Gemotions

The clipboard felt like a lead weight in Maya's hand. The fluorescent lights of the gym seemed to hum with a sickly energy, amplifying the hollow thud in her chest. Her name wasn't on the roster. It wasn't even on the alternate list. She crumpled the paper, the edges biting into her palm, and tossed it into the nearest trash bin. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth, as if she'd bitten her cheek. She avoided eye contact with Coach Miller and stormed toward the locker room, the familiar scent of sweat and liniment suddenly nauseating.