Gemotions

The clipboard shook in Maya’s hand as she reread the list. Her name wasn’t there. Not on the Varsity team, not even on the Junior Varsity. The coach’s smile seemed too wide, too bright, as he clapped her on the shoulder. “Tough luck, Maya. Better luck next year.” The words felt hollow. She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. Something felt off, like a discordant note in a familiar song. She watched him walk away, then pivoted and headed toward the locker room, her steps heavy and measured.

The air in the locker room felt thick, oppressive. She avoided looking at any of the girls. Especially not at Sarah, who was celebrating with a loud victory scream. Maya had always been faster, more consistent, but Sarah had been buddy-buddy with the coach. Maya’s gaze flickered to Sarah’s duffel bag. Why was Sarah carrying that particular bag today? The very same one the coach used to bring his lunch.

A tingling sensation crawled up her spine. She sat on the bench and stared out the window, watching the practice field empty. The grass seemed less green, the sun less warming. She picked at a loose thread on her jeans, her knuckles bone-white.