Gemotions

The swim team captain, Mark, had always been the golden boy. He was talented, and the coach adored him. Now, he was going to the championships, and I, Liam, wouldn't. The letter sat on his desk, a cruel emblem of his perceived inadequacy. A knot of disgust tightened in his gut.

He slammed his fist against the desk, sending pens and pencils scattering across the surface. The wood was solid, unyielding, much like the wall he felt he'd hit. He got up and kicked his chair across the room, the sound a release of the pressure.

He would find a way to make Mark's victory not so easy. His mind began to formulate plans, schemes, anything to diminish the other boy's glory.