Gemotions

Sweat slicked Maya’s palms as Coach Miller clapped her on the shoulder. “Maya, you’re a natural athlete. We need you at catcher. You’ve got the arm, the presence.” Her stomach gave a lurch. She’d spent her life perfecting her batting stance, dreaming of stealing bases. Now, the coach wanted her to wear the gear, take the throws.

She forced a smile. “Sure, Coach. Whatever you need.” But inside, a coldness spread. She watched the other catchers practice, their bulky equipment and stooped postures alien. Later, during practice, when the first pitch whizzed past, her legs felt like lead. Each pop of the ball against the mitt echoed in her chest.