Gemotions

The clipboard felt like it weighed a ton in Maya’s hands. She hadn’t dared look at the other gymnasts, the ones who had made the advanced squad. Her stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each passing second. She mumbled a “thank you” to Coach Peterson, her voice barely a whisper, and quickly ducked away, making a beeline for the bathroom. The fluorescent lights seemed to buzz louder than usual. She locked the stall door and slumped against it, the cheap plastic cool against her flushed cheek.