Gemotions

Sweat plastered Leo's dark hair to his forehead as he waited. The fluorescent lights of the gymnasium hummed, an irritating, unwavering buzz that echoed the frantic rhythm in his chest. Coach Miller’s office door, a bland, institutional beige, loomed like a gate he couldn't pass. He wrung his hands, the knuckles white. He’d seen the list posted in the locker room – the dreaded 'cut' list. His name wasn't on it. Relief, yes, but also… a sickening apprehension. He *knew* what this meant. He’d seen it before. The kids who made it weren't being called in. The ones who weren't?