The voice speaks over a vision of colorful bouncy balls that plummet from overcast skies and shoot back up after striking the pickled-corn pavement. “Wake up, Piper.” I look around, but the disturbingly familiar voice has no body and the balls continue to shower around me. It strikes me then that none have come near enough to graze me. I stick out a hand. A blur of Blue speeds toward it and I hold my breath, but the ball comes to a screeching halt bare inches from my fingers and then swings wide and continues to the pavement. Its impact scatters bright yellow kernels, and it bounces back up, though with less force than the other balls. I compromised its momentum. “Oops,” I murmur when it stalls above my head. It drops again. And blows a raspberry at me over its shoulder. I don’t think that’s possible… When it grips my shoulder and shakes me, I swat at it, but it shakes me again. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, “but you were in my airspace.” “Your airspace?” the ball says in a very masculine voice.
