Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Maya's forehead as she replayed the coach's words in her head. "We're going in a different direction," he had said, but she knew the coded language. It meant she hadn't made the team. She sat on the curb outside, meticulously picking at a loose thread on her worn running shoe. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, a smell she usually loved. Now, it just felt mocking. She listened to the distant thud of a basketball and the shouts of the remaining players. She hadn't missed a single conditioning session all summer. Why? A question that circled in her mind, a hawk over prey. Every car that passed seemed to slow down, the drivers staring. She straightened her back, and then stood. She began to jog in place.