“That damned volleyball won’t shut up,” Marcus muttered, pressing his palms against his ears. The incessant bouncing echoed through the empty gymnasium, a rhythmic thudding that had persisted for three nights straight.

Sarah, the night janitor, rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again, aren’t you?” But even as she spoke, the hollow sound of rubber meeting hardwood filled the darkness.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“There it goes again!” Marcus’s voice cracked. “Ever since that championship game last week, when Jennifer…” He trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“When Jennifer Thompson mysteriously vanished during the final serve,” Sarah completed grimly. “I remember. The whole school’s been talking about nothing else.”

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting angular shadows across the court. In the corner, a volleyball rolled slowly into view, seemingly of its own accord.

“Oh God,” Marcus whispered. “Sarah, tell me you’re seeing this too.”

The ball stopped, then began spinning in place. A faint giggle echoed through the gymnasium – distinctly feminine, disturbingly familiar.

“Jennifer?” Sarah called out tentatively. “Is that you?”

The giggling grew louder, and the volleyball shot straight up into the air, hovering at serving height.

“I never got to finish my serve,” a voice whispered, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. “The game isn’t over.”

Marcus, despite his terror, couldn’t help but snort. “Are you serious? You’re haunting us because of an unfinished volleyball game?”

The ball dropped to the floor with a definitive thud. The ghostly voice gained an indignant tone: “It was the state championships! Do you know how hard we worked to get there?”

Sarah and Marcus exchanged bewildered looks.

“Jennifer,” Sarah ventured, “you’re not… actually dead, are you?”

There was a pause, then the sound of someone clearing their throat. The gym storage room door creaked open, and Jennifer Thompson stepped out, still in her volleyball uniform, looking rather sheepish.

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “I got locked in the storage room during the game. My phone was in my locker, and well… I’ve been practicing my serves at night while waiting for someone to find me.”

“For a week?” Marcus exclaimed.

“There’s a water fountain and vending machine in here!” Jennifer defended. “And I was really hoping to perfect my jump serve.”

Sarah burst into laughter. “All this time, we thought you were a ghost, and you were just… practicing volleyball?”

“The mysterious giggling?” Marcus asked.

“I get giggly when I’m sleep-deprived,” Jennifer shrugged. “Look, can we just get some food? The vending machine only has granola bars, and I’m dying for a pizza.”

As they left the gymnasium, Marcus couldn’t resist: “So, should we call you Volleyball Ghost or Storage Room Spirit?”

Jennifer punched his arm playfully. “Call me either, and I’ll serve a ball straight at your head – very much alive and in person.”

The noisy volleyball that had terrified the school for a week finally fell silent, though Jennifer’s legend lived on – not as the ghost of the gymnasium, but as the girl who turned a storage room lockout into an impromptu training camp.

And she did, eventually, perfect that jump serve.