Gemotions

"Just breathe," Maya muttered under her breath, staring at the uneven floorboards of the basketball court. Her palms were slick with sweat. The squeak of shoes and the rhythmic thud of the basketballs felt like a relentless drumbeat against her skull. She used to love the court, the feeling of the ball in her hands, the exhilarating freedom of the game. Now, it was a battleground.

Coach had moved her from point guard to center. Her height was the reason, he'd said. They needed someone to rebound. She had barely played center, and her shooting skills, carefully honed over years, felt useless.

The other girls were laughing, joking. She saw their glances and the pity in their eyes. The ball thudded against the hardwood. She felt leaden, slow. Her body ached with a fatigue that had nothing to do with the physical strain of the drill.