Time-Out by W. C. Mack

sigh of relief.
    When I made it safely to the gym, I discovered it was buzzing with activity. I found a table loaded with name tags and other paraphernalia, so I carefully filled out a tag and made a check mark next to my name on the registration list.
    â€œThis is going to be so cool!” the guy behind me blurted when I passed him the pen.
    â€œWhat is?” I asked.
    â€œUh, Multisport camp?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
    â€œYou
wanted
to come to this one?” I asked, stunned.
    He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Well, I didn’t want to spend a whole week playing just baseball or basketball or whatever.”
    â€œYou didn’t?”
    â€œNah. I already do that in gym class.”
    He had a point. “Sure, but—”
    â€œI mean, we get to do
pole vaulting here
. How cool is that?”
    How
cool
?
    It was lukewarm, at best.
    Never mind
terrifying
.
    When I didn’t say anything, he shrugged. “See you around.”
    â€œSure,” I said as he walked away.
    â€œMan, I’m so glad we get to play soccer this year,” I heard someone behind me say.
    â€œPretty awesome,” another voice agreed. “Remember how much fun football was last time?”
    â€œ
You
liked football,” the first guy said. “I liked swimming.”
    â€œDid I tell you that when my brother came a couple of years ago they had karate?”
    â€œSweet! Maybe it’ll be back next year.”
    Excitement continued to fill the air around me and I wished I could gather some enthusiasm of my own.
    Most of the rows were filled with kids, but I found a seat near the back and took it.
    If I’d been attending a class, I would have been disappointed by the poor location, but Multisport Sampler camp was something else entirely. Disappearing at the rear of the crowd suited me perfectly.
    The redheaded boy sitting on my left offered me a piece of gum when I sat down. I took one, hoping it wasn’t some kind of a hint about my breath.
    â€œI can’t believe I’m actually here,” he said, grinning.
    I sighed. “Neither can I.”
    Apparently, my tone was lost on him and the dark clouds of doom above my head were not visible to the naked eye. He actually raised his hand for a high five.
    Sighing again, I gave him one.
    While I waited for Orientation to begin, I took the time to study my surroundings. The building was architecturally beautiful and filled with a natural glow from countless skylights in the ceiling.
    It would have been the perfect place to sit and read.
    â€œWelcome, campers!” a voice boomed from the front of the room.
    An assortment of adults stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the crowd, all wearing camp hats. Their smiles were as big and bright as the ones I saw on the faces of every camper.
    Every camper but one, anyway.
    I took a deep breath, then muttered, “And so it begins.”
    â€œWhat?” the boy next to me whispered.
    â€œNothing,” I told him.
    For the next twenty minutes, I listened to earnest talk about stretching our limits, trying new things, and having “a blast” doing it. Again, I wished the energy was contagious, but all I could think about was how many minutes were left before soccer began.
    How many minutes of anonymity could I enjoy before everyone at camp found out that I didn’t belong there?
    As the adults addressed the group, I wished for at least the tenth time that I’d stood up to Owen and demanded the Hoopsters spot, if only for the sake of it being a familiar sport. Of course, I knew that basketball wouldn’t have solved anything for me. Putting a big orange ball through a hoop wouldn’t erase my total and utter failure at state.
    Nothing would.
    The truth was, I’d come to the horrible conclusion that my Masters of the Mind career was over. The team needed someone who would come through for them when it counted.
    They