Now it’s up to Mathison, which blows. But whether or not he takes us up to 9–7, everyone, including Terry Lawrence, can see who’s been putting in the work here. My running, throwing, and strategy have all been on display tonight, and while my leadership abilities could probably use some work, I’ve done the best I can. I don’t know how much is left in me, or in Santiago—not without the rest of our team. But I’m going to keep giving it everything I have.

Doesn’t hurt that it brings me a lot of joy to see Amber breaking into a new gleeful cheer and knowing I’m part of why.

I’m grateful my helmet hides that I can’t take my eyes off her when I’m not playing. On a squad full of hot, peppy girls, she got the nicknames Ammo and Loud for a reason. The only thing more powerful than her killer legs is her voice, and every time it cheers my name I want to melt into the grass.

I swig my water as Mathison takes his place on the field, and turn away just before he kicks. I can’t watch him miss again, and my gut says he’s going to. Crowd reaction tells me I’m right, and the scoreboard staying at 7–6 confirms it. God, that kid sucks.

Defense replaces us on the field and I chug my water and let myself watch the cheerleaders launch into a new routine. Amber is flawless, as usual, and when she does a cartwheel without even using her arms, it makes me want to fight every single person who’s ever made her feel like she’s just a short skirt. No chance in hell I could do that shit.

“Walsh!” Coach barks, and I tear my eyes off the squad. “Over here.”

I jog over obediently, knowing I’m about to be ripped a new one. “Hey, Coach.”

“Walsh.”

I tear my helmet off and swipe at my sweaty forehead. “You know they’re throwing this game, right?”

“What are you talking about, Walsh?” We both look at the field, where Zack Sawyer takes a shoulder to the gut and falls on his ass. “That was—that’s not throwing the game.” They’re just bad goes unsaid.

“Not defense,” I clarify, even though I have no idea. “You really think Sanchez missed that throw by accident? Did that look out of his range to you?”

“You’re reading into things, Walsh,” says Sundstrom. “And you can’t just pull plays out of your ass to make yourself look good for a scout.”