You always told yourself that winning didn’t matter—that it was about having fun and bonding with your teammates. But right now? You weren’t so sure.

It had been months since you were moved from the A team down to the B team, and the sting of it still hadn’t faded. All your friends? Gone. Your confidence? Completely shattered. Chris knew how much it hurt you, though you never fully admitted it. He always tried to remind you that you were good enough. That just because you didn’t get the highest team doesn’t mean your bad. But how could you believe that when you couldn’t even prove it to yourself?

The game was slipping away, and you felt like it was your fault. Every mistake you made felt bigger than the last. The ball hit the floor, another point lost, and you swore you could feel the frustration radiating from your teammates. Your chest tightened.

You had to shake it off.

But you couldn’t. You lost and you felt like it was all your fault.

You stood in the huddle as your coach spoke, but you weren’t listening. Your mind was too loud. You stared at the floor, blinking rapidly, trying to fight off the tears threatening to spill over. You couldn’t let them see you like this. Not your teammates, not your coach—no one. You can’t let them know you want to be on a different team.

Chris saw you struggling and ran after you after you made a beeline for the bathroom. When you got in there you tried to compose yourself but the second Chris touched you, you collapsed into him.