Page 93

“They’re going for the two-point conversion.”
The Eagles wanted to win, hoping to lock up the victory with an extra point. If they got it, the Raptors would have to score a touchdown; there would be no field goal, no tie, no overtime.
Baldwin threw. His favorite receiver caught. Four quick steps.
The crowd went wild.
Scott closed his eyes, forced himself to breathe, played out the rest of the game in his mind. Enough time for one or two more plays before the two-minute warning, then a long drive down the field for a touchdown. No interceptions. No letting the defense stop them.
He jogged onto the field, checked the defensive line-up, settled under center.
Four yards.
Two more.
The whistle blew for the two-minute warning.
Huddled together, Scott twitched and fidgeted as the short break wound down. His body, his brain, his very being needed to be on the field, throwing the ball, scoring those points.
Third down and four still to go.
Scott took the snap, dropped back, let the line in front of him slide as Finn ran the length from left to right. Flicking the ball to his best friend, Finn tucked it under his arm and took the two long strides they needed for the first before taking a hit that laid him out backwards.
He stood, shaking it off, and jogged back to the huddle.
Scott glanced at the clock, still ticking down.
“Get it out of bounds.”
Heads nodded around him.
He called the play.
Incomplete.
They set again.
The running back rushed for two.
They set again.
The Eagles blitzed, the outside linebacker slipping between the Raptors’ tight end and tackle.
His breadth took up the entirety of Scott’s vision. Tucking the ball and twisting to the right, he cradled it close as he hit the ground. It would be a loss, and he took it, as well as the pounding that went with it, knowing if he held on, at least the Eagles wouldn’t get a fumble recovery.
Abby gasped as Scott went to the ground, the massive Eagles linebacker riding him into the turf. He laid there a moment and Abby leapt to her feet, fear icing through her veins.
Her breath sped, but she swallowed back her fear, sinking into the seat beside Dylan and squeezing the hand he automatically slipped into hers.
Then, Scott pushed himself up again, shook his head, and jogged back into the huddle.
“He’s okay.”
Dylan nodded, but his eyes crinkled, and his lips turned down.
She ran her thumb over his cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s fine.”
“Yeah, but now it’s third and...” His eyes flicked over the field. “Long. Really long.”