Gemotions

Sweat erupted on Amelia’s forehead as Coach Johnson called her over. Her stomach clenched. The humid air of the gymnasium felt suddenly thick, suffocating. He’d barely made eye contact, just gestured towards the whiteboard where a new lineup, scrawled in hurried marker, was visible. Amelia's name, next to “Center Back.” Center Back? She’d always been a striker, always relied on her speed, her ability to get behind the defense.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck, forming a dry lump in her throat. She glanced at the other girls, their faces already set, focused. This was it. She could practically taste the chalk dust and the upcoming game.

The whistle blew. Amelia felt a cold wash over her, a sudden, chilling dread. She jogged onto the pitch, legs leaden, eyes darting from side to side.