Hello, reader. My name is Jasper, and my story begins with a truth that shaped me: I’m an orphan. I never knew my real parents. I grew up in an orphanage, a place where days felt long and dreams often felt small. That was my life until I turned 11, when everything changed.

It was a sunny afternoon when I met them—the couple who would become my parents. They weren’t wealthy, but they were kind, warm, and full of laughter. I later learned they’d spent years wondering why they couldn’t have children of their own. Somehow, fate—or maybe God—decided I’d be their son.

After they adopted me, they did something I had always dreamed of: they enrolled me in school. I started in elementary school, even though I was older than most of the other kids. Being the tallest in class made me feel awkward, like I didn’t quite belong. But thankfully, I had one thing going for me: I was smart—really smart. People called me a genius, which was both a blessing and a curse.

I could solve problems faster than anyone and even caught my teachers making mistakes. I didn’t mean to embarrass them; I just loved learning and couldn’t help but correct things when they were wrong. Soon, word of my abilities reached the principal, who invited my parents for a meeting.

Sitting in the principal’s office, my parents looked nervous, clutching their hands together. The principal smiled warmly and said, “Your son is brilliant. He’s not being challenged here, and we believe he should be in middle school already. What do you think?”

My dad sighed. “I wish I could, but I don’t have the money to send him to a good middle school right now. I was hoping he could stay here for a few more months while I figure things out.”

The principal nodded thoughtfully before offering something unexpected. “Don’t worry about the money. We’d like to give Jasper a scholarship to attend the best middle school in town—if you’re okay with it.”

My parents’ faces lit up with excitement. My mom wiped a tear from her eye, and my dad said, “For the good of our son, we can’t say no. But we should ask him first.”

The principal called me from class to join the meeting. When I entered the office, I saw my parents smiling nervously. After a moment of silence, my mom spoke gently. “Jasper, your school is offering you a scholarship to go to middle school. How do you feel about it?”

I paused for a moment, thinking about everything they’d done for me and how much they wanted the best for my future. Finally, I said, “If you’re okay with it, then I am too.”

And just like that, my journey to middle school began—a journey that would change my life in ways I couldn’t yet imagine.

All the preparations were complete, and tomorrow morning marked the start of my learning journey at Daston School. I was a mix of thrilled and terrified. Daston was known as a school for children from wealthy families—the kind of wealth I couldn’t even imagine. I was just a scholarship kid, and the thought of standing out for the wrong reasons gnawed at me.

Trying to calm my nerves, I reassured myself, Surely, there must be other scholarship students in my class. I’ll find them. We’ll share ideas and stick together.

Time waits for no one, and before I knew it, Monday morning arrived. I woke up early, my excitement battling my nervousness. After getting ready, I had breakfast and my mom walked with me to the bus stop.

“Be confident,” she said, her smile warm but her voice tinged with encouragement.

When the bus arrived, I climbed aboard, waving at her as she stood watching from the sidewalk. The bus pulled away, and I noticed something right away—most of the other students were dropped off at school by their parents in sleek, expensive cars. Only a few of us were on the school bus.

It wasn’t long before we reached the towering gates of Daston School. As I stepped off the bus, I felt like all eyes were on me. The grandness of the school was overwhelming—its well-manicured lawns and shiny buildings seemed to whisper, You don’t belong here.

Standing by the entrance was a teacher, scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on me, and though he didn’t speak, his lips moved just enough to ask, Are you new here?

I nodded silently, and he walked over, his demeanor kind but focused. “Follow me,” he said, leading the way to the office. As we walked, he asked a few questions—basic ones about my name, where I was from, and if I was ready for my first day.

With every step closer to the office, my stomach twisted in knots. I couldn’t help but wonder what awaited me at Daston School and if I’d ever truly fit in.