Faking It

Chapter 47: Take The Shot

This was my game. Not his.

As well as I had prepared for their striker, though, their defenders had prepared for ours. For every offensive play that we shut down, they did the same to us. The ball bounced around the neutral zone, with neither of us able to take advantage of our possession time. They had a few breakaways on the opposite wing, but nothing that Deanna couldn't stop. We had a few nail-biting crosses, but nothing came of them.

When a foul was called against one of their midfielders for pulling one of our strikers' jerseys, Coach Patel shouted for me to take the kick. I exchanged a look with Deanna, who merely shrugged.

"Pop it into the box and try to let one of us get it first," she said.

Settling the ball, I studied the players. They'd pushed up their defensive line, and their goalie was hovering halfway into the 18-yard box, ready to snatch anything that came close. Reyna, the fastest of our forwards, was moving towards the sideline, eyes on me. It was just like the set play Coach Patel had made us practice over and over. If I could feed the ball just far enough that Reyna could outrun the defender trailing her, but not so far that the goalie got to it first, we might stand a chance.

Your lack of accuracy is all in your head...

I pressed my eyes closed against Theo's voice. Then, with a deep breath, I opened them and hammered the ball with my foot.

It went exactly where I'd wanted it to go. Reyna was upon it in a blink, and a single touch later, she wound her leg back for a kick. The goalie dove, but she was too far out. And too late.

The ball curled into the net.

"Bloody brilliant!" Audra screamed from behind me, and I chased Deanna and the rest of the girls up to crash into Reyna.

"Ace of a pass, Ellie," she said, slapping me with a high five before we all jogged back to our half.

A warm dart of hope rooted in my chest when I looked up at the triumphant, glowing 1-0 on the scoreboard.

Harcourt didn't let us savor the victory for long. They attacked with renewed vigour, and my chest heaved from chasing their speedy striker all over the field and back. Just before halftime, she managed to scoot around me and get a shot off, but Audra stopped it with a solid dive.

When the ref finally blew her whistle, I was desperate for water and a break. Coach Patel rattled off a few strategic notes before we thrust all of our hands back into the circle, shouted the Kingsbridge cheer, and jogged back onto the field.

The beginning of the second half was spent much like the first, with the ball stuck in the neutral zone. But, with 10 minutes of play time left, our left-wing defender tripped up and her striker got away from her.

"Cover me!" Deanna shouted, before she sprinted off to challenge the quickly approaching striker.

"Behind you!" Audra barked, and I was torn. One of their mids had dashed into the center, and our stopper wasn't going to make it back fast enough to cover her, let alone the striker I'd left uncovered on the far wing. I hesitated in the middle, and Deanna got a foot on the cross, but not enough to block it completely. It sailed wild and wide, towards the waiting feet of the striker I'd left uncovered.

I cursed when she knocked a shot into the back of the net, one that Audra would never have been able to stop. Harcourt celebrated with a bunch of ear-splitting shrieks, and I clenched my fists, hating the twisting nausea blooming in my stomach. Audra shot her hand up so I could help her rise, then clapped me on the shoulder.

"Tough break," she said as Deanna jogged over, cursing under her breath. "Let's not let it happen again. We're still in this."

And we were. The scoreboard stayed at 1-1 despite both teams' best efforts to change it. When the clock hit 90 minutes and we entered stoppage time, my legs were crying out for mercy and my lungs were burning. Harcourt had us on our heels again, with the momentum of the game starkly in their favour after their goal. By some miracle, though, we managed to hold them off until the ref's whistle blew.