Page 83 of Bump and Run

“Hike!”

The center snaps the ball back and I catch it, twisting around to lay it into John’s cradled arms — but I tuck it beneath mine instead.

John sprints to the left, taking half the offensive line with him and the defense falls for it.

I bolt to the right, slipping around them with the ball safely in my hands, and the crowd explodes.

A few of the other team notice, jutting out to grab me but I’ve already gained the momentum to dart right through them.

With the end zone in sight, I pick up my speed, running on pure adrenaline all the way to the goal. Ty rushes in after me, slamming against me in celebration but the game isn’t over yet.

There’s still a two-point conversion to worry about.

I look at the crowd, once again looking for her face but I still can’t find her.

We head to the three-yard line. If we don’t nail this play, then the game is over. We lose.

And I’ll never hear the end of it from Eliza.

“Just pop it up,” Ty shouts, pounding once on his chest. “We’ll catch it.”

He rushes to the end of the line with the rest of the wide receivers and I fill my lungs with hot, humid air.

“Hike!”

The next few moments blur past me. I feel the ball in my hands. I see the rage of the defensive linemen, just as determined to win as we are not to lose. I smell the turf beneath me and feel the crushing weight on my chest. Multiple tackles crash in front of me and my team falls.

I let the ball fly from my fingers, arching high up towards the center of the end zone. It spins downward and a dozen hands launch into the air, so many that I can’t even tell who is who.

Finally, the whistle blows and Ty stands up with the ball clutched in his hands.

Holy shit.

I look at the scoreboard and watch the numbers tick up with wide eyes. Tie game. I lock eyes with Cary Pierce, feeling that insane rush from my head to my toes.

We’ll wipe them out in overtime.

You bet your ass we will.

* * *

They didn’t stand a chance.

Cary Pierce promised everybody that they’d know my name. This season, we’d get their attention. Next season, we’d keep it. The man knows his shit, I’ll tell you that.

“Junior! Junior! Junior!”

I stand on the sidelines, submerged in complete shock and awe while they chant my name over and over again.

By now, the entire city knows of our victory — especially with the amount of screaming threatening to tear the stadium down — but there’s only one person that I care about celebrating with.

I keep looking through the crowd, hoping to catch sight of her but Eliza Pierce is still nowhere to be found.

Finally, my eyes land on a familiar face near the bottom of the bleachers, leaning casually against them and watching with great interest as the team pass by him.

Grant holds up his hand as Ty draws closer. “Good game, Mr. Fisher!” he shouts.

Ty slaps his hand. “Thanks, man!”

---