The gym smelled like rubber and old sneakers. Emma stood at the edge of the line-up, clutching a basketball. It bounced once. Twice. Then skittered away from her.
It wedged between the bleachers. From across the room, the coach called out, "Emma — you're on trampoline duty!"
Emma marched to the equipment rack and pulled out a foam mat. She set it down with a determined scuff-scuff, then looked at the trampoline. The other kids were already laughing and bouncing. She stepped one foot onto the rim. Her sneaker squeaked. She stepped back.
She counted under her breath — one, two, three — and jumped onto the edge. It wobbled dangerously, then shot her sideways into a stack of soft gym mats with a spectacular whump.
A boy nearby snorted so hard he nearly dropped his water bottle. Emma lay still for a moment, then peeled herself off the mat with a grin she didn't plan to make.
On sports day, Emma lined up at the gymnastics mat for the balance beam. She's never touched a beam before. She placed her left foot, then her right — wobble, wobble, steady.
She walked the full length with her arms wide like airplane wings. At the far end, she leaped off and landed on both feet with a loud stomp. "Try it again!" she said. "I want to try it again!"
The relay race was next. Emma stood at the starting line wearing a bright yellow sash — her team's final runner. The whistle blew. She took off, sneakers drumming against the track.
She wasn't the fastest, but she didn't slow down. Her team cheered from the sidelines. She ran until her legs burned and the finish line filled her vision.
When she crossed the finish line, her team erupted — even though they didn't win. Emma held her head high and her yellow sash flapped in the wind.
Her sneakers drummed against the track. She wasn't the fastest, but she didn't slow down. The yellow sash fluttered behind her like a flag.
She held her head high. The yellow sash flapped in the wind. She had run the whole way. That was enough.