Gemotions

The locker room buzzed, a hive of nervous energy, but for Leo, it was a symphony. His cleats felt like extensions of his feet, itching to burst onto the freshly cut grass. He bounced on the balls of his feet, humming a tuneless song, a constant tremor of excitement running through him. Today was tryouts day. He clutched his water bottle, the plastic cool against his palm. He was ready.

Coach Miller, a mountain of a man with a perpetually stern face, called for silence. Leo leaned forward, heart thudding a steady beat against his ribs. The coach began to speak, the words lost in Leo's eager anticipation. He was going to make the team. He could feel it. The way the sun warmed his face, the taste of air in his lungs, it all pointed towards victory.

“Okay, everyone who’s name I call, come forward.” Each name was a pinprick of tension, each skipped name a moment of relief. Then came his name. "Leo Maxwell." He grinned, a wide, unstoppable grin.