“No, listen to me—this is the plan!”
I bring Sasha in close, putting my arm over his shoulder. Jacob and Thomas step in close, too.
The lights are going to shut off soon, and we all have to get home. Momma got me a new bike, so I can ride home fast with Thomas and Jacob. We have time for one more play, but it has to work. This is the only chance we have.
The sixth-grade boys always win. It really isn’t fair that we divide teams by age. We’re only ten, and they’re so much taller than us. But my uncle says that the most important muscle you use in football is the one in your head. He says anyone can beat anyone if they just do that one right thing.
“Sasha, you know how I always have Thomas snap after green sixteen? This time, he’s going to hold it, and I’m going to wait a tick before I say hike,” I say.
“Nico, there’s no refs out here. That hard count shit you see on TV doesn’t work here, dude. Christian is just going to flatten Thomas’s ass faster and knock you out. Don’t give them that extra second,” Sasha says.
I shake him with my hand on his back, and he flings my arm away.
“Listen, no…really. This will work, I swear. They won’t be ready. It’s like…it’s like tripping them. Just, come on—try it just this one time. If it doesn’t work, I swear to you guys we don’t ever have to run this play again.”
Sasha rolls his eyes and sighs, but pushes his hand into the center.
“Fine, whatever. Game’s over anyhow,” he says.
I smile and bite the tip of my tongue. I can’t explain why, but I have this feeling—like I already know what’s going to happen. Sasha is going to feel so stupid when I’m right.
I slap my hand on his, and Thomas and Jacob follow.
“Break!” we all shout, jogging to our positions on the line.
My knee finally quit bleeding from the touchdown I ran in myself when we started playing two hours ago. My legs are ready, and my body feels fast. But this sense in my gut, it’s more than that. By the time I line up behind Thomas, I’m almost laughing—which only makes Christian, the biggest kid in our class and the one who always scores the winning touchdown out here, mad. His eyes lower on me, and he digs his foot into the dirt. If I’m wrong, he’s going to hurt me when he tackles me to the ground.
I lick my fingertips and bend my knees, glancing down the line. Sasha and Jacob are lined up, their arms ready and bodies prepared to spring forward. They’ll need to be fast, and I can’t get caught. That single second—it’s going to be the difference.
“Blue forty-two, blue forty-two,” I shout, my eyes moving to Thomas’s back then down the line, to Sasha. Our eyes meet, and my friend’s mouth lifts on one side.
“Blue forty-two, green-sixteen…” I pause, and I count in my head that it’s only a breath.
Christian lunges forward, but his brain tells him something’s wrong, and his feet stumble, his fist hitting the ground, followed by his knee as he loses his balance.
“Hike!” I shout, picking my perfect moment.
Thomas shoves the ball into my hands, and I fall back two or three steps while Christian works to get to his feet. I’ve given myself room, and Thomas is holding Christian’s brother, Angel, by the sleeves of his shirt. I know my friend can’t hold two defenders for long, but I won’t need more than a few seconds.
“Run, Sasha, run!” I shout, knowing that my friend is far faster than the two defenders tailing both him and Jacob.
Sasha can outrun anyone. I just can’t miss.
I leap up on my feet with two side-steps, not sure if he’s far enough yet, and I catch Christian coming at me. I twist, and his hand snags my shirt, ripping the threads from the bottom, but I break free, and I stay on my feet while his weight carries him too far, and he skids on his knee.
I rush to the other side while Christian gets up, and I know I have less time now. Sasha…he has to be far enough. This is our shot; it’s the only one we have to win—so I take it.
My arm falls back and I thrust it forward, grunting as I send the ball down the field just as Christian reaches me and wraps me in his arms, pushing my face into the dry grass, my knee opening up again and bleeding as I skid along the hard ground.
None of it hurts. I don’t feel a single thing. And I hold my breath as Christian pushes on my shoulder to lift himself up, satisfied that he has done enough. I don’t move, other than lifting my head so my eyes can watch Sasha run. His legs stretch, and in those final beats, his stride seems to mature, giving him the two extra feet we need.