Gemotions

The coach's words echoed in Maya’s ears, a low hum of static. "We need you at shortstop, Maya. Your speed, your arm… it'll be a game-changer." She forced a smile, the muscles in her face protesting. It felt unnatural, like wearing a too-small mask. All season she’d been comfortable, confident at second base, the position she’d poured her heart into mastering. Now this. A new position. A new set of skills to learn.

Her stomach felt hollow, as if the food she'd eaten hours before had simply vanished. She fiddled with the laces of her glove, a nervous habit that she hadn't realized she had until this moment. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. Each teammate seemed like a judging figure, assessing her future performance.

"You got this, May," her best friend, Sarah, whispered, her voice a comforting wave in the ocean of uncertainty. Maya managed a weak nod. But she didn't *got* this. Not yet. Not at all.