Gemotions

He stared at the whiteboard, the diagram of plays swimming before his eyes. "You're moving to center forward, Liam," Coach Johnson had announced, his voice matter-of-fact. Liam, the team's defensive midfielder, felt a knot tighten in his chest. Attack? He’d always been the one to shut down attacks, not initiate them.

A sudden, prickly heat crawled up his neck. He felt like he had a permanent shadow over his shoulder. The thought of sprinting, of trying to score, seemed an impossible task, a hill too steep to climb. He hadn't asked for this, hadn't wanted this.

He went through the motions at practice, but he was clumsy, awkward. The ball felt foreign at his feet. His teammates’ casual words of encouragement felt like taunts. His usual confidence had shriveled, hidden from the world.