Far, far away—so far that Earth was just a tiny blue dot in the sky—there was a galaxy where the stars twinkled like giggling fireflies. Here, on the planet Glimmer-7, lived a girl named Amelia. She had hair that curled like springs and shoes that always untied themselves, no matter how many knots she tied. Flop! went her laces every time she ran.

The air on Glimmer-7 smelled like warm cinnamon cookies, and the wind carried a sound like tiny bells jingling. Amelia loved everything about her planet—the crunchy purple grass under her feet, the way the clouds tasted like cotton candy when she jumped high enough to nibble them. But there was one thing she didn’t love: the Giggle Games.

The Giggle Games were a big, noisy festival where kids from all over the galaxy came to show off their silliest talents. Some juggled moonbeams. Others sang songs that made your toes wiggle. And Amelia? Well, Amelia had a secret. She could make her shadow dance. Not just wiggle—dance. Like a tiny, dark ballerina twirling on the walls. But every time she thought about showing it, her stomach did somersaults, and her hands felt as sweaty as a wet sponge.

"What if they laugh?" she whispered to her pet space-sloth, Snickerdoodle, who was currently chewing on a glow-stick. Snickerdoodle blinked his big, sleepy eyes and let out a burp that smelled like bubblegum. Pbbbt! Amelia giggled. "You’re right. That *was* funny."

The day of the Giggle Games arrived, and the air buzzed with excitement. The stage was made of floating jelly-cubes that wobbled underfoot, and the crowd’s chatter sounded like a swarm of bees in a tin can. Amelia’s knees knocked together like drumsticks. Tap-tap-tap. She hid behind a curtain that felt as scratchy as a cactus hug.

Then she heard it—a sound that made her ears perk up. Sniff-sniff. Someone was crying. Behind a pile of stardust, she found a little alien with three eyes, all leaking blue tears. "I—I can’t make my spaceship fly straight," the alien hiccuped. "It keeps doing loop-de-loops! Everyone’s going to laugh at me!"

Amelia’s heart did a tiny flip. She knew that feeling. "Want to see something even *more* loop-de-loopy?" she asked. Before she could chicken out, she flicked off the lights. Her shadow stretched tall, then curtsied. It spun, it leaped, it even did the splits! The alien’s tears dried up, and soon, they were both laughing so hard their bellies ached.

"You’re amazing!" the alien cheered. "I bet *everyone* will love it!"

Amelia took a deep breath. The cinnamon-cookie smell filled her nose, and the jingling bells sounded like applause. She stepped onto the stage, her untied laces flopping like happy worms. Flop-flop! The crowd hushed. And then—she let her shadow dance.

The audience gasped. Then they clapped. Then they *cheered*. Amelia’s shadow twirled faster, and soon, other kids were joining in, their shadows dancing too. The stage wobbled, the jelly-cubes squished underfoot, and for the first time, Amelia didn’t feel afraid. She felt like the brightest star in the galaxy.

That night, as she lay in bed, Snickerdoodle curled up beside her, snoring like a tiny rocket. The air smelled like victory (which, oddly enough, smelled a lot like cinnamon cookies). Amelia smiled. The Giggle Games weren’t scary at all. They were just a place where everyone got to shine—even the shadows.