Gemotions

The coach's words hung in the air, thick and heavy. Maya's stomach plummeted. "We think you'd be a great fit at shortstop, Maya," he'd said. Her hands, usually steady as she gripped her bat, started to tremble. This was her senior year, her chance to shine as a pitcher. All those grueling practices, the hours spent perfecting her curveball, suddenly felt… pointless. She forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like thin ice.

The other girls on the team were chatting, oblivious, but Maya could barely breathe. Shortstop? She didn't know the first thing about playing the infield. Her head throbbed, a dull ache that intensified with each passing second. She excused herself and practically ran to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to stop the pounding in her chest.