Gemotions

The rhythmic thump of the volleyball hitting the floor normally soothed Amelia. Today, it grated on her nerves. She was a setter, the orchestrator of the team's offense, and she was being asked to become a hitter.

“Amelia, you’ve got the power, we need more offense." Coach Wilson's voice was bright, but Amelia found herself bristling. The familiar, comfortable role, the strategy she'd perfected, was being ripped away.

She felt a sharp sting in her chest. She forced a smile, but her voice was flat when she replied. Her hands itched.

The net seemed to loom over her, a barrier she didn’t know how to cross.