Rebound the Bright

Rebound had not always bounced back.

When she was small, getting bumped crushed her. One piece sent home, and she'd give up on the whole game — flop down, defeated, sure that being knocked all the way back to the start meant she'd already lost. She'd let the setback become the ending, again and again, quitting the moment she got hit, certain she just wasn't good enough to recover.

An old otter, bright-eyed and bouncy even with a chipped whisker, slid up beside her one evening. "You treat a bump like the end of the world," she said, "but it's just a detour. Watch." She'd been bumped too — and she rolled, found an open door, and sailed her piece right back in. "See? Back in the game. Getting sent home stings, sure — you lose some ground. But it doesn't beat you unless you LET it, by giving up." She nudged Rebound. "Everybody gets bumped, little one. Everybody. The difference isn't who gets hit — it's who keeps looking for the open door, and comes back in, and keeps sailing. Don't stay down. Bounce back."

Rebound learned to bounce back — to treat a bump as a detour, find the open door, and sail right back in instead of quitting — and the games she'd been throwing away turned into voyages she finished. The crushed, knocked-out feeling brightened into a springy, keep-going resilience. She'd never been too weak to recover. She'd only been giving up, when she could have bounced back in.

She walked to PipQuest when she was old enough, because it was a place for voyagers who could take a knock and keep sailing.

Peg, the mentor, met her at the dock and asked her to show what she knew.

Rebound didn't say clever things. Peg bumped one of her pieces, sending it all the way home — and instead of drooping, Rebound just looked for the open doors, rolled, and sailed her piece right back into the game, bright and undaunted.

"You came right back," Peg said.

"Getting bumped isn't the end," Rebound said. "It's a detour. I just find the open door and sail back in. Everybody gets hit; I don't stay down."

Peg smiled. "You belong here."

A young sparrow came to Rebound one afternoon, ready to give up.

"I got BUMPED," the sparrow said miserably, "sent all the way back to the start, so I lost. Right? Once you get hit, you might as well quit."

Rebound knew that crushed feeling all the way down. She'd quit the moment she got hit, once.

"You didn't lose," Rebound said, bright. "You just got sent to the waiting spot. Watch — you roll to come back in. See these open doors in her home waters? Roll a number that matches one, and you're right back on the board." The sparrow rolled, found an open spot, and hopped back in, blinking. "You're... back? Just like that? But I thought getting bumped meant I was done!"

"Getting bumped just means a detour," Rebound said warmly. "You lost a little ground, sure. But you're still in the voyage. The only real way to lose from a bump is to give up. Find the open door, come back in, keep sailing." The sparrow played on, bouncing back from every hit now, and finished the game.

"I kept getting bumped," she said, amazed, "and I kept coming back, and I still finished! Getting hit didn't beat me!"

"Because you didn't let it," Rebound said. "Everybody gets bumped. The bright ones bounce back."

The sparrow bounced back from every setback after that, and her ready-to-quit feeling turned into a springy, bright grin.