Gemotions

The coach's words slammed into Maya like a rogue volleyball. "We need you at libero, Maya. Starting next week." Her jaw tightened. She gripped the water bottle so hard, the plastic creaked. After years of perfecting her outside hitting, after countless hours honing her power, they wanted her... to *dig*?

She blinked rapidly, trying to keep her composure. "With all due respect, Coach," she began, her voice tight, "I'm the team's top scorer. Why change what's working?" Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against her thigh. Sunlight glinted off the polished gym floor, a stark contrast to the sudden, icy feeling spreading through her chest.

Later, during the drills, she deliberately missed a spike, letting the ball bounce harmlessly off her shoulder. The satisfying thud of it hitting the ground did little to quell the rising fury.