Stars

         Hop.
         I push off of the wide, smooth, and shiny blue surface of Rigel with my silver-shoed feet and steady legs, flying through the dark of the night and landing squarely on Betelgeuse.
         Hop.
         Betelgeuse shakes a little, it's red-white star surface tipping slightly as my shimmering, muscled legs propel me up and away towards Sirius.
         Hop.
         I can jump further than most Star People, accessing the brightest and loneliest stars like huge, pearly Sirius. Once I actually hit the moon, which no one else has ever done The moon is too big and bright, so all the stars near it look faint and far away, making it nearly impossible to reach by jumping. The moon was isolated, breathing spot until my parents banned me from the huge silver circle.
         Hop.
         Hop.
         Hop.
         In three bounds, I teeter on the smallest, weakest stare of the Pleiades cluster. Seven little shining circles, the smallest as wide as one foot, connected by thin, unstable walkways. Though the stars are only a few steps apart, I take the opportunity to revive from my long leaps by using the walkways. It takes incredible balance not to fall.
         Hop.
         I land on Arcturus. Not only the best star-leaper, I know the names of our stars better than nearly anyone else. I can perceive numbers to accompany any size, location, and color well enough to differentiate every star. Many see a boring silver-white on nearly every star, the same color as our star-leaping clothes. But I can make out distinctly different tints to every singly star.
         Hop.
         Hop.
         Sometimes I really wish I were a boy, so I could wear silver pants instead of a dress and have short hair. Well, shorter hair. My blonde hair is already short for a girl's--not even chin length. But it still gets in the way as I fly from Arcturus to Meissa, the head of Orion, the to the Orion nebula.
         Like the moon, the Orion nebula is somewhere else. Instead of a star, it's a fluffy, unstable cloud with multiple colors. It's not very bright, and star-leapers have fallen to their deaths from here before. So not many come here.
         Hop.
         Oh, who care. I'm going to break the rules and go back to the moon. After all, I've already broken the rules by leaving the satellite-school buried in our cloud city and going star-leaping. Which is of course why I'm being chased by the star police, the best star leapers besides me, and why I have to get to the moon.
         Hop, hop, hop, hop, hop.
         I leap nearer and nearer to the moon, gaining speed and surging ahead and away from the star police. My mind is at work, staying cleverly away from the most hospitable stars and avoiding people who chase me, and connecting dots. Then I'm here.
         The Near Star. Of course it has another name, but no one uses it. It's the closest star to the moon, the access point, the connection between the all-alone place and the rest of the world. Even from here, for me, it might be a suicide leap. I rest for a minute, afraid to take the risk. But I'm safe no where else.
         "There!" someone shouts. I spin around. A woman with long hair is flying towards my star, having expertly sprung from a far star. I spring towards the moon with no time to think.
         I soar through the darkness, flying towards the uneven, rocky grey circle of the moon. It's huge, maybe forty star-leapers wide. I land perfectly, a good four strides from the edge. Impressive. But I could do better.
         I walk to the center of the moon and sit down cross-legged on a soft area covered in fluffy gray dust. My heart beat has slowed since it's hummingbird commotion from the chase, but I still don't feel safe. I will never feel safe up here with the star-leapers. No matter how good I was at star-leaping, I didn't belong. I broke all those rules for a reason.
         I belong down on Earth.
         I have to get down there.