Ainhara tucked her scuffed red volleyball under her pillow and closed her eyes. Moonlight painted silver stripes across the floor. She felt the bed lift upward, upward, until her sneakers touched something new.
She tossed a ball into the air and swung hard. It smacked against the net and bounced straight back, nearly clipping her sneaker. Ainhara picked it up and served again; this time the ball dipped over but sailed wide into nothing.
On her third attempt the ball rocketed so high it bonked a floating lantern. It wobbled like a dizzy jellyfish and dropped straight into her hands. She laughed out loud.
Through her giggles she spotted someone waving from the far baseline. A coach figure! Ainhara squared her feet, tightened her laces, and got ready to try again.
Ainhara leaped for a spike. The ball bounced once, twice, then rocket-scored past three outstretched arms. The crowd erupted in cheers that sounded exactly like wind chimes.
The cheers turned to wind-chime music and the court began to fold inward like origami. Ainhara closed her eyes as the magic carried her home.
Morning light spilled across her duvet. Ainhara blinked awake, remembering every move. She swung her legs off the bed, grabbed the red ball from the corner, and headed downstairs.
She walked down the hall with the ball tucked under her arm. The kitchen light buzzed on, and Ainhara smiled. Today felt like a good day to practice.