Lusia finds that her grandmother’s old pencil case is glowing, and the pencils and crayons inside can talk. Then they invite her toward a secret in the old classroom.
It was a bright, sunny morning when Lusia packed her schoolbag. At the bottom lay the old, colourful pencil case her grandmother had given her. She held it in her hands. It felt warm.
When Lusia opened the zip, a tiny glow spilled out. The red pencil wriggled free and rolled across her desk. "Finally, some room!" it said. The green eraser bounced once and huffed, "You left a mess in here!" The crayons jiggled together and giggled, "We’re ready to make trouble. Or a picture. Maybe both!"
Lusia stared. Her mouth fell open. The pencil case gave a little shake, as if it was laughing too. "Come with us after school," whispered the navy blue pencil. "There’s a secret in the old classroom. But don’t let the headmistress hear us!"
Lusia slipped the pencil case under her arm and hurried into the school corridor. The voices inside whispered and rustled, guiding her forward. Then, from the end of the hall, came a slow creak. Around the corner stood the old classroom door, shut tight. Lusia reached for the handle, and the pencil case jumped in her hands.