Gemotions

She stared at the clipboard, her name circled in bright red ink. Next to it, "Right Field" was scribbled, a position she'd never even considered. All season, it had been the catcher. Her fingers twitched, as though expecting a mitt to be there.

Her palms slicked with sweat, making the grip on her bat feel strange and unfamiliar. The sun beat down, turning the field into a shimmering expanse. How could she possibly do this?

"Ready to give it a shot, Sarah?" Coach's voice boomed across the field. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly parched. “Yes, sir," she squeaked, the sound barely audible above the rustle of the wind.