Page 102 of For the Fans

Forty-six to forty-five.

Kyran’s head is in his hands. I can all but feel the sting of him ripping his own hair out, and I have to do something. I don’t know where the need to fix this comes from… I’ve never been one to feel compelled by empathy, but I justcan’twatch him crumble like this.If he loses his confidence, then this thing is really over.

“Ky…” I stomp up to him as he’s standing, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Ky, it’s not over until it’s over, okay??”

“Shut up, Avi…” he breathes, slamming his helmet back down over his head.

“No. I won’t,” I growl, and his eyes meet mine from inside his helmet. I can only make him out through the stupid eyeholes of this eagle costume, but I make sure to lock my gaze with his anyway. For effect. “You’ve got this in the bag. Their defense is fucked right now, you hear me?”

He gives me a look, the desperation slowly fading into visible determination as Coach Matthews shouts at him.

“You don’t go down without a fight… Trust me, I know.” I smirk even though he can’t see it.

His lips curve into a grin, but he crushes it and covers it with his usual scowl. “Fuck you.”

“Yes! Perfect.” I clap. “Use that anger and go kick some Hokie ass!”

Diving away from him, I jump up and down, facing the crowd. Lifting my hands over and over to signalmake some noise, which they do. The crowd is screaming and hollering, the stands shaking with thundering noise and stomps to match the fading music of“We Will Rock You.”

I’m doing everything in my power to keep them going, rallying the hype in hopes that it’ll light a fire under the players’ asses. All we need is a field goal to win this thing…

When Kyran gets back on the field, his movements are sharp. He is definitelynotgoing down without a fight. Four solid plays in a row, we gain first-downs. And Guty makes each one of them, breaking free from Virginia Tech’s frazzled defense, getting us down the field fast.

We’re on the five-yard line with ten seconds left on the clock, trying for a touchdown. If we don’t make this, it’s on Theo for the field goal. He hasn’t missed all season, but still. That’s a lot of pressure.

But Kyran Harbor clearly likes pressure.A lot.

The final snap happens, and Kyran steps back, looking around for his men. They’re all covered. It’s fucked.

So he runs.

He fuckingruns, juking through the bodies, diving into the end zonehim fucking selfto score the winning touchdown.

I’ve never heard anything like what happens when the ref throws his arms in the air. It sounds like fucking war, or the apocalypse or something. People are screaming their damn lungs out, and to be honest, I might be one of them.

We’re all jumping around like psychos, cheering and dancing, becausewe wonthe wildest game ever. And our own all-star quarterback brought it home.

He fucking crushed it. There’s no other way to say it… I’m proud of him.

Don’t tell him I said that.

The rest of the team practically carries Kyran off the field after this monumental playoff win. He whips his helmet off, and his face is beaming. Pink cheeks and watering eyes. It’s pretty dope to see.

Removing the head of my costume, I rush up to him, grinning.

“I knew you could do it.” I pat him on the back, and he smiles, breathing heavily from all the adrenaline.

“Yea… thanks,” he replies softly, eyes flicking around to all the people shouting his name.

“Runningandthrowing? I guess you’re the whole package.” I brush my hair back from my sweaty forehead.

He grimaces at me, but it’s not really working to wipe away his permanent ecstatic grin. “It was only five yards…”

“Right.” I squint at him, and he chuckles. “Well, you did good. Big celebratory plans with the team, then?”

His smile fades a little, and he blinks at me. His lips part like he’s going to say something, but before he can, Guty and Theo gallop over, hanging all over him.

Guty slings an arm around Kyran’s shoulder. “Nueve! You are fuckingunstoppable, kid!”