A boy named Mikey sat at his desk with his chin resting in his palm, eyes unfocused as they drifted past the glass of the classroom window. Outside, the sky was bright and cloudless, the kind of blue that made everything feel far away and unreal. A breeze moved the trees just enough to make them sway, and Mikey imagined what it would be like to be anywhere but here, walking somewhere new, seeing something unfamiliar, not being surrounded by the same walls and the same people every single day.
In his head, life was quieter. Simpler. Better when it was just him.
He liked being alone. Or at least, that's what he told himself. There was peace in it, no expectations, no awkward conversations, no pressure to be someone he wasn't. Alone meant safe. Alone meant predictable. And predictable was comfortable.
The teacher's voice droned on in the background, words floating through the room without landing anywhere meaningful in Mikey's mind. Desks scraped softly against the floor as students shifted. Someone laughed under their breath. Someone else passed a folded note. Mikey didn't look. He never did.
Then, suddenly, one sentence cut through the fog in his head.
"-your summer assignment."
Mikey's attention snapped back like a rubber band.
The teacher adjusted her glasses and held up a sheet of paper. "Over summer break, you'll be writing about what you did, and where you went, what you learned, and what mattered to you. This will be due the first week back."
A few kids groaned. Others whispered excitedly. Mikey stared at the paper as it was passed down his row and placed onto his desk.
What I did this summer, he thought.
He already knew the answer.
Playing games. Sleeping. Existing.
His idea of a good time.
The final bell rang not long after, and chairs scraped loudly as students rushed to pack up. Mikey folded the assignment paper once and slid it into his backpack without really looking at it again. Summer was almost here, and nothing was going to change.
As he walked home, the sidewalks buzzed with energy. Groups of kids clustered together, laughing too loudly, bumping into each other, talking over one another about plans, trips, parties. Mikey passed by a group of popular kids from his school kids who seemed to glow with confidence, like life just naturally worked out for them.
He slowed for half a second, watching them joke and shove each other playfully.
It must be nice, he thought.
Then he kept walking.
By the time he reached home, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, bathing the house in a warm orange light. He stepped inside and dropped his backpack by the door.
"Hey, Mikey," his mom called from the kitchen. "How was your day?"
"Fine," he said automatically.
He didn't stop walking.
He headed upstairs, footsteps light and quick, already retreating into himself. Behind him, his mom stood at the counter holding a dish towel, watching the empty stairwell.
"Oh," she muttered quietly.
She tossed the towel onto the counter with a small huff of frustration not angry, just tired. She wanted to talk to him. She always did. But Mikey never stayed long enough to let that happen.
Upstairs, Mikey pushed open his bedroom door and flopped into his chair with a sigh of relief.
"Finally," he muttered. "Peace."
His room was exactly the way he liked it dim, quiet, familiar. Posters on the walls. A console humming softly beneath his TV. His desk cluttered with controllers, wrappers, and half-finished thoughts.
He pulled the assignment paper from his bag and stared at it.
Write about your summer.
"I'll take the failing grade," he said aloud.
He crumpled the paper into a tight ball and tossed it behind his bed, where it landed among other forgotten trash. Then he turned back to his screen, booted up his game, and let the world disappear.
Hours passed.
The sky darkened outside his window as Mikey played, fingers moving automatically, muscle memory doing most of the work. He kept winning. Over and over again. You'd think that would feel good, but it didn't.
When you play as much as he did, you get good. That was just natural. And when you're good, things stop being challenging.
And when things stop being challenging… they stop being fun.
Mikey leaned back in his chair, annoyed, staring at the victory screen like it had personally disappointed him.
"This is boring," he muttered.
After a moment, he grabbed his phone and checked his balance. He sighed, then nodded to himself.
New game. New scenery.
The next day, he walked to the game store, hands shoved into his pockets. The store smelled like plastic cases and carpet cleaner. He wandered the aisles slowly, scanning covers, reading descriptions without really absorbing them.
After a while, he picked one. It looked different enough.
At the counter, the clerk smiled. "That one's pretty good, especially if you play it with friends."
"Yeah," Mikey replied.
He didn't really hear what the clerk said. He took the bag and left.
On his way home, he passed more people friend groups sprawled on sidewalks, couples laughing, kids arguing over nothing and everything. Different people. Different humor. Different lives.
It must be nice, he thought again.
He had chances. He knew that. People talked to him sometimes. Tried. But he never knew how to respond. He assumed making friends came naturally to others, like breathing. For him, it felt like trying to speak a language everyone else already knew.
So he avoided it.
Without realizing it, he rejected connection before it could reject him.
He stopped at the store for snacks and drinks, chips, ..soda, things to last the night. As he checked out and walked back home, his thoughts spiraled.
Everyone looks like they belong somewhere, he thought. Like they fit into something.
He kicked a pebble down the sidewalk.
Maybe that's just not me.
By the time he reached his house again, his conclusion felt solid.
"That's because I'm a loner," he whispered to himself. "Inside and out. Whether I want to accept that or not."
Back in his room, Mikey set up the new game and dove in. Time slipped by again. The clock crept past midnight.
He reached for a chip, crunching down hard-
THUD.
Mikey froze.
He chewed slowly.
"…Was that my bite," he muttered, "or something else?"
He stood up and walked to his window.
In the large field near his house, flames flickered against the darkness.
"What the…?"
Curiosity pulled him outside before fear could catch up. By the time he reached the field, the fire had died down, revealing something metallic embedded in the ground.
A pod.
It looked like something straight out of a movie.
No way, Mikey thought. That can't be-
The doors hissed open, steam pouring out. A figure stood inside the fog pale skin, green hair, almost human… almost not.
The figure stirred.
"Have I made it?" it said.
Mikey's jaw dropped.
"I'm so hungry," the figure added, in a language Mikey didn't understand.
That was enough.
Mikey screamed and promptly passed out.
"Oh no," the alien said, panicking. "Oh no no no, uhh."
He sniffed the air, tracked Mikey's scent, and carried him home.
Inside, a small girl shuffled past, half asleep. The alien froze.
She blinked at him, then continued to the bathroom.
The alien sighed in relief.
He placed Mikey on his bed, stared at the snacks, and ate everything.
An hour later, Mikey woke up.
"…That wasn't a dream."
"AHH!?"
"What are you doing in my house?!"
"I'm not here to hurt you," the alien boy said quickly. "I was sent here as a vacationer."
"Vacationer?"
"Yes. Every ten years, during summer, my planet sends one of my people here to Earth."
"So you're like an alien or something?
"Yeah something like that." The alien boy added. "..Anyways, I need you're help, since I've never been to Earth before I was hoping you could help me experience life on Earth."
"Why pick me for this, Vacation of yours." Mikey says in air quotes.
"You were the first person I saw, and I'm not the best at talking to new people." The alien boy said.
"You're talking to me just fine."
"You're not a stranger."
"You don't even know my name."
"What is it?"
"…Mikey."
"Nice to meet you, Mikey. I'm Spence."
"…Nice to meet you too."
"So," Spence said brightly, standing up, "are you going to help me or not?"
"…Friends?"
"Sure," Mikey said quietly. "I have nothing else to do."
"Yes! Let's go!"
"Why are you so happy?"
"Because I made a new friend. I don't have many."
He smiled.
"Let our friendship be a good one, Mikey."
Spence chuckled.
"Hold on a minute how can you understand me?" Mikey asked.
The alien boy said. "Oh, well that's because I know every language."
"Every language??"
"Yeah, my people before one of us comes to Earth one requirement is we have to know every language because we don't know really where we'll land."
"That makes sense."
Both Spence and Mikey let out a laugh.