“Why do you think we should go for a touchdown?” Darius sounded curious. He would have made a good teacher.
“Our quarterback has a cannon for an arm.” Peyton had borrowed that line from one of the many screaming fans around her.
“That’s true.” Darius’s midnight eyes considered her. “But Heritage’s defense is impenetrable.”
Peyton smiled at the hint of pride in Darius’s comment. How hard was it for him to root against his alma mater?
“They can’t cover every receiver, and Sequoia has a lot of weapons, including Noah.” Using her newfound football terminology was almost as much fun as watching the game.
“We need the win.” June sounded frantic.
“The championship’s at stake.” Darius nodded toward the field. “We need to go for the safe play.”
“No guts, no glory.” She’d plucked that quote from history.
Darius chuckled. “Are you sure this is your first football game?”
Peyton blushed at the subtle compliment. She hugged the words to her heart even as she shifted her attention to the field. The Sequoia offense lined up at the twenty-three-yard line. The quarterback was in what Darius had called the shotgun position. It was a good sign.
Peyton cupped her hands over her mouth and screamed, “Go for it!”
As though responding to her rally, the Sequoia quarterback shot a bomb down the far side of the field. It raced with Noah. His long legs ate up the yards, keeping up with the ball. Two defenders dogged him, covering him like peanut butter on jelly, butter on toast, white on rice. Peyton held her breath as Noah picked up speed. He leaped from the field, rising barely above his defenders as the ball dropped to him. With his body vulnerable in the air, he coaxed the ball to him with the tips of his fingers. He landed with his toes inbounds. His body went limp, then rolled off the field. Twenty-nine-yard reception. First down. Clock stopped. Ball on Heritage’s forty-eight-yard line.
Sequoia fans went insane. Peyton exhaled.
The Sequoia Soldiers hustled to the line of scrimmage for their second play of the series. Forty-four seconds left to the game. The quarterback caught the snap from the center. The clock ticked. Forty-three, forty-two, forty-one, forty . . . A Heritage defender flushed the quarterback from the pocket. The ball handler scrambled to the right . . . thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven . . . A short pass to the running back saved the broken play. Net gain of five yards. The Heritage defender creamed the Sequoia quarterback, planting him in the grass.
“Isn’t that a foul?” Peyton shot off the bench. “Foul! Foul, ref! Can you hear me?”
“Zeus can hear you on Mount Olympus,” Darius cracked drily. “There’s the flag.”
Peyton strained to hear the referee as he updated the crowd on the penalty. “Roughing the passer. Defense. Number thirty-eight. Fifteen yards. Ball on Warriors twenty-eight. First down.”
“Yes!” June pumped a fist in the air. “Go for the field goal.”
“We should go for the win.” Peyton stared at the field.
“But there’s only thirty-one seconds left.” June gestured toward the field.
“June,” Darius interrupted their exchange. “We can win this.”
Peyton rewarded him with a smile. “Yes, we can.”
She returned her attention to the field, pressing her fist against her lips. Peyton whispered into her hand, “I believe. I believe.”
The quarterback took the snap. He danced back into the pocket. Noah waved for the ball from the fifteen-yard line. He was under double coverage, just as he’d been for most of the game. Other receivers were closer and more open.
“Throw it to Noah!” June was almost jumping up and down with impatience. “Throw it to eighty-one!”
The game clock counted down . . . thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight. The quarterback picked a more open target. The intended receiver bobbled the pass. The ball dropped to the field. Incomplete. The clock stopped at twenty-two seconds. Sequoia fans groaned their disappointment—all but one.
“I told you to throw it to eighty-one!” June screamed the frustration of a disappointed parent.
Sequoia called a timeout.
Peyton patted June’s shoulder. “We still have twenty-two seconds and three downs.”
June groaned. “We have to line up for the field goal.”