The day I had been waiting for had finally arrived. I studied my reflection in the passenger door mirror, mentally preparing myself for the all-important picture that would change my life. Every strand of my chocolate brown hair was perfectly in place; a small miracle, considering the humidity in the air.

As I looked at my face, sky-blue eyes stared back at me. My eyes wandered down to my outfit, and I heard my mom's voice interrupt my thoughts.
“Aren't you excited?” she asked me, sounding more pumped than I was.
“Sixteen years old already!” she continued, “You've grown up so fast!” My mother is well known for her so-called “talent” to burst into tears at any given moment, which was about to happen right now.
“I'm a little nervous,” I admitted.
“But I’m just scared my picture will be hideous!” I said, to try to make her laugh, although it didn’t work.
“Oh, Mom, it’ll be great! And don’t worry- it’s not like I’m going to run off every weekend and leave you alone,” I said to comfort her. I sighed, and as she blubbered on, I returned my attention to the mirror.
A couple hours later, I walked out of the driver's license facility with a big grin on my face.
I looked down at my new license and read “Reagan Ingersoll; DOB: 10/22/99; height: 5’7”; weight: 119 lbs”; and my hair and eye color written in official print.
Finally, I studied my new profile picture. Surprisingly, it looked great! My favorite coral colored shirt made my eyes pop, and my face had no blemishes.
Just then, my mom came bursting out the doors. “Ooh, let me see, let me see!” she exclaimed, snatching it from my hand.
Getting teary-eyed, she gasped, “Oh, honey! You look gorgeous! I'm so proud of you!” She then took the opportunity to suffocate me in one of her crushing hugs.
Wincing a bit, I managed to pull out of her embrace without being squeezed too bad.
“Oh, boy,” I teased. “Here come the waterworks!”
By now, she was full on crying.
“I'm just so proud of you!”
I gave her another hug and told her that I would have to drive her home if she didn't pull herself together.
  After a few more sniffles, she quit crying and immediately pulled out her cell phone to take a picture of me with my license.
“Cheese and crackers!” she exclaimed as she snapped a few pics. This was one of her funky phrases that she'd always used to get me to pay attention.
After what felt like eternity, she finally lowered her phone and said, “I'm sending this to ALL your relatives! Aunt Marge and Uncle Larry will be SO happy to see this!”
She rushed off in the general direction to where our car was parked, giddily mumbling to herself about more random relatives of mine. Sometimes I wondered what got into her. I hadn't even see those people since I was, like, two years old!
Sighing, I just shook my head and followed her to the car. Before I got there, however, she ran back up to me and told me to close my eyes. “I have a surprise for you!” she exclaimed.
She dropped the car keys into my hand, and said, “Open!”
“Oh, I get to drive you home?” I asked her, pleased that she was letting me drive. I opened my eyes, expecting to get into the car, but it wasn’t there.
“Um, Mom?” I asked, but that was before I saw the giant sign on the windshield of the vehicle in front of me. It read, “Happy 16th Birthday, Reagan!” in hot pink lettering.
I spun around to face my mom, not really daring to ask if what I was seeing was real. “Are you serious?” I gasped, blown away at my gift.
“You better take good care of that thing!” she demanded, before pulling me into a hug. I was speechless as I ran over to inspect my new ride.
It was the exact car I had always wanted--a light, pastel blue bug car, complete with a convertible top! I slid into the car, caressing the pristine black leather seats, stroking the shiny steering wheel, and experimentally testing the windows.
After a few seconds, I hopped out and ran over to my mom. “It’s perfect! I cried. “Thank you sooooooo much! You’re the best mom in the whole wide world!” I squeezed her as hard as I could, trying not to cry.
She held onto me, saying, “I knew you would love it! And you’re welcome, honey.”
When I let go, a thought hit me, and I shrieked, “Oooh, Mom, take a picture!” as I whipped out my phone. I posed with my new gift, whom I had named Maybelline, after my favorite makeup brand.
When I got my phone back, I started scrolling through the shots, changing the filters and highlighting certain areas. Eventually, I finished editing one of them, and I exclaimed, “This is TOTALLY Instagram worthy! It’ll look great on my feed!”
I quickly uploaded the pic onto my other social media accounts, and in just a few seconds, comments and likes were already trickling in. Immediately, I got a Snapchat from my best friend, Sadie, saying “CALL ME!!” with a bunch of emojis.
I sat back down on Maybelline’s seat, preparing for a long phone call with Sadie. She picked up on the first ring, and I had to hold the phone a good two feet away from my ear because she was talking so loud.
“REAGAN! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU GOT A CAR!!!” she screamed, clearly very excited for me. “OMG, I am SO mad at myself for being gone for your birthday!” Sadie was in Denver for the weekend because of her brother’s hockey tournament, and although she claimed that she hated it, I had seen her Instagram lately, all full of fancy hotel rooms and spas.
I started laughing at her reaction, and simply said, “Well, we’ll have to have a get-together when you get back! Maybe we can see a movie or something.”
We agreed to schedule a girls’ day in the near future, and she hung up after a while with a “well, have a FANTABULOUS birthday! Love ya, girlie!”
And I kept my promise to her to have an awesome birthday. Later that night, I was all filled up from my favorite chicken-tortilla soup and chocolate birthday cake, and had a bunch of new gadgets to mess with, besides Maybelline.
My dad had gotten me a volleyball net and ball to set up in the yard, which I was really happy to get, because I absolutely love volleyball. I also got some gift cards and cash from my grandparents, as well as a portable speaker.
As I lay down that night, I thought over the events of the day, from earning my license, to getting Maybelline, to eating a bunch of delicious food. And while I lay there, I thought, this day could not have gone any better.
About a week after my sixteenth birthday, volleyball championships rolled around. My coach had increased practice times to three hours a night, and practices were so intense, she had to send us home early one night after a particularly bad one.
The countdown slowly drained away, from a full seven days, to five, to three. Two days before the championships, I got about five inches taken off my hair. I figured with all the changes happening in my life, why not make a physical one?
Finally, the night before the game, I packed my bag, running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to find my uniform and a clean pair of socks.
I was so nervous that night that I could hardly sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, trying to get comfortable. Morning came too soon, though, once I finally got to sleep. My alarm began its daily rant with a heart-stopping beep, beep, beep!
My mom dragged me out of bed without too much trouble, mainly because I was excited for the day. Once my parents and I got into the car, the hour and a half car ride to Denver flew by. Before I knew it, we were there.
As I walked through the double doors to the gym, everything felt surreal. There were hundreds of people milling about; t-shirt and food vendors, fans, and players. I could practically smell the energy in the air!
      I made my way to my team's locker room, down on the floor. I was barely in the door when Sadie almost bowled over me.
“Reagan!” she shrieked, in her mad dash to hug me. “I am soooo happy that you're finally here! You have to tell me everything, from getting your license, to your party, to-- OMG!! I LOVE your hair!” she interrupted herself.
Laughing, I steadied myself from her energy attack and hugged her back.
“Nice to see you too!” I replied. Sadie is a little eccentric, and has the attention span of a flea. Not to mention we hadn’t seen each other for a good three days due to her having strep throat.
She fingered my newly-cut hair, which brushed a little bit past my shoulders, and kept talking, or rather, yelled. I guess that meant that her sore throat was gone!
“I haven’t seen you in, like, FOREVER!!! We totes have to hang out after the game! I’ll make you a bet--if you at least get a hand on every ball, I’ll buy you your favorite dessert at the deli!”
Her eyes gleamed mischievously, which made me ask, “So what if I don’t?”
“Then you buy me my favorite dessert. Double-fudge sundaes all the way!” she countered, smiling.
“Hmmm,” I pretended to think about it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her watching me, waiting for my reaction. I let her wonder for a few more seconds, just to watch her squirm.
Finally, I lowered my gaze to her, and said, “Well, I guess I’ll take the bet… I mean, it’s your loss, because I’m GOING TO WIN!”
“Yay!” Sadie squealed. “But you’re wrong-I’m going to win.”
Laughing, she hugged me again, and said, “It’s on! I’m so excited for the game!”
After we broke apart, we both changed into our volleyball uniforms and talked about the upcoming game. I'm so nervous… I'm going to have to play the best I've ever played in my life, I thought.
Finally, our coach, Marcy, came into the locker room to give us a pep talk.
  “Listen up, ladies!” she started, as the quiet hubbub of finding knee pads and water bottles dulled to silence.
“You don't need me to tell you that today is very important. Each and every one of you have already heard that from your parents, siblings, and each other.”
Marcy is a very no-nonsense person and a believer in tough love. But today, I can tell that she is barely holding it together.
“So what I want to tell you is that no matter the score at the end of this game, I am proud of you,” she continued. “I know that you girls will put everything you have into this game, and you have already worked so hard to get to where you are right now.”
“If you go out there and play like you know how to play, then we can win. I'm not going to lie to you; this team is good, and you know that. But so are we.”
“And no matter if we win or lose, each and every one of you should walk out of this arena with your heads held high.”
I could tell that this was her final push; the last hurrah.
“You girls are not only wonderful volleyball players, but you are all compassionate, hard working, strong, and most importantly, kindhearted.”
“And that is why you make up the BEST TEAM IN THE STATE. And you do not know how proud and thankful I am to have had the privilege to coach all of you.”
By now, everyone was teary-eyed. Marcy smiled at us with love in her eyes.
“Everyone in.”
The silence was momentarily broken by benches creaking and everyone standing up to put their hand in. Sadie caught my eye from across the huddle, and we smiled at each other.
“Team on three!” Marcy said.
“One, two, three, TEAM!” everyone yelled, the sound echoing through the locker room.
The next 10 warm-up minutes went quickly. I peppered with Sadie, was chosen head Captain by Marcy, and made all my serves over.
Finally, we lined up for the National Anthem, holding pinkies as usual. When I stood next to Sadie and another girl on my team, Elsie, everything suddenly hit me.
I'm standing on the biggest volleyball court I've ever played on, I thought. Here with my best friend, the best coach I've ever had, and the team that has become my family.
As I stood there on the serving line, I could sense everything happening around me. I could smell the new finish on the gym floor, hear Sadie’s breathing next to me, and see the bright pop of silver ribbon on Elsie’s ponytail.
I kept thinking: this is like a dream. I'm so privileged to be standing here right now. And before I knew it, the song was over, and I sat down for the starting lineup to be called.
I closed my eyes and thought about the following game. I envisioned all my serves hitting the holes in the other team's defense, receiving every hit, and having flawless passes.
Then, in the back of my mind, I heard, “Aaand, left back, number 28, Reagan Ingersoll!”
Without thinking, I threw myself off the bench for the last time this volleyball season, through the tunnel of outstretched arms, and gave the referees and coaches high fives.
Then, I ran back to the serving line with the rest of my teammates. The ref blew the whistle, and the biggest game of the season began.
The first match went pretty quickly, and we were floating on air. Our team played better than we had ever played before, with countless kills and aces. Our school band played during every time-out, and the fans went wild every time the ball went over the net.
The second match, however, was a different story. Like a lot of games, we had been too confident, and the other team came back more ready to play than ever. After about 15 points, we were neck in neck, each team battling it out for the lead. 
Sadie came up to serve and rattled off about 6 points, but a jump-server on the opposing team brought the score back to 21/20, with us winning. A few volleys later, the score was 24/24, and tension was running high.
After an amazing save from Elsie, we were winning by one point. The pressure was on, and everyone in the stadium felt it.
It was their turn to serve, and standing in the back row, I could’ve sworn that I caught the server’s eye before she tossed it. I swallowed nervously, and a drop of sweat trickled down my back. As soon as she made contact with the ball, I was filled with dread, knowing before the ball even crossed the net that it was coming to me.
Seeing that the ball was going to land behind me, I immediately drop stepped and ran backwards. My heart was beating out of my chest and my breathing was labored and shallow while I tracked the ball, feeling as if I were moving in molasses.
I tuned out everything around me; the crowd, my teammates, and the band, listening for the only voice I’d learned to trust.
“OUT! IT’S OUT!” I faintly heard Marcy scream from the bench. My hands were already in position, and I snatched them away as the ball whistled past my head, landing tremendously close to the line.
A whistle blew, and my breath caught as I looked reluctantly up at the ref for the call. It seemed as though the building itself was holding its breath, and was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
It was as if everything was happening in slow motion; the ref’s hands went up and I had to resist the urge to close my eyes. After what seemed like years, the call was made-- the ball was out.
Immediately, the crowd erupted with cheers and yells, but it didn’t register in my brain that we had won until Marcy came over and tackled me with a hug.
“YES!” she cried, tears streaming from her eyes. “THAT’S HOW YOU WIN A CHAMPIONSHIP!!” She stumbled away from me to congratulate another player, and moments later, Sadie rushed over.
When I turned around to see her, we both started screaming, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Eventually, Marcy managed to corral us enough to get us in line so we could shake hands.
The announcer came over and handed the trophy to Sadie and I, and we held it with pride as we took it over to the team. They mobbed us, everyone wanting to get a hand on our prized possession. The next thing I knew, fans ran onto the court to celebrate.
Kids from school, parents, teachers, everyone I knew was there, taking pictures and giving hugs. We took pictures with the trophy, hundreds of flashes blinding me. Eventually, my mom and dad somehow found their way over and congratulated me.
As usual, my mom was crying, clinging to my father and me as she whispered “I’m so proud of you!” in my ear. My father, who wasn’t a big hugger, clapped me on the back, and after a second or two, pulled me into a hug.
“I’m honored to have you as a daughter,” he said, and let me tell you, that moment with him was almost better than winning the championships altogether.
Three hours later, I sat with my parents, Marcy, and my entire team at a long table inside the local deli.
Marcy stood up and raised her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Listen up!” she barked. The talking and laughing died down within a few seconds, and she continued speaking. “I just wanted to say that I am so proud of these young ladies, and they have all grown and improved over the course of the season.”
“Today, you accomplished your ultimate goal, and you truly played your hearts out back in that stadium. I am very thankful to have been their coach, and I would also like to say thank you to all the parents for putting up with the crazy schedule.”
“So, again, congratulations on your fantastic win, and--” she paused for a moment, a big smile on her face. “Everything’s on me tonight!” Marcy finished, and we all cheered.
A mere minutes later, the deli was in a flurry of activity, as waitresses ran around, taking orders and delivering drinks. Everyone was talking happily, as moms gossiped, dads talked about the football game taking place the next weekend, and the team talked about the game.
After a while, Sadie came over to me, and said, “So much for the bet. I guess Marcy payed for all of us.”
“I’m glad that neither of us had to pay, but hey, I think we know who the real winner was,” I replied.
“Oh, I’m glad you finally agree that I won the bet!” Sadie exclaimed.
“Ha! Like you stood a chance!” I retorted.
Sadie laughed, putting her arm around me and saying, “In your DREAMS, Reagan.”
Suddenly, I gasped, feeling a sharp, shooting pain run through my head. I started to get dizzy, and everything around me started to spin. I couldn’t see Sadie anymore, or anyone. I didn’t even know where I was.
As the spinning slowed down, I heard one word echoing through my head, “dreams.” As fast as everything happened, it stopped. I could now sense that I was lying in a bed of some sort, with bright artificial lights shining above me. A tall man with a deep, muffled voice was talking to someone near me.
I listened closely, hearing him say, “As I was saying, it’s very normal for someone with brain damage to have unusual, modified lucid dreams, or hallucinations.” His words puzzled me, and I wondered what was going on.
I tried to raise my head, but it was almost as if I was paralyzed, and couldn’t move. Next, I tried to talk. An indecipherable noise came out of my mouth, and though it was very quiet, it was still enough to get the man’s attention.
“Reagan?” he asked, standing over me. He turned around for a brief second and beckoned to someone sitting behind him. Two people rushed over, their forms blurry as I tried to make my eyes adjust.
There was a woman standing on the left of a man, and as they gasped at me, everything became clear--it was my mom and dad. My mother looked like a wreck; her eyes were puffy and her face blotchy and red. My dad on the other hand, was looking as normal as always, with his arm around Mom’s shoulder protectively.
My mom put her hand on my forehead, and it was cool to the touch. “Reagan, honey? Can you hear me?”
I wondered, why would I not be able to hear her? I tried to reply, but all that came out was a small croak, though it was louder than the first time I tried to speak.
The tall man then used a phone on the wall and asked someone for water and something else that I was unfamiliar with. Moments later, more people rushed in and attached a water pump to one of the many tubes that were hooked up to me.
I looked down, surprised to see an IV in my arm and multiple tubes protruding out of other random places on my body. When I further studied my surroundings, I concluded that I was in a hospital, and the man who was talking to my parents was a doctor.
After a few minutes, my voice came back, and I managed to ask, “Where am I?”
“Reagan,” my mom started. My dad came to the other side of the bed and put his arm around me while my mom held my other hand in her own.
I should’ve known that something was wrong right at the get-go, considering my mom wasn’t crying anymore; not a tear in sight. My dad, however, looked to be on the verge of a breakdown, which wasn’t like him.
I looked nervously between the two, and my mom continued talking. “Do you know the date?”
“Of course,” I opened my mouth to answer, but suddenly realized that I couldn’t tell her. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember anything that happened in the last week.
My parents looked at each other, coming to a silent agreement about something, and my mom pressed on. “Today is October twenty-first. The day before your sixteenth birthday.”
“Wait, but I just had my sixteenth birthday,” I protested. My mom looked at me sadly, and I kept talking. “And I got my license, and my new car, Maybelline, and then we won state in volleyball, and everything was perfect! What do you mean that today is the twenty-first?”
She sighed, and shook her head. “Honey, none of that happened. You were imagining all of it in a dream, or a hallucination.”
I felt panicky, what does she mean, none of it happened?! It has to be real! Tears came to my eyes, and I shook my head in denial.
“Reagan, you’ve been in the hospital for two days,” she said softly. I closed my eyes, wanting to delay the inevitable that I somehow knew was coming. “And you just woke up from a coma.”