At the School of Heroes, where capes fluttered like laundry on a windy day and the smell of buttery popcorn always hung in the air, Daniel was known for two things: his kindness and his very wobbly knees.

Today was the day. The Great Somersault Challenge. All the little heroes had to flip forward—whoosh!—like a pancake on a Sunday morning. The gym mats, warm and squishy like a giant marshmallow, waited in a long row. The air smelled of rubber and the faint tang of someone’s nervous sweat (probably Daniel’s).

First up: Luna, the lightning-fast girl. She sprinted, tucked her chin, and—flip!—landed like a cat on all fours. "Ta-da!" she cheered. The mat made a happy boing under her feet.

Next: Max, the boy who could balance a book on his nose. He wobbled, arms out like a sleepy owl, then—flop!—landed in a giggly heap. "Oof! That’s harder than it looks!" he laughed, rubbing his bottom.

Then it was Daniel’s turn. His heart went thumpity-thump like a drum in a parade. His socks, slippery as banana peels, slid a little as he stepped up. He took a deep breath—sniff—the gym smelled like old sneakers and determination. He crouched low, knees knocking like castanets, and pushed off.

Wobble. Wobble. SPLAT!

Daniel landed flat on his back, arms and legs splayed like a starfish. The mat sighed under him. A giggle escaped his lips, bubbly as soda pop. "Well… that was NOT a somersault," he muttered. His elbows felt like they’d been tickled by a feather duster, all tingly and silly.

Coach Bear, whose belly jiggled like a bowl of jelly, clapped his paws. "Not bad for a first try! Remember, heroes: even pancakes flip twice before they’re golden. Try again!"

Daniel stood up, brushing off the fuzzy bits of mat stuck to his shirt. He tried once more. Wobble. Wobble. FLUMP! This time, he rolled sideways and bumped into Max, who yelped and toppled like a domino. "Sorry!" Daniel gasped, helping him up. The gym echoed with laughter, warm as a hug.

On the third try, Daniel’s hands slipped—squelch!—right into a puddle of Max’s spilled juice. "Ew! Sticky!" he yelped, shaking his fingers. The juice smelled like overripe strawberries and mischief. But he didn’t give up. He wiped his hands on his shorts (which now smelled like a fruit salad) and tried again.

Wobble. Wobble. WHOOSH!

For one glorious second, Daniel was upside down! His socks flapped like tiny flags in the wind. His tummy did a happy flip-flop. Then—plop!—he landed on his knees, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. "I DID IT!" he shouted. The gym erupted in cheers, loud as a thunderstorm.

Coach Bear ruffled Daniel’s hair, which felt like a broom sweeping through a haystack. "That’s how heroes do it! Not perfect, but persistent. Like a snail climbing a mountain—slow and steady wins the race!"

As Daniel walked out of the gym, his muscles humming like a bumblebee, he realized something: the best part wasn’t the somersault. It was the trying. The wobbles, the splats, the sticky juice hands—all of it. Because every hero starts somewhere, even if it’s on their bottom.

And with that, Daniel skipped off, ready for the next challenge. Maybe tomorrow, he’d try a cartwheel. Or maybe… just maybe… he’d finally learn to tie his shoelaces without turning them into spaghetti.