Matina stood at the school gate, her backpack feeling heavier than ever. It wasn’t just the books—it was the fear, the questions, the big knot in her stomach. Would anyone talk to her? Would she sit alone at lunch? Would she even find her classroom in time?

She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The hallways were already full of students—laughing, talking, moving in every direction like they knew exactly where they were going. Matina walked slowly, clutching the paper with her schedule, her eyes scanning the room numbers on the doors.

Matina finally found her classroom—3B. She peeked inside. Almost all the seats were taken. The teacher wasn’t there yet. As she stepped in, a group of kids near the middle turned to look at her. One of them, a tall boy with messy hair, smirked.

“New kid?” he said loudly. “You can sit back there. That’s where the invisible ones go.”

A few kids laughed. Matina froze for a second, then slowly walked to the very last seat by the window.

Matina sat down without saying a word. Her cheeks were burning, and her hands trembled slightly as she unpacked her notebook. She stared at the wooden desk, covered in old scratches and pen marks. Invisible. That word echoed in her head. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never come back up.

Just as Matina was trying to hold back her tears, the classroom door swung open. A tall woman with kind eyes and a long green scarf stepped inside. She didn’t carry any books—only a small wooden box. The room fell silent.

“Good morning, class,” she said with a smile. “I’m Ms. Anna. Before we begin, I have something important to show you.”

She placed the box on her desk. “This,” she continued, tapping the lid, “will decide how we start the year. And no—it’s not what you think.”

Ms. Anna opened the wooden box carefully. Inside lay a large, old book with a leather cover, its pages yellowed with time.

“This is our Secret Journal,” she explained. “Every one of you will have a chance to write in it whenever you want. You can share your worries, your hopes, or even your smallest victories. No one else will read it—only the class, when we decide together.”

She smiled warmly. “This journal will remind us that we’re never truly alone, even when we feel invisible.”

After Ms. Anna closed the box, Matina gathered her courage and glanced around. A girl with curly hair and bright eyes smiled at her from a few seats away. She was sitting next to another girl, who was quietly reading a book.

“Hi,” the first girl said, waving her hand. “I’m Georgia.”

Matina smiled shyly. “I’m Matina.”

Georgia leaned in a little. “Don’t mind those kids who sent you to the back,” she whispered. “They like to act tough, but they’re not worth your attention. If you want, you can sit with us during lunch. We usually stick together.”