Page 122 of Close Knit

Overton has climbed the table. Last year’s champions, Parkside City, are falling behind. Right now, we’re sitting in the seventh spot. There are twenty games left this season. If we winat least sixteen of those, there’s a chance—the smallest chance—we could snag the championship. Every match from here on will be a battle, and Lyndhurst needs to bring our A-game for every. Single. One.

For the first time this season, I can feel the cold metal of the trophy in my hands. Hear the shouts in the stadium, the roar of fans pouring onto the pitch like a damn flood. The purple and white confetti raining from the sky.

One hundred and thirty-four days.

We can still win.

I leave Coach’s office, pull out my phone, and open the neglected text chain with my Los Angeles team.

Cameron

How do you guys feel about coming to the final Lyndhurst match in May?

#8 Dynamo Diego Rivera

FUCK YEAH!

#4 Octo Ollie Bennett

Can’t wait 2 fucking celebrate when ur holding that trophy bro

Cameron

Let me know who can make it. I’ll organize your tickets.

Leaving the stadium, I’m immediately overwhelmed by flashing lights.

“Hastings, when do you think you’ll be back on the field again?” a voice shouts.

Fucking hell. I throw my hand up in front of my face, propelling myself into the media circus. Microphones and cameras line my path. The reporters stick to me like gnats.

“Is this the end of your legacy?”

“How do you feel about the anniversary of your livestream next month?”

My nerves explode, and the high I felt moments ago crashes. It’s like being caught in an earthquake, each flash and question jolting me. For the past month, I’ve been tormenting myself, each moment of peace overshadowed by intrusive thoughts that scream that no matter how hard I try to fix things, I’ll just end up losing it all again. The reporters’ voices amplify my fears a hundredfold.

“No comment,” I say, inhaling deep breaths.

“How are you handling being benched?”

“Are you going to throw in the towel at your prime?”

“What toll is this taking on your personal life?”

My heart races faster. I shield my face with my jacket, trying to block them out.

“Give him some space!” a familiar voice shouts.

Another one follows. “Back off!”

Jung, Omar, and Sven surround me, ushering me to my car.

“Meet you there,” Sven says, closing my door and yelling at the media to back up. I’m mad I didn’t give these men a chance sooner.

Ten minutes later,I enter the arcade next door to the Lion’s Lodge. The sounds of clinking coins fill the old, musty place. Most of the team is already here. Pitchers of beer and pint glasses clutter the large wooden table in the center of the place.

“Those knobheads never stop. Had to sprint to my car. Didn’t have time to warn you,” Ivan says, approaching me and clapping me on the back. “You all right?”

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