Gemotions

"We're moving you to center field, Jackson." The announcement was accompanied by a pat on the back, a gesture that felt less like encouragement and more like a patronizing slap. Jackson’s stomach clenched. He’d spent his entire high school career at second base. It was his domain, his comfort zone.

He looked at the dusty field, the bright sun casting long shadows. He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a telltale sign of his growing unease.

He pushed his hat further down, trying to shield his face from the sun and, perhaps, the judgment he felt radiating from his teammates. They were all grinning, offering platitudes. He clenched his jaw, the muscles tight.

He crossed his arms, staring at the perfectly manicured grass of center field. He wanted to scream.