, searching for an excuse to leave. But something held me back. Maybe stepping out of my comfort zone could be good, I thought.

What if I tried? I wondered. What if it went badly?

The idea of being the center of attention, with everyone watching me, paralyzed me. But there was a small voice inside me that kept insisting: What if it went well?

“Can I think about it?” I finally asked.

“Of course! Come to the rehearsal on Monday to see what it’s like.”

I nodded and walked away, feeling uncertain. I now had two options in front of me: the reading and writing club, which felt like a safe haven, and the theater club, which scared me—but in an intriguing way.

After dinner, I found myself in the living room, where my dad was reading a book and my mom was fluffing the couch cushions. They were so different from me, always active and busy, always with something to do.

“So, Luna,” my mom said, turning to me. “Have you decided which club to join?”

“Not yet,” I replied, clutching the form I’d brought home from the fair.

My mom raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it would be better to pick something… useful? Something that might help you become more social? Maybe a sports club?”

I grimaced. The thought alone made me want to disappear.

“Sports could be good for you,” she continued. “Look at your sister: volleyball helped her tone her body and feel confident. Wouldn’t you like to be a bit more… energetic? A bit more like her?”

Her words hit me like a slap, but I tried not to show it. I just shrugged, lowering my gaze to the club form.
Celestia, sitting on the couch with her phone in hand, looked up. “Mom, let Luna choose. Not everyone has to do the same things.”
My mom turned to her. “I’m not saying she has to do exactly what you do. But, Celestia, you have to admit that sports gave you a discipline and presence that… well, not everyone has naturally.”

Celestia sighed. “Mom, stop it.”

I didn’t know whether to thank Celestia or feel even more embarrassed that she’d defended me.

My dad, who had been silent until then, closed his book and smiled at me. “Whatever you choose, Luna, make sure it’s something you enjoy. There’s no point in committing to something that doesn’t make you happy.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said softly, though I still felt a weight inside me.

My mom didn’t look convinced. She simply shook her head and went back to fixing the cushions.

I retreated to my room shortly after, closing the door behind me. My room was my world, the only place where I truly felt comfortable. The walls were covered in posters of bands and quotes from my favorite books.

I sat on my bed and opened the reading club form, rereading its description: “Giving Hidden Stories a Voice.” Those words struck me every time. It felt like it could be the right place for me, but there was also something about the theater club that pulled at me.

I placed the form on my nightstand and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My mom’s words echoed in my mind: “Choose something useful.” But what did “useful” even mean?

That night, as I tried to sleep, my mind wandered. I wondered if I’d ever find my place, like Celestia had. But a small part of me, however faint, started to think that maybe I didn’t need to be like her.

Maybe I could just be myself.

With that uncertain thought, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me away.