“Yeah!”
We got our helmets on, and I pulled on my gloves and put my mouth guard in. Alec reached out and took the grill of my helmet in his hands, pulling my head to him. “Don’t go out there and get so confident that you break yourself. I’m not dealing with your whining if you can’t play football.”
Alec knew me well. I did okay with fluffy words of love and confidence, and he could have gone with that, but when I played football, I was in beast mode. It was much more effective to give me an incentive not to be an idiot. I tapped his head a couple of times and then turned and led my team onto the field. Everyone was down in position to begin when Zeke stood up and put a hand in the air. The ref blew the whistle and put his hand up as well, and Zeke started to walk out toward the center of the field. The refs started in, as well, but Zeke held a finger out at his ref, who stopped moving instantly. The Widows ref looked over at me, and I shook my head, so he stayed in place on the sidelines. I stood up, sifted through the team, and moved to centerfield. The entire field was pin-drop silent while Zeke and I moved to meet each other. The only sound was the crunch of our feet against the turf.
A spare set let me know that I was being followed again, but I didn’t turn to see who it was. I made my way to centerfield and came to a stop, facing Zeke. He used his middle finger to hook into the cord that attached his mouthguard to his helmet and yanked it from his mouth. I reached up and pulled mine out with my fingers, as ours didn’t have cords. It oddly felt like another peacock dance, but I didn’t waver.
“Delaying the game?” I asked. “Did you want to start out with a penalty?”
“Clock hasn’t started yet.” He looked over my shoulder. “I don’t believe we need you.”
“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion,” Lila’s voice replied. I wasn’t sure if the support she’d shown me in the past week was arrogance, confidence in me, or something else entirely, but I didn’t question it. The president of the United States had worse bodyguards.
“Let’s make a deal,” Zeke pressed on, ignoring Lila. “If you win, the Vipers will completely endorse the Widows’ bid for semi-pro. We’ll go public, and we’ll pay your establishment fees.”
I’d looked into the establishment fees very little. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. It was only something we’d have to worry about if we actually made semi-pro status. They had to be hefty, though, considering they were related to establishing a base of operations and commissioning a stadium. It was a lot to offer. He was either incredibly cocky or incredibly stupid. I was placing my money on both.
“And if we lose?” I asked.
“You have to withdraw your application.” It was a blow to the face. I had, of course, considered the possibility that the Widows wouldn’t be victorious, but I didn’t plan to put so much on the line. He sneered because he saw my hesitation. “Oh, not so confident anymore?”
“She’s just thinking about the best way to spend your money,” Lila spat.
“My Widows will win.” I took a deep breath. If I wasn’t willing to go all-in on my team, why were we even here? “You have a deal.”
That time, it was Zeke who held out a hand, but I didn’t take it.
“Sorry, I have no respect for someone who makes a mockery of my sport.”
Zeke smiled at me, but there was nothing but malice behind his eyes. “Best of luck to you.”
“Fuck off.” I turned around and started back toward my team, shoving my mouth guard in my mouth so hard it rattled my teeth. “This is for our right to apply!” I yelled.
The team all shifted, but Lila was right behind me. “Stay in it!”
Everyone locked in despite the news, and with a loud, screeching whistle. The game began.
We kicked off the ball to the Vipers, and the Widows charged forward. The kick was impressive. It was nearly as far downfield as it could get before it would become a safety. Adrenaline rushed through my body as my feet carried me toward the person with the ball. I zeroed in on him like I had a scope attached to me and he was the only thing my crosshairs would find. The yards between us got smaller and smaller until I was finally in his zone. I ducked in and charged, and a moment later, like I’d had a memory lapse, I was face down on the turf. I had no idea what had happened, but I didn’t make contact with the runner.
I got up and turned around, and the sight broke my heart. The Widows were barely managing to keep up as the Vipers snagged my girls one by one, and the runner cleared all the yards between the end zones for a kick-return touchdown. When he passed into the end zone, everyone in attendance was utterly silent. All of the Black Widows were statues in place. Finally, the field erupted with the cheers of the hundreds of Vipers fans, but the Vipers didn’t celebrate. The runner who’d gotten the touchdown tossed the ball to the ref and joined his team in corralling up to prepare for their post-touchdown points, and by the way they were lining up, they were going for a conversion.
The Widows lined up, despite how obviously shaken we were, and the ref blew his whistle. The sounds of the Vipers’ center counting were distant in my ears, and when the snap fired back, I was at a wall before I’d even moved my feet. The Vipers locked the Widows up with no issue, and to mock us, Zeke tucked the ball under his arm and lightly jogged through an opening to get to the end zone.
Just like that, the Vipers had scored eight points in the less than five minutes that had elapsed in the game, and they hadn’t even broken a sweat. To say I was suddenly very nervous would be a severe understatement.
Things never got better. By halftime, I was tempted to call it. The more the minutes ticked on and the more points the Vipers scored, the more I watched my semi-pro dreams slipping from my fingers. Even Lila seemed dejected, and she didn’t get that way often. The few hours that had passed between the beginning and the end of the game felt like three weeks. When the final whistle blew at the end of the game, the only thing I could do was drop to my knees. I looked over at the score just to see if something had happened that I missed, but I saw what I feared in the bright red digital numbers.
Fifty-seven to three. The only points we earned were from a single field goal we were lucky to have gotten.
Emotions welled up into a knot in my throat. I spat out my mouth guard and bit down on my bottom lip until I could taste a metallic swill in my mouth. I wasn’t a crier in general, but I refused to show any emotions to Zeke. That was what he wanted.
A few of the Vipers attempted to high five, but anyone who tried was immediately advanced on by Zeke until they backed off.
“What would you celebrate for? This was just another practice.” The teams started to file off the field, but I stayed where I was, and so did Zeke. When it was just us left on the field, Zeke walked over to me.
“Get up,” he said.
I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him, but I did climb to my feet. I kept my gaze trained downward, and Zeke sighed.
“You can wait until tomorrow to withdraw your application,” he said. I looked up at him, shocked at the random kindness, but his deathly glare sent shudders down my spine. “Use tonight to think about your mistakes and how you wasted my time.”
He didn’t stick around any longer. He turned on his heel and walked straight past his team and walked onto the bus. I stayed standing in place on the field until there wasn’t a single soul left except Alec, and that was only because he was my ride. I wasn’t sure how long he’d left me to stand in place, but he finally walked over and wrapped a hand around my shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just pulled me off the field to his car. Once he’d pushed me into the passenger’s seat, I finally ducked my head against the dashboard in front of me and let the tears flow in earnest.