Chapter Three: Ninety-Seven Yards

The offense lined up. Kai prepared to ground the ball, but one thought rang clear from the deepest safety. *They have to spike it. Nobody will watch me.* The safety walked lazily toward the middle, abandoning the corner. Kai mimed the spike, then lifted the ball and threw left. Eli had not heard the plan. But they had practiced that rule hundreds of times: when a quarterback appeared to abandon a down, the boundary receiver kept running until the whistle. Eli reached the corner and caught the pass with six seconds left. 34–27. Kai heard no celebration. Overload pulled the world into a vacuum. He saw the bench sprinting toward him, Mountain roaring, Eli kneeling in the painted end zone with the ball clutched to his chest.