Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Maya’s brow as the coach called her over. She’d been killing it at point guard, feeding perfect passes, sinking shots with ease. Now, this? He wanted her to try center? She shoved a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the action jerky. “Coach, I’m good where I am,” she said, her voice a little sharper than she intended. She drummed her fingers on her thigh. The clock ticked, taunting her.

He explained his reasoning, blah, blah, blah, something about team needs. She nodded, pretending to listen, but her focus kept drifting to the other players already practicing their drills. She bounced on the balls of her feet, a nervous energy buzzing through her. She wanted to prove her point, show him how wrong he was, and then get back to doing what she did best. This delay felt unbearable.