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A cacophony of laughter breaks out. The roughhousing resumes, and Sebastian hops to the ground. Willie ruffles his hair, and Mason’s at his side. He’s breathing too fast, but the rush is awesome. He peeks over his shoulder.

In the corner, Emir’s watching blankly. Then he nods. Sebastian bites his tongue before he says something outrageous.

The stadium is roaring whenthe team runs onto the pitch. In the bleachers, a giant sea of black and gold is only blemished by the occasional blots of St. Catherine’s crimson and yellow team colors. Sebastian’s goosebumps return. The fans get louder with every step.

His parents and Carly are in their usual seats just behind the home bench. Lily is whooping with black paint smudged across her nose. Sebastian flushes, then waves. He expects that from her. What he’s not ready for are, two rows behind his clan, Raj Shah and Emir’s entire family. Emir’s sisters are holding up a massive white sheet with “WE LOVE YOU BHAI!!!” painted on it in black and gold.

Emir’s cheeks are burning, and he covers his eyes with a hand. When the hand drops, Sebastian mouths “Bhai” and Emir’s lips formBrother.

Raj’s face looks proud, ecstatic. Emir hasn’t played a single second yet, and already Raj is over the moon.

The stakes have reached a new height.

29

Sebastian loves Greek mythology, allthe stories about heroes and legends, monsters and tragedy, romance and death. He wrote an epic paper about Jason and the Argonauts. It’s the only reason he passed Mr. Gentry’s lit class sophomore year. He knows this game is a clash between Titans and Olympic gods from the first coin toss.

Three minutes into the first period, a Spartan takes Kyle out with a brutal, illegal tackle. Kyle is carried off, and the other guy, Jeffries, takes a red card and gets a high-five from Cole on his way to the bench. The Spartans aren’t going down without taking half the Lions with them.

Cain, a frosh, comes in for Kyle, but Sebastian’s hopes slip. Kyle was one of their best offensive threats.

The game continues with a little less enthusiasm. Then Carl takes out two Spartans with a shove when the refs are following Mason around the pitch. He shoots Sebastian a wry grin. “Oops, I didn’t see them.”

Sebastian bites his lip to maintain a straight face. He still hardcore hates Carl’s guts, but St. Catherine’s coach losing his shit on the sidelines is pretty damn funny.

It’s a scoreless game halfwayinto the first period. Sebastian’s giddy over blocking five of St. Catherine’s attempts. Mason may not have nailed a shot yet, but their offense is running great passes. It’s all good.

Sebastian doesn’t let a single free kick get past him. Between these stripes and posts is his house. Dawson and all his flunkies aren’t faster than his hands.

Willie is animated on the sidelines. Smacking his hands on a clipboard, he barks, “Run a forty-two.” When Cain trips over his own feet, Willie swears at the clouds. Hunter’s hands smooth Willie’s shoulder from behind. He leans back, and Sebastianalmostchastises them for PDA in the middle of a very important game.

The whistle blows, and Sebastian drops into his zone. Ten seconds in, Dawson’s bulleting toward him. Sebastian hunches into position. But a black-and-gold blur steals the ball. Emir passes it up to Gio with a “Go, Gio, go” before Sebastian’s caught his breath.

It’s the tenth time Emir’s done that. Yes, Sebastian’s keeping count.

O’Brien shouts, “Nice play, Shah!” and Emir barely reacts. He maintains the same face: furrowed brow, thinned lips, steely eyes. But Sebastian has thissynergywith Emir, something that began somewhere in the middle of Camp Haven’s pitch under a stormy-gray sky. It’s only the start of the season. Sebastian can’t imagine how good they’ll be together in a month.

Over his shoulder, sweaty hair pushed back, Emir shouts, “Am I still a rookie?”

Sebastian smiles with his eyes.

By the time the ref blows the whistle for halftime, Sebastian doesn’t remember the last five minutes. He’s developed an obsession with the gold SHAH on the back of Emir’s jersey.

“They’re afraid of us.” CoachPatrick paces the locker room. The team is gathered around him, mopping up sweat, chugging from paper cups spilling Gatorade. “Last year, we were down two goals in the first half.” His eyes center on Sebastian. “Now they can’t get around our defense.”

“And they won’t,” says Zach, softly patting Emir’s cheek.

“Yeah,” agrees Coach. “So, now—”

“They’re weak on the left side.”

Coach mutters, “Yes, I’m aware, Grace.” She grouses back. Coach points at Mason. “That’s the plan, Riley. Concentrate on getting the ball toward the left. Rivera says their goalie is tracking you, so we might use Robbie as a decoy.”

Mason scrunches his face, indignant. Then, with as much modesty as he can muster, he mumbles, “Yeah, sure. Go Lions.” He gives Robbie a thumbs-up.

Robbie’s white as a sheet when Sebastian palms his back. He says, encouragingly, “Come on, rookie,” and leads the charge back through the tunnel.

The second half brings anew buzz to the stadium. The crowd’s loud enough to drown out any calls on the field. Sebastian’s hunched over, scouting. He has his eye on one thing. The Spartans have also changed their lineup. Michaelson and Cole have switched, putting a giant obstacle right in Mason’s path.