“I have something for you.” I pull out the mini pom-pom key chain and hold it out to him.
For a second, I worry he thinks it’s dumb or crosses some imaginary line of thisfriends who make outthing we have going, but as his fingers close around it, a wide smile stretches out across his face.
“The pom-pom from your backpack?”
“I got it the day I found out I was cheer captain. Hopefully it’ll bring you luck too.”
He stares down at it with a look that’s a mixture of excitement and awe.
“I love it.” He closes his fingers around it. “Thanks, Lacey.”
“You’re welcome.”
He walks toward class, and I start to my locker. A light touch on my upper arm has me swiveling around. Vaughn stands behind me.
“Hey.” I give him a quizzical look.
“Can we hang out after the game?” he asks.
My stomach does its usual somersaults in his presence.
“Won’t the team go to Doyle’s?” I ask.
“Probably. I’m not sure.”
The idea that he wants to spend time with me instead of his teammates isn’t lost on me, but I have a feeling he’ll want to be part of the celebration when they win.
“I’ll meet you there,” I tell him. “Good luck!”
Chapter Twenty-six
Vaughn
My fingers clench around the key chain Lacey gave me. Never in my life have I hoped a lucky charm contained real magic more than right now.
Mountainview should have been an easy matchup for us. We knew their defense would give us some trouble, but we weren’t prepared for their offense. All season they’ve struggled to score, but those issues are a thing of the past.
I glance at the scoreboard. We’re trailing them by one goal. Not unsurmountable, but the way we’re moving, sluggish and defeated, it’s going to take some effort to rally.
“Keller, Collins!” Dad barks, tipping his head toward the field.
Austin and I sub in quickly. I find Rowan. His expression has the same grim frustration as the rest of the team.
The referee blows the whistle, and Austin moves out of bounds to kick the ball into play. We lose the ball on a sloppy turnover before we get anywhere near the goal. I grit down on my back teeth as I head back to play defense.
I catch Dad’s disappointed scowl as he turns away from the field like he can’t stand to watch us screw up anymore.
Usually I can flip a switch, block everything else out and find that next gear, but tonight I’m off my game as much as the rest of the team.
Dad’s words from last night haunt me:You’re acting like the season is already over.
Mountainview’s top player goes down with an ankle injury on the next play. He subs out with a grim look of pain and despair on his face. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but it feels like an opportunity to change the momentum.
“Either they’ve been pretending to suck all season, or we were severely overestimating our own abilities,” Rowan says as he falls into a jog beside him.
“I think the flu somehow made them better,” Hunter grumbles as he joins us.
“Forget them.” I stop and the rest of the team huddles around me. They’re all looking for me to fix it or say something that’s going to refocus the entire team. “We need to be patient, move the ball around. Trust our offense. It’s worked all season.”
