Chapter One

Part 3

“Third and twenty? What the hell, you guys?” I seethed in the huddle, hoping my teammates would pick up on my ardor and use it. We were on the Wildcats’ forty-five, when two minutes ago we had been on their twenty-five. One minute we were driving down the field, the archetypal dominant offense, and the next we were the complete antithesis of that. I couldn’t afford to let my team get apathetic on me now. This game was too important—to me and to our record. “No more penalties, all right? They’re killing us. Any one of you guys jumps early, you’re gonna have me to answer to, you got me?”

The offensive line grumbled their assent. I could hear Morris Johnson, my center, heaving for breath across the huddle.

“Good. Now let’s take it to these guys. Their pass rush is for crap. We’re better than them, right?” I said.

They all cheered their approval.

“Right! Now we’re gonna run the twenty-yard hook. Daryl, get open. You guys give me time, and we’ll get six outta this, okay?”

“Yeah!” a few of the guys cheered.

“Ready? Break!”

We moved out of the huddle up to the line of scrimmage. The home crowd was louder than it had been all day. We were down by a deficit of three points with two minutes to go. This down was everything. I could practically feel the scouts breathing down my neck, scrutinizing my every move.

“Blue, sixteen! Blue, sixteen!” I shouted, checking the defensive line, trying to discern their strategy. They were definitely coming on the blitz. “Hike!”

The ball hit my hands. The two lines slammed into one another. Helmets cracked, groans spilled out from behind mouth guards and clenched teeth. All I could do was hope my line would not succumb, or I was toast. I scanned the field over the linebackers’ heads. The cornerback was all up in Daryl’s face. Something flashed in the corner of my eye. A defender had broken through. I tucked the ball and ran left, just avoiding the tackle. The guy tumbled to the ground, reaching for my feet. He got a hand on my ankle, but I twisted away. I scurried all the way to the sideline. Down field, Daryl executed a deft spin move, and his defender ate dirt. I pulled back to throw and said a prayer. Another defender was coming right at me full tilt, so I let it fly. The moment the ball left my fingers, this monstrous dude slammed into me and drilled me into the ground.

Time stood still. I couldn’t breathe. The dude shoved me farther into the earth as he stood up, but his extra punishment didn’t matter. The bleachers exploded in a frenzied cheer, melodious to my ears. Daryl had caught the ball. Touchdown!

Curtis ran over, cheering in jubilation, and yanked me to my feet. I sputtered and coughed and drew in a breath. Everyone was slapping me on the back and helmet, shaking me and hugging me. We rushed off the field and Danny Leonard kicked the extra point. It was good. The whole place was going nuts, and I couldn’t stop grinning if I’d tried. I had just completed a 45-plus yard touchdown pass under extreme pressure with the game on the line. I knew the scouts were loving it. I had just justified their making this trip to see me play.

As our kicking team took the field to kick off, I turned and found Marcy on the sidelines. There she was in her red and black cheerleading uniform, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking every bit as gorgeous as an MTV backup dancer. She waved and blew me a kiss, and I felt like I was on top of the world. Life just didn’t get any better than this.