Danny’s feet thumped down the hall like drumbeats.

“Room time,” Dad said gently. “You were too wild. You knocked over the plant.”

Danny’s cheeks felt hot. His hands were tight. His tummy buzzed like a jar of angry bees.

“I don’t care!” Danny shouted, even though he did.

His bedroom door clicked shut.

Danny stared at his bed, his rug, his bookshelf. Everything looked normal. Too normal.

He crossed his arms and huffed. “Fine,” he told the air. “I’ll be the wildest in here.”

He kicked his sock off. It landed on his pillow like a tiny, defeated flag.

Then something strange happened.

The rug rippled like a pond. The bookshelf creaked like a tall tree. Green vines slithered from under the bed and climbed the walls.

A warm jungle smell filled the room—mud, leaves, and sweet fruit.

Danny’s eyes went wide.

His lamp stretched into a twisty vine-lantern. His curtains turned into enormous fern fronds. Even his stuffed lion, Mr. Roary, blinked once… and blinked again.

Mr. Roary climbed to his feet. “Raaah?” he asked, as if he had forgotten how to be quiet.

Danny’s anger swelled, then burst into something else.

Power.

He climbed onto his bed, now a mossy stump.

“I am Danny!” he declared. “King of this jungle room!”

A chorus of rustles answered him. Three creatures marched from behind the dresser.

First came a stripey lizard the size of a chair, wearing a bottle-cap crown.

Second came a feathered cat with two tails, purring like a tiny engine.

Third came a tall, serious gorilla with glasses and a vine tie.

The gorilla bowed. “I am Professor Grumble,” he said. “We heard a loud roar. Is there trouble?”

Danny puffed up his chest. “Yes! The trouble is… I’m mad!”

Mr. Roary sat by Danny’s toes, tail thumping a steady, loyal beat.