Neither team could make any big plays, and time marched along. The quarter ended. More time ticked by, and hope continued to dwindle. With under three minutes left on the clock, my worry solidified into a hard, crippling knot.
The rowdy Michigan fans mocked us and threw garbage, causing security to go into the aisles. In the stands in front of us, there were four OSU guys who were shirtless, spelling out Ohio with chest paint. Watching them shiver made me even colder. The temperature was below freezing now, and I kept moving, doing routine after routine mostly to stay warm.
“Come on, defense!” I yelled. “D-fence!” The rest of the cheerleaders joined in, but they weren’t as energetic as they could be. Like me, they could feel it slipping away.
The sun had set more than an hour ago, and the bright lights of the stadium lit every blade of turf grass. On the field, Jay got set at the line. He’d struggled right along with the rest of his offense. All three times Radcliff had sent the ball Jay’s direction, Tariq had broken up the pass.
They’d have to try a pass now. It was third and ten, and our defense had their run game all figured out.
It was a bad, high snap to Radcliff, and he lost valuable time hauling it down. Whatever throw he wanted to make seemed to disappear and he scrambled to his left, rolling toward Jay. I wanted Radcliff to throw it to eighty-eight, but not if it was going to be a bad decision, and everything about his posture screamed he was rushed and off-balance.
Michigan’s QB unleashed a spiral toward Jay, but it was underthrown, forcing him to cut his route short and come back to the ball. He couldn’t make it in time. Tariq didn’t even slow down as he slid into the path of the ball and intercepted it.
No! And . . . yes!
We had the ball, and new life flooded in me. Jay went from offense to defense in a split second, tearing after Tariq. Holy shit, my man could run. He was a blur of blue and yellow, racing after the ball that was supposed to be his. My mouth dropped open to shout something, although I had no idea what, as Jay seemed to find a new gear and launched forward.
He collided with Tariq in a thunderous blow I could feel from sixty yards away. It rattled the teeth in my skull when they crashed to the ground. The stadium seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief that Jay had prevented total disaster, but then it was quiet.
“Kayla,” Courtney said.
There was panic in her voice, which I didn’t understand. Her face was full of fear. Had she seen something I hadn’t? Had Jay stripped the ball back from Tariq? Was something wrong? I peered back downfield, squinting to try to see better.
Oh.
No.
Breath halted in my lungs. As Tariq was slow to get up, Jay didn’t move at all.
-40-
KAYLA
The man I loved lay on the turf. I’d thought I was cold before, but it was nothing compared to what I felt now. My knees went weak, and my heart lurched to a stop. No, a broken voice in my head screamed. Get up.
Get up, Jay!
If he was going out of this game, I was too.
I’d follow him back into the locker room. Security could just try to stop me. I didn’t care about the score, or football, or anything else. All that mattered was knowing how bad he was hurt and being there for him, any way I could.
Trainers scurried onto the field, but before they could reach him, a blue-gloved hand shot up. I gasped loudly, feeling like I’d been punched with relief. One of his Michigan teammates reached down and pulled Jay to his feet. He seemed okay as he stood and talked to the trainers.
As he trotted off the field with the rest of his offense, his helmet turned toward me. I put my hand on my heart and gave a look that said, You scared the hell out of me. He seemed to nod in understanding.
The cheerleaders around me started a chant with newfound energy, but I needed another moment to recover. I’d thought his whole future was in jeopardy two seconds ago, and I’d been ready to walk away from this game. Me. The impact of it all knocked me back.
Samantha’s words ran through me once again. It’s just football.
The Ohio State offense got set. Everyone was on their feet. The crowd screamed. Stomped. Prayers were whispered under breaths.
Our quarterback stepped back and launched the ball in the air. It soared twenty yards downfield, where an OSU player in double coverage leapt for it. The mass of hands strained and jumped for the ball, and came down, falling into a heaping pile.
The referees ran in, pulling them apart—
The ball was in Ohio State hands. I stood in hysterical disbelief as the ref signaled, throwing his arms up.
The voice was so loud, it could have been God himself. “Touchdown, Ohio State.”
I wanted to both sink to my knees and jump for joy, but instead I had to dodge a half-empty cup of beer a Michigan fan chucked at us cheerleaders.
“Go for two?” Sean asked.
I shook my head. God hated a coward, but he also hated a fool. “No way. Take the extra point and go to overtime.” Momentum had swung our way.
Every person in Michigan and Ohio watched for Coach Vaughn’s decision. Maybe everyone in the entire country.
He didn’t make us wait long. The field goal team headed out onto the grass, under boos from gutsy fans who wanted the game over now. The ball was booted and tumbled end over end through the uprights.
I got down on the ground and cranked out my fourteen pushups, staring at the freezing cold ground while smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. When I stood up, I peered over at the Wolverine’s sideline and spied Jay with his hands on his hip, his coat nowhere to be found. He was probably too stressed with the game to notice if he was cold.
The game clock ran out after a squib kick bounced and rolled chaotically through the field and ate up the remaining time.
Sweet baby Jesus, The Game was heading into overtime.
As the captains of each team met the referees in the center of the field, fat white snowflakes began to waft down. It looked magical under the stadium lights. I watched the flakes melt against helmets and tried to take a mental picture to last forever in my memory.
We lost the coin toss, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. In college OT rules, both sides got a possession of the ball, and after the series was over, whoever had the most points was the winner.
Our offense lined up on Michigan’s 25-yard line. Breath visibly streamed from beneath facemasks, but everyone else held theirs as our quarterback delivered the count. As soon as the ball was snapped, players collided with each other.
It was a running play. The carrier pushed through a hole, fought through a tackle, and—
The ball was stripped from his hands! Another fumble.
“No!” I cried. “Again?”
The ball bounced on the grass as all the players chased after it, and my hope died as a blue jersey fell on it.
The smattering of Ohio State fans in the crowd looked stunned. Some pulled their hair out. Others covered their mouth as if wanting to hold in their shock. A fist fight between fans started but was quickly broken up by security.
Reality fell on me faster than the snow. We were going to lose.