# Finn and the Friendship Bookmark
Finn loved books the way some kids loved soccer balls or skateboards. He loved how a book felt in his hands—smooth cover, crisp pages, and tiny letters lined up like ants on a trail. He loved the soft *shh-shh* sound when he turned a page.
At school, Finn often sat near the classroom bookshelf. The shelf was tall and wobbly, and it smelled like paper and crayons. When other kids raced toy cars or played tag, Finn opened a book and slipped inside its world.
Inside those pages, Finn could ride a boat made of clouds. He could talk to dragons who told jokes. He could walk through forests where the leaves whispered secrets.
But in the real classroom, Finn felt nervous.
He worried the other kids might laugh at him.
Sometimes he imagined them saying, “Finn is strange! Finn reads baby books!” His tummy would get wiggly, like a jar full of jumping beans.
So Finn kept his stories close and his words quiet.
At recess, he sat on the bench by the fence, hugging a book to his chest. He watched other kids run in groups. They looked like flocks of bright birds, swooping and spinning.
Finn looked down at his shoes.
“I like my books,” he whispered to himself. “But maybe nobody likes *me*.”
One Monday, Ms. Maple clapped her hands. “Class, we have a new project! On Friday, we will have a Story Festival. You will work in teams to make one big story.”
Finn’s head popped up.
“A big story?” he murmured.
Ms. Maple smiled. “Yes. A story with characters, a setting, and a problem to solve. Each team will read it aloud to the class.”
Finn’s heart thumped.
A team meant… other kids.
Finn imagined standing in front of everyone, his face hot, his voice squeaky.
