locking our opposition up left and right. The struggles we suffered from came purely in the form of not fully anticipating how much of a gap there was between our team and the semi-pro team. Much like the Vipers, this team had nearly quadruple our team size, and though the starters remained pretty much the same, they could be a bit riskier in their actions because if someone got hurt, they had a backup on the bench. We were at max capacity on the field and had to be careful. When the clock was ticking down toward the final seconds, we were tied, and my team did not have the stamina to go into overtime.
“We’re in field goal range,” Cal said with a sigh during our final timeout. “If we do it, you guys gotta keep ‘em tied up, though. If they kick a field goal, too, we’re into overtime.”
“We can’t do overtime,” I said and then held up my hands. “Sorry, Coach—”
“Don’t,” he growled. “This has been your team for this long. I’m still learning. Lay it on me.”
“We don’t have the stamina for it. I mean, Jansen and Mala probably do, but we can’t all be superheroes.” They smiled at me, and it felt good. It’d been a while since my team seemed happy with me. “I know it’s a risk, but we need to push and try and get the touchdown. It’ll take up more time, and if we can get the conversion, it’d end it. They’d never be able to get another touchdown in that time.”
“It’s fourth down,” Cal said.
“I know it’s risky, but I think we can do it.” I pointed at Lila and Jazz. “We need you guys. All I need is a hole.”
Jazz looked over at Lila, and she was still permeating with anger. She looked back at me and shrugged. “I think we can do it.”
“Okay.” I nodded at Cal, and he nodded back.
“You heard your captain. Lock them up and get her through. This is the difference between a win and a loss.”
The whistle blew, signifying the end of our timeout, and we made our way back out onto the field. My body was screaming at me to stop, but I disregarded it. We didn’t have much longer, and all it would take was one final push. We could do it.
The whistle blew, and I waited for Kris to hike the ball. Finally, she lobbed it between her legs and back to me, and when I started to back up, I took small steps. I scanned the field like I was looking for a receiver, and the defense was all over Jansen as our resident speed trap, but I was secretly keeping my attention on the wall in front of me, waiting for a crack. Finally, Lila slammed into two of the other team’s players and knocked them back. Jazz filed in and took another out the other way, and the small space lit up like a target in a video game.
I flew forward and charged at the opening. A few of the other team’s players noticed me running and collapsed immediately, but they weren’t fast enough. I bolted through the hole and broke out into the open field behind the guards. Those trying to shut down the receivers noticed me running, but their reaction time was too slow. I fed myself in and out of them, and when one of them came to a stop directly in front of me, I ran straight at them, ducking my shoulder and knocking them out of the way. I flew over the final yard line and into our end zone for a touchdown.
Those Widows closest to me closed in to pat my helmet and back, and relief soared through me. We were up by one touchdown, and the clock was inside of two minutes and still running down.
“Reset!” I screamed, and the Widows rushed into place, preparing for a two-point conversion. The spectators were roaring around me, and when the whistle blew, the ball snapped back almost immediately. Jansen and Mala peeled out, and we effectively confused the defense. They all rushed toward me for a sack, so I threw the ball, just barely getting it over the player guarding Jansen, and it sailed right into her hands safely inside the end zone.
“Yes!” I cried.
No one moved to kick off the ball. There was no point. The other team would never get eight points in less than a minute. When the clock finally