Gemotions

She stood on the bench, watching the team warm up. A knot tightened in Maya's chest as she realized she wouldn't be starting at point guard. Coach Henderson had called her aside after practice yesterday, explaining they needed a more aggressive presence at the position. He was moving her to shooting guard. Her stomach churned.

The court, usually a sanctuary, felt alien. The familiar squeak of sneakers on the polished wood was now a discordant rhythm. She watched the other point guard, a fresh face, effortlessly dribbling past the defense. Maya’s hands fidgeted with the hem of her practice shorts. She remembered all the hours of practice she had devoted to mastering her court vision and her passing skills.

As the game began, she slumped down on the bench. Each point scored by her opponent felt like a personal failure. Her breath hitched in her throat every time the other girl drove to the basket. She clenched her fists, each muscle in her body tense. A part of her wished that she could leave the court, but another part knew she couldn't.