If it wasn’t for the snarling, huffing defensive backs hot on my trail, I would’ve laughed at his solid advice to run faster, but I was too focused on not getting clobbered. Fifteen-yard line. I opened myself up to get severely hurt every time I ran with the ball. The football world hated female players. I was the first in my state. There were rumors that opposing players were paid by their coaches to knock me down, personal foul or not, but I was fast and my players protected me. In track, I won state two years in a row. Running was in my blood. It was time to add football to my résumé of state wins. Ten-yard line.

“Go, go, go!” Wyatt, my wide receiver, picked off one of the defensive linemen who had been his shadow since the ball was snapped. The other one crashed into them. I leaped over the pile and pushed forward.

I was at the five-yard line when I felt hands brush the back of my jersey. I twisted loose and tucked the ball tight against my body, knowing I was going down any second. Three-yard line. I dug deep and pushed myself even harder. When I hit the turf and the air left my lungs, I wasn’t sure if I made it or not. I was on the bottom of a pile, and everyone was screaming. My lungs burned as I fought for a breath. The pads protected me from getting squashed, but it still hurt.

In the distance, I heard Justin yell as though he read my mind. “Get off her.”

The crushing weight on me lifted. I tried to take several deep breaths, but the warm metallic taste of blood filled my mouth instead. I gagged and spit it out. My mouth guard had slashed my upper gums when I hit the ground. Somebody flipped me over and I struggled to keep the ball in my grasp.

Max’s face came into view. “We’re going to state, baby!”

I smiled at him, removed my mouthpiece, and turned my head to puke. He and Justin pushed people away.

“Back the fuck up, man. Back up!” Max yelled. He waved the coach over.

I wanted to tell him I was okay, but I couldn’t find my words. I closed my eyes and smiled when I realized all my body parts were accounted for and worked. My lungs were still inside my body even though I thought somebody had squeezed them out.

“McCoy! McCoy! Can you hear me?” Coach’s face fell into my line of vision. I never noticed the gray in his stubble or how, from this angle, his face slid slightly forward and his cheeks sagged enough to force open his mouth. He was a nice-looking man, but at this angle, he looked like a fish. A very concerned one.

I took another deep breath and nodded. “We’re going to state.”