The humid air of the gym hung heavy as Liam watched the team celebrate. Confetti rained down on them, reflecting the bright fluorescent lights. A hollow ache formed in his stomach. He’d put everything into this. Hours upon hours of practice, sacrifices of parties and weekends, all for a spot on the varsity basketball team. Now, he was relegated to the tryout players, the forgotten ones. He gripped his water bottle so hard his knuckles turned white. His gaze lingered on the jerseys – the crisp new ones, a vibrant blue that mocked him with its success.
He found himself avoiding eye contact with Coach Miller, unsure if he could offer the man a congratulations. The coach's congratulations now felt like a punch to the gut. Liam mumbled something about needing to find his gear and turned away, his shoulders slumping. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, a burning sensation he fought to ignore.
He quickly changed and left the gym. He found himself walking past the team's victory party, a low hum of laughter and celebration seeping out the open windows. He quickened his pace, desperate to be out of earshot. The joyful noise was like a sharp knife twisting in his gut.