Cole tucked the ball and rolled right. Booker cut left to angle him off. In the corner of his eye, Cole saw O’Dell Lamar swing around behind him. He pitched the ball to the tailback, then ducked his head and drove a shoulder into Booker’s chest. The linebacker’s ribs cracked like dry twigs. He turned a full somersault over Cole’s body before hitting the mud.

Cole’s block kept O’Dell on his feet, but the blitzing defenders closed in fast, forcing the tailback toward the sideline. The pass coverage left no option to throw.

Cole somehow maintained his footing and started downfield at a full sprint. He found open grass within ten yards and began to wave his arm. O’Dell spotted him and fired a tight, lobbing spiral toward the end zone. Cole went airborne at the five. The ball found his hands just as he crossed the goal line.

The final second ticked off the clock.

Instant pandemonium.

The Killington students had begun their charge across the field before the play even ended. The rest of the crowd rushed from the bleachers in a mad stampede. In less than a minute the north goalpost tipped under the weight of clambering bodies.

A mixed rush of exhilaration and panic gripped Cole as the sea of people descended on him. Screams stung his ears. Flailing arms fell on him from all sides, pulling, grabbing, and squeezing. Wild faces melded into a dizzying blur. Cole accepted the fanfare with controlled grace as he fought to push his way through the crowd. When he finally reached the edge of the pressing mob, he turned a circle in place, scanning the field until he found who he was looking for.

Booker stood where he had landed. The linebacker’s eyes found Cole. He spat a gnawed mouthpiece to the dirt. A toothless grin of blood and grit spread his lips.

Cole removed his helmet and approached until they were nose to nose. The sight of the face-off halted the fans’ pursuit. The crowd fanned out, allowing the confrontation a wide berth. Screams faded to dull murmurs. The band music wilted midtune.

Not a word passed between the two boys. Seconds ticked by. Then Booker’s eyes moved to Cole’s throat. He attacked before Cole could even move to defend himself. They toppled to the grass in a tangle of grappling arms. Booker landed on top, pinning Cole beneath him. As Cole squirmed to break free, his head rolled back, exposing his jugular. Booker’s jaws clamped on with the speed of a striking snake. But before his teeth sank in, O’Dell Lamar stepped in behind Booker. With lightning quickness, the tailback hooked gloved fingers into Booker’s eye sockets and yanked. Booker tumbled backward over the grass before rolling to a stop fifteen feet away.

The crowd held their silence.