Speaker 1

Title: The Last Letter
(A kid sits on their bed, holding an old, crumpled letter. They hesitate before speaking.)

I found this in the attic. It’s from you. Well… it’s from you, but it’s to me. Except you never gave it to me. Dated three years ago. Three years. Were you going to give it to me someday? Or were you just hoping I’d never see it?

You wrote, “I miss you, and I’m sorry.” That’s it? That’s all I get? I don’t even know what you’re sorry for. Sorry for leaving? Sorry for missing birthdays? Sorry for not calling? If you had given this to me, maybe I would’ve written back. Maybe I would’ve said… I miss you too.

But I guess it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?

(They fold the letter, staring at it for a long moment before tucking it into their pocket.)

Speaker 2

Title: The Substitute Teacher Incident
(A student stands in front of the class, arms crossed, defending themselves.)

Okay, listen, I know what this looks like, but I swear—this is NOT my fault. Yes, I may have accidentally convinced the substitute teacher that our class had a daily ritual where we all speak in British accents. And yes, I may have encouraged everyone to go along with it for the entire period.

But in my defense, Mr. Jenkins was REALLY committed. Like, full-on Shakespeare mode. He even started calling the whiteboard the Knowledge Slate. I was doing him a favor! And anyway, I was going to tell him the truth, but then he assigned homework in Old English, and at that point, we were too deep.

So really, the only person to blame here… is the educational system.

Speaker 3

Title: The Locked Door
(A kid stands outside a locked door, whispering urgently.)

Shh… Do you hear that? Something’s moving inside. It’s not Mom. It’s not Dad. They’re downstairs. So then… what is it?

I was just walking past when I heard scratching. Soft at first, but then louder. Like something was trying to—trying to get out. And then… then I heard my name. I swear I did.

I should open the door, right? I mean, it’s probably nothing. Just the wind. Just my imagination. But what if it’s not?

(They reach for the doorknob but hesitate. The scratching stops. A beat.)

Yeah. I think I’ll sleep in the living room tonight.

Speaker 4

Title: The Missing Time
(A kid sits at their desk, recording a voice memo.)

Okay, this is… weird. Really weird. So, I was walking home from school, right? Normal day. Same route. But then, I blinked, and suddenly I was two blocks away. Just… there. I don’t remember walking. I don’t remember anything.

I checked my watch. Three minutes were just gone. Like, erased. How does that happen?

And here’s the part that really freaks me out—I wasn’t alone. When I came back to myself, there was this kid standing across the street. Staring at me. He looked my age, but I swear I’ve never seen him before. He raised his hand—like he was waving—but before I could say anything, he turned and walked away.

I tried to follow him, but when I turned the corner… he was gone.

(Pause.)

This isn’t normal. Something’s happening to me. And I think that kid knows why.

Speaker 5

Title: A Letter to the Dragon
(A kid sits on a rock, writing a letter out loud.)

Dear Dragon,

I know you’re out there. I’ve seen the footprints in the mud, the scorch marks on the trees. I even found one of your scales—shiny and blue, like the sky just before sunset. People say you’re dangerous, but I don’t believe them. If you were, wouldn’t we all be piles of ashes by now?

I think you’re just lonely. Hiding in the caves, watching from the clouds. That’s why I’m writing to you. I want to meet you. Just once. I promise I won’t run. I won’t scream. I’ll just sit quietly and listen.

So if you’re reading this—or, you know, eating this—just know… I’m not afraid.

Sincerely,
Your future friend.

Speaker 6

Title: Dad’s New House
(A kid sits on a suitcase, looking around.)

So this is it. Dad’s new house. It’s nice. I mean, it smells like paint and all the furniture still has those little tags on them, but… it’s nice. It’s just weird, you know? Seeing him here, without Mom. Without me.

He showed me my room. It’s big. Bigger than my old one. But it doesn’t feel like mine yet. No posters, no bedspread. Just empty walls and a suitcase full of my stuff.

Maybe I’ll get used to it. Maybe next time I come over, it won’t feel so… new. Maybe.

(They grab their suitcase and walk toward their room.)

Speaker 7

Title: The Time Traveler’s Note
(A kid stands in front of a mirror, holding an old piece of paper.)

It’s my handwriting. I know it is. But I didn’t write this. Not yet.

“Don’t go to the train tracks after school. Trust me.”

That’s all it says. No signature. No explanation. But the paper is old, like it’s been folded and unfolded a hundred times. Like it’s been waiting for me.

But here’s the thing—I was going to the train tracks after school. I was going to meet Sam there. So… how did I know? Or—how did future me know?

I have two choices. Go, and find out what happens. Or don’t… and never know.

(They stare at the note, debating. Blackout.)

Speaker 1

Title: The Great Lunch Swap Disaster
(Two kids, JAMIE and LUCAS, sit at a lunch table, staring at their sandwiches in horror.)

JAMIE: Okay, so let’s just go over this one more time. You said you’d bring peanut butter and jelly.

LUCAS: Right. And YOU said you’d bring turkey and cheese.

JAMIE: Right! So how did we BOTH end up with… whatever this is?

LUCAS: (Pokes sandwich.) I think it’s tuna… but like, the kind of tuna that’s seen things.

JAMIE: My mom must’ve packed this by mistake. I love her, but sometimes she experiments. Last week, she put raisins in my spaghetti. I’m still recovering.

LUCAS: (Nods solemnly.) That’s not right.

JAMIE: So what do we do?

LUCAS: We trade back?

JAMIE: And end up with the same nightmare sandwich? No. We need a new plan.

LUCAS: (Leaning in.) We find someone else to trade with.

JAMIE: (Scanning the lunchroom.) Hmmm. What about Molly?

LUCAS: (Shakes head.) She eats sushi. Cold, weird, fishy sushi.

JAMIE: (Gags.) Pass. Okay, what about Sam? He usually has—

LUCAS: (Interrupting, horrified.) Sam’s eating pizza bagels. No way he’s trading.

JAMIE: Ugh! We’re doomed.

LUCAS: (Grimly.) There’s only one thing left to do.

JAMIE: (Sighs.) Eat it?

LUCAS: (Nods.) Eat it.

(They stare at their sandwiches, take a deep breath, and bite. They chew slowly. A pause.)

JAMIE: (Blinking.) …Huh.

LUCAS: (Mouth full.) Kinda… good?

JAMIE: (Nods.) Weirdly good.

(They continue eating in silence, defeated yet victorious.)

Speaker 2

Title: The Vanishing Footprints
(Two friends, RILEY and EVAN, stand in a snowy clearing, staring at a set of footprints… that suddenly stop.)

RILEY: Where do they go?

EVAN: (Pointing.) They just… end. Look!

RILEY: That’s not possible. People don’t just disappear mid-step.

EVAN: Maybe they jumped?

RILEY: Across four feet of snow? Who do you think we’re tracking, Bigfoot?

EVAN: (Shivers.) Well, now that you mention it…

RILEY: Not funny.

EVAN: (Quietly.) I wasn’t joking.

(They both pause, listening. The wind howls.)

RILEY: Let’s go back.

EVAN: But what if—

RILEY: No. Let’s go back.

EVAN: We’re so close! What if we’re the first people to ever figure this out?

RILEY: (Dead serious.) What if we’re the next people to disappear?

(A sudden crack echoes through the trees. They both freeze.)

EVAN: That was…

RILEY: Not the wind.

(They turn slowly. A shadow moves in the trees. Another crack. Then—silence.)

EVAN: (Whispering.) Run?

RILEY: (Nods.) Run.

(They take off, their footprints vanishing behind them.)

Speaker 3

Title: The Glitch
(Siblings ALEX and TESS are in their bedroom. TESS is freaking out. ALEX is trying to stay calm.)

TESS: I saw it! I swear!

ALEX: You think you saw it.

TESS: No, I KNOW what I saw! My reflection—Alex, it blinked after I did!

ALEX: (Pauses.) That’s… weird.

TESS: You think?! It’s not normal! It’s like—like the mirror was lagging, like a bad video game.

ALEX: Maybe you’re just tired.

TESS: No. No way. You try it. Look in the mirror and wave.

(Alex hesitates, then slowly waves. The reflection waves back… but a second too late.)

ALEX: (Whispering.) Okay. That’s definitely not normal.

TESS: What do we do?

ALEX: (Thinking.) Maybe… maybe it’s just a trick of the light.

TESS: (Shakes head.) I don’t think light makes reflections move on their own.

ALEX: (Swallows.) Good point.

(Pause. The reflection tilts its head. But ALEX and TESS do not.)

TESS: (Whispering.) It’s watching us.

(The reflection smiles. But they don’t.)

ALEX & TESS: (Screaming.) AAAHHHHH!!!

(Blackout.)

Speaker 4

Title: Stars in a Jar
(Two friends, MELODY and JORDAN, sit on a rooftop, looking at the stars.)

JORDAN: You ever wish you could catch one? A star, I mean. Just… keep it in a jar or something?

MELODY: What would you do with it?

JORDAN: I dunno. Keep it on my nightstand. Use it as a nightlight. Maybe make a wish on it every night.

MELODY: (Smiles.) That’s kind of nice.

JORDAN: (Shrugs.) I just think… if I had a star, I’d never be afraid of the dark again.

MELODY: (Quietly.) You’re afraid of the dark?

JORDAN: …Sometimes.

MELODY: Me too.

(A pause. The stars twinkle.)

JORDAN: Maybe we don’t need a jar. Maybe the stars are already ours.

MELODY: (Nods.) Yeah. I like that.

(They sit in comfortable silence, watching the sky.)

Speaker 5

Title: The Hidden Room
(Siblings NOAH and LENA are in their old attic, staring at a section of wall where the wallpaper has peeled away, revealing the outline of a door.)

NOAH: That’s a door. That’s totally a door.

LENA: But there’s no handle. Or hinges. Or anything.

NOAH: (Excited.) What if it’s a secret room? Like, hidden treasure or—

LENA: (Skeptical.) More like hidden dust. Or hidden rats.

NOAH: (Ignoring her.) What if it’s full of old-timey stuff? Or letters? What if we find out we’re related to a pirate?!

LENA: Noah, you really need to stop watching so many adventure movies.

NOAH: You’re just mad because I thought of it first.

LENA: (Folding arms.) Fine. Open it.

NOAH: (Pauses.) I, uh… I don’t technically know how.

LENA: (Sighs.) Step aside.

(She presses against the door. Nothing. She knocks. A hollow echo.)

NOAH: (Eyes widening.) That’s not solid.

LENA: (Whispering.) There’s something behind there.

(A soft creak. They freeze. The door… starts to open—on its own.)

NOAH & LENA: (Panicked whisper.) RUN.

(They bolt out of the attic as the door slowly swings open behind them.)

Speaker 6

Title: The Magic Word Problem
(Two kids, OLIVER and MAYA, are trying to get past their older sibling, JESS, who is guarding the kitchen.)

JESS: You want a cookie? Then say the magic word.

OLIVER: Easy. “Please.”

JESS: Wrong.

MAYA: What do you mean, wrong?! It’s “please.” It’s always “please.”

JESS: Not today. Today, I changed it.

OLIVER: That’s not fair!

JESS: (Smug.) Life’s not fair. Now, guess again.

MAYA: Fine. “Thank you?”

JESS: Nope.

OLIVER: “Abracadabra?”

JESS: Warmer.

MAYA: Ugh. “Hocus pocus?”

JESS: Colder.

OLIVER: (Annoyed.) “JESS IS THE GREATEST SIBLING IN THE WORLD?”

JESS: (Beaming.) Bingo.

(MAYA groans. OLIVER grumbles but repeats it.)

OLIVER: “Jess is the greatest sibling in the world.”

JESS: Louder.

MAYA & OLIVER: (Yelling.) “JESS IS THE GREATEST SIBLING IN THE WORLD!”

JESS: (Tosses them each a cookie.) Pleasure doing business with you.

(MAYA and OLIVER scowl, but eat their cookies anyway.)

Speaker 7

Title: The Stranger in the Photo
(Two friends, CASEY and JORDAN, are looking at an old family photo in CASEY’s living room.)

JORDAN: Who’s that?

CASEY: Who’s who?

JORDAN: That guy, in the back. Behind your grandma.

CASEY: (Frowns.) What are you talking about? That’s just the lamp.

JORDAN: (Points.) Nope. That’s a guy. He’s wearing a hat.

CASEY: (Looking closer.) …Wait. What?

JORDAN: You seriously never noticed him before?

CASEY: No! I’ve seen this picture a hundred times! That guy was not there before!

JORDAN: (Nervous.) Well… he’s there now.

CASEY: (Quietly.) But how?

(They stare at the photo. A long pause. Then—)

JORDAN: (Gulps.) …Do you feel like he’s looking at us?

CASEY: (Whispering.) I don’t want to talk about it.

(A sudden creak from behind them. They both jump and spin around. Blackout.)

Speaker 1

The Lost Dog

(A kid sits on the edge of a porch step, picking at their shoelace.)

When I was six, we had this dog, Milo. He wasn’t anything fancy—just a mutt my dad found wandering near the gas station. But he was mine. He’d sleep at the foot of my bed, follow me everywhere, even sat next to me when I had to eat my vegetables, like he was suffering right along with me.

One day, I left the gate open. I didn’t mean to. I was rushing inside because my favorite show was on, and I didn’t check.

By the time I realized… he was gone.

We searched everywhere. Posters, calls, walking up and down the street shaking a box of treats. Days went by. Then weeks.

I used to think maybe he found another kid. Some kid who also forgot to close the gate, but maybe this time, he didn’t run away. Maybe he stayed. I hope so. I really do.

But sometimes, I still dream about him. That he’s running back up the driveway, tail wagging, like he was never gone at all.

And then I wake up.

Speaker 2

The Birthday Party That Wasn’t

(A kid stands next to a deflated balloon, toeing it with their shoe.)

When I turned eight, I had this big birthday party planned. I mean, big. Streamers, cupcakes, a bouncy house—even a magician. My mom said it was going to be “the party of the year.”

I handed out invitations to everyone in my class. Twenty-three kids. I counted. I remember counting.

The day came. The balloons were up, the cake was ready, my mom even let me wear my new sneakers inside. And then… we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One kid showed up. Just one. He stayed for about ten minutes, ate a cupcake, then said his mom wanted him home early.

After he left, my mom said maybe people got busy. Maybe they forgot. But I saw her face when she started taking the decorations down.

Nobody forgets twenty-three times.

Speaker 3

The Day Dad Left

(A kid sits on a couch, staring at an old photo in their hands.)

The last time I saw my dad, he didn’t say goodbye.

It was a Thursday. I remember because we were supposed to have pizza night, and I was excited. But then my mom got quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your stomach hurt. She sat me down and said, “Daddy’s not coming home.”

I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because I didn’t believe her. I mean, dads don’t just leave, right?

But then I looked around. His shoes weren’t by the door. His jacket wasn’t on the chair. And suddenly, pizza night didn’t matter anymore.

I used to think he’d come back. That maybe he just needed a break, like when I got overwhelmed with homework and had to take a minute.

But minutes turned into years.

And now, when I think about him, I don’t know whether I want him to walk through that door or just stay gone.

Speaker 4

The Empty Seat

(A kid sits at a school desk, running their fingers along the edge.)

There used to be someone who sat here. Right next to me.

His name was Daniel. We weren’t best friends or anything, but we laughed at the same dumb jokes and always picked the same color in art class—blue. He said it was the color of superheroes.

One day, he stopped showing up. No one said anything at first. People just assumed he was sick. But then a week passed. Then two.

Finally, the teacher told us he wasn’t coming back.

I don’t know what happened. Some kids whispered about hospitals. Others just shrugged.

But every time I look at this empty seat, I wonder if he knew. If he knew the last time he sat here was the last time. If he knew the last joke we laughed at would be the last one.

I wish I had said something more important that day. Something that mattered.

But all I said was, “See you tomorrow.”

Speaker 5

The Box in the Closet

(A kid sits on the floor, staring at an old shoebox.)

There’s a box in my closet I haven’t opened in years.

It’s full of things from when I was little—crayon drawings, birthday cards, a stuffed rabbit missing one ear. And a letter.

It’s from my grandmother. She wrote it before she got sick, before she started forgetting things—forgetting me.

She used to tell me stories about how she and Grandpa met, how they danced in the kitchen when nobody was looking. And then one day, she just… didn’t. She didn’t remember the stories. She didn’t remember me.

After she was gone, I found this letter in the box. But I’ve never read it. I’m scared it’ll be full of things I miss too much. Or worse… that it won’t be what I remember at all.

Speaker 6

The First Snow Without Her

(A kid stands by a window, watching the snowfall.)

My sister loved the snow. She used to wake me up early, before the sun was even up, screaming, “It’s snowing, it’s snowing!” like I couldn’t just look outside and see for myself.

We’d spend hours outside, building lopsided snowmen and making snow angels until our fingers went numb. She always said the first snow was magic. That if you caught a snowflake on your tongue, it meant good luck.

Last year was the first time it snowed without her.

I ran outside, just like before. I stuck out my tongue, waiting for that first snowflake to land.

But it didn’t feel like magic anymore.

It just felt cold.

Speaker 7

The Goodbye That Didn’t Happen

(A kid stands in front of a moving box, tracing patterns in the dust.)

I should’ve said goodbye.

I should’ve hugged my best friend one last time, should’ve told them I’d write every week. But instead, I just stood there. Because I thought, if I didn’t say it out loud, maybe it wouldn’t be real.

But it was real.

And when I got in the car, and we drove away, I kept telling myself, “You’ll see them again. It’s not forever.”

But you know what?

Sometimes, “not forever” feels exactly like forever.

Speaker 1

The Cereal Incident

(A kid stands at the kitchen counter, staring at a disastrous mess of cereal, milk, and broken bowl shards on the floor.)

Okay. Okay. This looks bad. But before you freak out, let me just explain.

I was just trying to get breakfast. That’s it. A simple, peaceful bowl of cereal. I poured the flakes first—like a normal person, obviously—but then I realized we were out of milk. So I go to the fridge, right? And there it is, sitting way in the back behind, like, six jars of mustard.

So I do what anyone would do. I stretch. One foot on the floor, one foot up on the bottom shelf, leaning in like I’m in some kind of action movie. And I grab the milk. Victory, right? WRONG.

Because the second I step down, my sock—MY SOCK—lands in a mysterious puddle in front of the fridge. I don’t know what it was. Water? Juice? Something from the dark abyss of expired leftovers? I don’t know. But what I do know is that it was SLIPPERY.

One second, I’m up. The next, I’m doing a full-on cartoon banana peel slip, the milk goes flying, my arm smacks the cereal bowl, and BOOM—instant breakfast explosion.

And now I’m standing here… trying to figure out how to explain this to Mom before she sees it herself.

So… uh… any chance you want to take the blame?

Speaker 2

The Time I Got Stuck in a Chair

(A kid is halfway stuck in a plastic lawn chair, arms flailing as they try to wriggle out.)

You ever have one of those moments where you immediately regret your life choices?

Because I’m having one RIGHT NOW.

See, it started as a simple experiment. I was just testing if I could fit through the slats of this chair. Which, let’s be honest, was a perfectly reasonable thing to wonder! The gap LOOKED big enough. And at first, my head went through just fine!

But then… um… the rest of me? Not so much.

I tried to pull back out, but suddenly, my ears were involved, and now—now I’m officially wedged. Like a human pretzel.

And the worst part? My brother saw the whole thing. And instead of HELPING me, he just grabbed his phone and said, “Don’t move. This is going on the internet.”

Oh no. Nope. Not today. I am NOT becoming a viral fail video.

Okay… deep breath. I just have to twist a little this way and—OW! Nope. That’s a shoulder cramp.

You know what? Maybe this is my life now. Maybe I just live in the chair. Yeah, I’ll just drag it with me wherever I go. Totally normal. Totally fine.

Unless… hey, can YOU go get some butter? I have an idea.

Speaker 3

The Superglue Catastrophe

(A kid stands with their hand stuck to their own forehead, looking completely defeated.)

Okay. First of all, I would like to state, for the record, that this was NOT my fault.

See, I was just trying to fix something. That’s it! My little sister broke my favorite action figure—again—so I thought, “No problem, I’ll just use a little glue.” Just a tiny drop of superglue.

Except… uh… turns out, superglue is SUPER.

One second, I’m squeezing the tube. The next, I have glue on my fingers. And THEN—I scratch my forehead.

Big mistake. Huge.

Now I’m standing here, with my hand literally glued to my own face. And before you say, “Just pull it off”—I TRIED THAT. Now I have glue on my other hand too.

So basically, I am stuck like this. Forever. I will grow old like this. Graduate like this. Walk down the aisle at my wedding like this.

Unless… do you think I could convince people this is some kind of cool new trend?

No?

Yeah, me neither.

Speaker 4

The Pool Noodle Duel

(A kid stands in the backyard, wielding a pool noodle like a sword, looking out of breath.)

It started as a friendly duel. Just a little backyard battle between me and my cousin. Pool noodle versus pool noodle. The stakes? Honor, glory, and, um… the last popsicle.

At first, I was winning. Ducking, dodging, delivering some pretty EPIC slow-motion attacks. But then—then he pulls out the move.

See, I thought we were playing fair. But apparently, my cousin follows the no-rules, fight-to-the-end, battle mode of pool noodle warfare. Because just when I went in for the final strike—he yeeted his noodle across the yard and BODY-SLAMMED ME INTO THE SPRINKLER.

I mean, full-on tackle.

And now I am SOAKED. Defeated. And, worst of all… popsicle-less.

So, in conclusion: pool noodles are not to be trusted.

Speaker 5

The Popcorn Disaster

(A kid is fanning smoke away from a microwave, looking panicked.)

Alright. Nobody panic.

I may have… slightly… kind of… set the microwave on fire.

But in my defense, the instructions were confusing. The bag said “Pop for 2-4 minutes.” So naturally, I thought, “Okay, I’ll go with 4, just to be safe.”

Well, turns out, 4 minutes is NOT safe. In fact, 4 minutes is how you summon THE SMOKE MONSTER OF DOOM.

And now, the whole house smells like burnt regret.

Mom’s gonna notice. She notices EVERYTHING. I could hide the evidence, throw the whole microwave away, move to a different country—but somehow, she’d still know.

Unless… do you think I can blame this on the cat?

Speaker 6

The Betrayal of the Ice Cream Cone

(A kid stands with a melted ice cream cone dripping all over their hand, looking heartbroken.)

I just wanted ice cream. That’s all. A simple, happy, joyful treat on a hot day.

But no. The universe decided that today was the day to teach me a cruel lesson about trust.

See, I was so excited. I had it all planned out. I walked into the ice cream shop, picked my two scoops—cookie dough on the bottom, cookies and cream on top—PERFECT combination, by the way. I even splurged for the waffle cone.Because I deserved it.

And there it was. In my hand. A masterpiece. Cold, creamy, sweet perfection.

But then… then I took one step outside.

And do you know what happened? Betrayal.

The second the summer heat hit—BOOM! Meltdown city. The ice cream started dripping immediately. Not a casual, manageable drip—oh no. This was a full avalanche. A sticky, sugary catastrophe running down my hand, my wrist, my arm.

I panicked. I tried to lick up the damage, but I was losing the battle fast. And then—then—the final betrayal.

The entire top scoop—the beautiful, delicious, innocent scoop of cookies and cream—leapt off the cone. Just abandoned me. Fell in slow motion toward the sidewalk, like it was saying, “It’s been real, kid.”

And SPLAT.

Right there. On the hot pavement. Melting. Mocking me.

I just stood there, staring. People were walking by, probably whispering, “Poor kid.” A little toddler even pointed at my fallen scoop and said, “Uh-oh.” Yeah, buddy. Uh-oh indeed.

I had two choices: Accept my fate… or pick it up and invoke the five-second rule and risk EVERYTHING.

…Yeah, no. I just stood there. Tragically. Holding my one lonely scoop of cookie dough. Betrayed. Abandoned. Heartbroken.

And I ate it. Not happily. But because it was all I had left.

Speaker 7

The Great Trampoline Flip Fail

(A kid limps toward the audience, rubbing their elbow dramatically, eyes wide with disbelief.)

I almost did it.

I was so close to landing the perfect flip on the trampoline. The legendary backflip.

And before you say anything—YES, I had been watching YouTube tutorials. YES, I practiced jumping extra high to build momentum. And YES, I thought I was totally, 100% ready.

I was not ready.

It all started great. I bounced. Higher. Higher. My friends were watching. I had the perfect audience. And then, the moment of truth—I launched into the air, tucked my knees like they said in the video, and—

And that’s when everything went horribly wrong.

First, I panicked mid-air. My brain suddenly went “Wait. Which way is the ground??” and my whole body just… stopped cooperating.

Instead of a graceful, controlled flip, I did what I can only describe as a mid-air freakout. Arms flailing. Legs kicking. I looked like a squirrel that just realized it can’t actually fly.

And THEN—I landed.

But NOT on my feet.

Oh no. That would have been too easy.

Instead, I landed on my FACE. Like, full, dramatic belly flop into the trampoline, which, fun fact, does NOT absorb impact as gently as you’d think.

Bounced once. Rolled. And then—

I flew off.

Like, off-off. Into the air. Beyond the trampoline. Straight into the bushes.

But wait—IT GETS WORSE.

Because as I’m laying there, stunned, leaves in my mouth, my friend—my so-called friend—doesn’t run to check if I’m okay. Oh no.

Instead, I hear them shout:

“DO IT AGAIN! I DIDN’T GET IT ON VIDEO!”

…No. I am never doing it again. Ever.

Okay, maybe if I get a mattress. And a helmet. And possibly, a stunt double.

But for now, lesson learned: I am NOT a YouTube-level gymnast.