Tilly the turtle sat in the sunny grass and sighed a tiny turtle sigh.
“Today,” she said, “I will jump on my trampoline.”
There was only one problem.
There was no trampoline.
The pond was quiet. The trees were quiet. Even the daisies looked confused.
Benny the bunny hopped over, wiggling his nose. “Where is it, Tilly?”
Tilly pointed at the air. “Right there.”
Benny blinked. “That is… air.”
“It's an imaginary trampoline,” Tilly said proudly. “It is very bouncy. Very springy. Very… boingy.”
Mina the mouse peeked from behind a leaf. “Can I try?”
“Of course,” said Tilly. “But first, I must warm up my jumping feet.”
Tilly lifted one slow foot. Then the other. She took a deep breath like a hero in a very small shell.
“Ready?” Benny asked.
“Ready,” said Tilly.
Tilly stepped onto the imaginary trampoline.
Nothing happened.
She stepped again, harder.
Still nothing.
She frowned. “Hmm.”
Mina whispered, “Maybe it is asleep.”
Tilly nodded. “Wake up, trampoline! Wake up!”
Tilly did her biggest, bravest jump.
She hopped up one inch.
Then she landed with a soft plop on the grass.
Benny clapped anyway. “Nice plop!”
Tilly giggled. “That was not a boing. That was a plop.”
“Try again!” Mina squeaked.
Tilly tried again. “Boing!” she shouted.
She hopped up one inch again.
“Boing!” she shouted louder.
One inch.
Benny put his paws on his cheeks. “Maybe it needs a password.”
Tilly leaned close to the air. “Password… um… Lettuce?”
Nothing.
“Pickles?” Mina offered.
Nothing.
Benny said, very serious, “Carrot-pants.”
Tilly tried it. “Carrot-pants!”
Still nothing, but Benny laughed so hard he fell over in the clover.
A duck named Dot waddled by with a shiny feather hat. “Quack-quack. What is the giggle noise?”
“We have an imaginary trampoline,” Mina said.
Dot nodded like this was normal. “I have an imaginary hat collection. This one is imaginary too.”
Benny squinted. “But… I can see your hat.”
Dot winked. “Then it is extra imaginary.”
Tilly stood tall. “Maybe my trampoline needs a drawing.”
She found a stick and drew a big square on the ground. She drew curly springs. She drew little stars. She even drew a tiny sign that said: PLEASE BOING.
“There!” said Tilly. “Now it knows what to do.”
She stepped inside the square.
She bent her knees.
She jumped.
“BOING!” everybody shouted.
Tilly hopped up two inches.
Tilly's eyes went wide. “Two inches! That is double!”
Benny jumped into the square too. “Boing time!”
He jumped so fast he bonked his own ears with his own knees and made a silly “poof!” sound.
Mina tried and squeaked, “Boing!” but she only did a teeny “bing.”
Dot flapped her wings and cried, “Quack-boing!” and wobbled like jelly.
They all laughed and tried again and again.
Sometimes it was a plop. Sometimes a bing. Sometimes a wobble.
Once, Tilly tried a fancy spin and landed facing the wrong way.
She blinked. “Oops.”
Benny grinned. “That was the best wrong way I have ever seen.”
Tilly tried again, slower. “Boing,” she whispered.
Up she went—three inches!
The sun slid lower and turned the grass golden. The imaginary trampoline felt soft and friendly, like a game that never got mad.
Tilly sat down in her square and smiled. “I think my trampoline likes practice.”
Mina snuggled close. “And giggles.”
Dot nodded. “And hats.”
Benny said, “And carrot-pants.”
Tilly laughed so quietly it sounded like a tiny bubble. Then she gave one last gentle hop.
“Boing,” she said.
It was small, but it felt just right.
