a whispered Let’s go Wildcats! cheer. This time, Ali’s hand is smack-dab in the center, as if held by every single one of her teammates.
The girls skitter through the dark, squatting behind trees and parked cars, spreading out through the night. Footsteps dulled by the runways of grass between sidewalk and pavement. Most houses dark. Quiet of crickets. An airplane high overhead.
Grace and Ali pause behind a tree and scope out the scene from a few houses away.
All the downstairs lights are off. One upstairs room flickers, the flashing blue light of a television.
Ali shares a nod with Grace and the two creep forward, prowling low past hedges and trash cans and parked cars, until they are each clutching slats of the white picket fence. Peering into the yard, Ali sees a little doghouse, a water dish, some chew toys. But no sign of the actual bulldog.
“Here, puppy, puppy,” Ali whispers.
“I guess their coach actually does bring him in for the night,” Grace says.
Ali gives a soft whistle.
Nothing.
She unwraps the granola bar and waves it around so he can smell it.
Nothing.
Ali looks over her shoulder. All the eyes glowing in the dark. What will their confidence be like tomorrow, knowing they walked right up to the edge of this moment, with all they had to prove, and then froze? Ali knows better than anyone. She’s never quite recovered.
On the field, she is her team’s last line of defense. If she can’t deliver, the Wildcats don’t have a chance. She let them down once. She will not let it happen again.
“I’m going around back.”
Grace looks nervous but she still follows Ali, and together the girls sneak around the side of the house. They peer over the rear fence, but the bulldog isn’t in the backyard, either. Ali does, however, spot a doggy door flap on the back door.
An idea comes to Ali hard and fast and sudden, a wave breaking on the shore, pulling away everything else in her mind. Coach talked about having a strong mental game earlier tonight. She is laser focused. She whispers to Grace, “Let me see if I can lure him outside.”
Grace, for the first time, looks worried. “Ali, please. This was a dumb idea. I’m sorry I said anything!”
“Stay here and tell me if any lights come on.”
Ali opens the back gate and silently tiptoes into the yard. She shakes her car keys ever so quietly as she ascends a short set of back stairs. She’s got her granola bar outstretched. “Here, puppy, puppy,” she whispers. “Where’s the good doggy?”
A low growl comes from inside the house. Nothing threatening. More like a cat’s purr.
Crouching on her knees, Ali lifts the flap to the doggy door.
Her eyes dart all over the kitchen. A butcher-block countertop. Open shelving on the walls. A white ceramic pitcher holding wooden utensils. A furry blob splayed on a braided rug in front of the kitchen sink.
The bulldog is staring right at Ali. He doesn’t lift his head, just blinks his wet eyes.
“Hey, buddy.” She fumbles for the granola bar. “Here, puppy, puppy.”
He sniffs the air and gives a deep, throaty bark.
Ali freezes, waiting for someone to come downstairs and investigate.
But it’s quiet.
She pushes her arm as far through the doggy door as she can get it.
At last, the bulldog lifts himself off the rug and lumbers over, stopping to stretch his squat hind legs, a trickle of doggy drool dripping out from the side of his underbite. Ali is careful as she reels him in, pulling her arm back an inch at a time, beckoning him closer and closer, and finally letting him lick the granola bar. She then takes hold of the bulldog’s collar and leads him through the doggy door.
Once he’s outside with her, Ali scoops the bulldog up in her arms. He’s heavy and warm. Bristly fur. She breaks off a piece of the granola bar and lets him sloppily gobble it off her hand.
“You’re such a good puppy!”
“Holy shit, holy shit!” Grace says when Ali carries him down the steps and through the back gate.
“Come on! Let’s get out of here!”
She and Grace jog down the driveway and out to the center of the street, barely able to keep themselves from laughing, the bulldog licking Ali’s face as she jostles him in her arms. The rest of the girls, shrieking with excitement, peel out from behind their cover. And suddenly everyone is running, a wild pack, close to one another, not letting anyone fall behind. They sprint,