Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“And you called me a crazy fool,” Kevin said. “You’ll lose tonight if you play like this.”
He said it like it was an accepted fact, and for Kevin to put that much faith in the Foxes had Jeremy smiling so hard his face hurt. “Maybe. Maybe not. Should be fun either way, right? I can’t remember the last time I was this psyched for a game. Look at this.” He held out his hands like they could somehow see how unsteady he felt with this much anticipation beating through his chest. There was more he could have said, but Bobby was at the corner of the court and waving to get his attention. He was overdue back on the Home side, so he settled for just saying, “Bring it, Foxes, and we’ll bring it too.”
They were bold words, and he didn’t at all regret them, but when Jeremy stumbled off the court partway through second-half he dizzily thought he should have asked the Foxes for a hint of mercy. He gently beat the side of his gloved fist against his thigh, hoping to feel something other than that disorienting numbness, and let Coach White guide him over to the bench.
The majority of the Trojan lineup stood shoulder-to-shoulder down the length of the wall, far back enough they wouldn’t get in the referees’ way but close enough to watch the spectacle unfolding before their eyes. The bench was saved for tonight’s sacrificial players, and Jeremy had never been so glad to sit down. He’d taken all of first half so Ananya could get relieved by Nabil. This half, it was his turn to be saved. He fumbled with his helmet, but he didn’t quite have enough coordination to undo the straps. Tony was in front of him a heartbeat later, taking over for him, and Jeremy dropped his hands to his lap with a relieved sigh.
“How are they still going?” he asked wonderingly. Jeremy didn’t know if it was respect or good-natured terror pounding in his temples. Either way he couldn’t look away from the court long enough to help Tony with his gloves.
The answer was obvious: the Foxes had backed themselves into this playing style years ago due to Wymack’s refusal to field a large team. Losing Seth Gordon at the start of the year had been tragic, but the only difference it made to their game was where their subs were assigned. Coach Wymack had likely tailored their entire training regime toward perseverance, building his Foxes up so they could hold their own against whatever was thrown at them. Every other team focused on shorter, full-speed shifts to justify roster size.
It worked to the Foxes’ advantage to meet the Trojans on their terms: they played a cleaner game than the Trojans generally saw from their opponents, checking bodies and sticks when they needed to but only with enough force to win the confrontation. Their strength and energy were better reserved for holding their ground on the court, and as the Trojans started to flag and stumble, the Foxes tapped into those reserves to get around them. Jeremy wanted to look at all of them at once, and he knew he’d be watching and rewatching this game for weeks to see every angle.
“You need to stretch out,” Coach Lisinski said behind him.
“I don’t know if I can stand up again,” Jeremy said.
“I believe in you,” was her unsympathetic response.
Jeremy groaned and let Tony haul him back up. Bobby swung by as he was stretching and pacing so she could pawn some drinks off on him. Jeremy tried swigging without taking his eyes off the game, but he still almost missed when Neil Josten scored. With that, the Foxes took the lead with twenty minutes remaining in the game. They’d started the second half three goals behind at four-seven. Now they were ten against USC’s nine.
Jeremy hobbled down the length of the court behind the rest of his team. Shane Reed was at the end of the line, as expected. He’d been in goal for the first half, and now he grimly watched as Laila got the shorter end of the stick. Jeremy couldn’t remember the last time anyone got more than five goals on Laila. Now she’d given up six and they still had almost half the period to go.
“They can’t protect her,” Shane said.
“I’ll have to hear about it later, I’m sure,” Jeremy said.
“So will they,” Shane said, with a hint of a smile that quickly faded. “But she agreed despite knowing the most likely outcome, so she can’t take it personally.”
She would anyway, Jeremy knew, but she’d hoard that blame for herself despite the front-row seats to her collapsing defense line. They were too exhausted to save her, running on fumes at best. Laila was very good, but she couldn’t close the goal on her own. When the Foxes scored again just five minutes later, Cat shuffled over to her to give her a short, fierce hug. Laila gently knocked their helmets together, refusing that apology, and sent her back to her starting spot alongside Neil.