Far, far away, where the sky is a swirl of cotton-candy pink and the stars giggle like wind chimes, there was a planet called Glimmer-7. It smelled like warm cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, and the ground was as bouncy as a trampoline made of marshmallows. Boing! Boing! That’s the sound of Jackson’s shoes every morning as he hopped out of bed.

Jackson was a boy with hair as wild as a tumbleweed and a heart as soft as a cloud. He lived in a house shaped like a teapot, with windows that winked like fireflies. But Jackson had one big dream: to catch the Bouncing Star. It wasn’t just any star—oh no! This star was a tiny, golden ball of light that zoomed around Glimmer-7 like a hyperactive puppy. The rule was simple: if you could catch it ten times in a row, it would grant you one wish. Whoosh! There it went again, leaving a trail of glittery stardust that tickled Jackson’s nose like fizzy soda bubbles.

"I’ll do it today!" Jackson declared, tying his shoelaces into knots (which was tricky because his fingers were as clumsy as octopus tentacles in mittens). He stretched his arms wide, ready to grab the star. Zoom! The Bouncing Star shot past him, so close he could smell its sparkly scent—like bubblegum mixed with lightning. Jackson lunged. Splat! He missed and face-planted into a pile of fluffy space moss. It felt like landing on a giant pillow, but his cheeks burned hotter than a dragon’s sneeze.

"One try down," Jackson muttered, spitting out a leaf that tasted like minty toothpaste. He tried again. Zing! The star ricocheted off his knee. Thud! He tripped over his own feet and landed in a puddle of liquid starlight. It was cold and slimy, like jelly left in the fridge too long. Gloop! His hands slipped as he tried to stand up. The Bouncing Star giggled and did a loop-de-loop around his head.

By the fifth try, Jackson’s hair was sticking up like a porcupine’s quills, and his socks were soaked in space dew. He could hear his neighbor, Mrs. Whiskerfluff the space cat, chuckling from her floating garden. "You’re doing it all wrong, dear," she purred, her tail flicking like a metronome. "You’re chasing it like a scaredy-mouse! The star wants to play—so play!"

Jackson blinked. Maybe Mrs. Whiskerfluff was right. He took a deep breath, smelling the buttery popcorn clouds drifting overhead. Instead of running after the star, he stood still. He wiggled his fingers like he was playing an invisible piano. Tinkle-tinkle! The Bouncing Star slowed down, curious. It hovered in front of him, pulsing like a heartbeat. Jackson grinned and—Grab!—he caught it! The star fizzed in his hands, warm and tingly, like holding a lightning bug.

"One!" Jackson cheered. The star wriggled free and zoomed off again. Whoosh! This time, Jackson didn’t chase. He danced. He spun in circles until he was dizzy, and the star mirrored his moves, weaving around him like a ribbon. Catch! Two! Then three! Four! By the seventh catch, Jackson’s laughter filled the air like bubbles in a soda bottle. The star’s glow reflected in his eyes, bright as a supernova.

On the ninth catch, Jackson’s shoelace came undone. Triiiip! He stumbled, but the star waited for him, bobbing gently like a balloon on a string. Jackson tied his lace with shaking fingers (still as clumsy as ever) and—Snap!—caught it again. Ten times! The star burst into a shower of golden confetti, swirling around him like a tornado of glitter. "You did it!" Mrs. Whiskerfluff yowled, clapping her paws. The confetti settled, and the star’s voice chimed in Jackson’s head like wind chimes: "What’s your wish?"

Jackson thought hard. He could wish for a mountain of candy, or a rocket to visit every planet, or even a pet space whale. But then he looked at his hands—still sticky from stardust, still trembling from the effort—and smiled. "I wish... for another Bouncing Star to play with tomorrow."

The star giggled, and the sky over Glimmer-7 shimmered with new light. Jackson flopped onto the space moss, his heart as light as a feather. The smell of cinnamon rolls wrapped around him like a hug, and the sound of the star’s laughter echoed in his ears. Boing! He bounced up, ready for another day of trying, failing, and trying again. Because that’s what dreams were made of—not just the catching, but the bouncing too.