Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [39]
The ball still hovering dangerously at the Flames’ end of the field, Charles Senior focused his attention on Erik—sweeper, a player who needed lightning-fast reflexes because his job was to defend the critical area between the goal line and fullbacks. “Stay on the ball, Erik! Be sharp. Watch for the breakaway pass.”
Next to Charles stood Charlie’s mother, Francine, hands clasped in front of her, every muscle tense as she leaned slightly toward the field. She didn’t yell, gesture, or command attention in any way. Not one to be demonstrative, Fran exhibited absorption in the game by more subtle means: Her eyes rarely left her only child. No matter where the ball was, she focused on one thing only. Charlie.
The fullback—Charlie’s closest friend, Grant—stole the ball from a Raptor and controlled it with ease, confidently kicking it back to his fellow player, Bryce, the goalie. The Flames’ fans breathed a temporary sigh of relief, knowing Bryce would kick the ball a good ways down the field. Assuming the ball would move in that direction, the Flames positioned themselves to run that way.
Bryce took his time, using more seconds off the clock. When he reached down for the ball, he scanned the entire field to locate his fellow teammates. Decided to give it to Charlie, their best ball handler. Odds were the ball was safest at Charlie’s feet.
But for whatever reason, the kick was not the direct shot he’d intended. Nor was Charlie as quick to react as Bryce expected. At the last moment, a Raptor cut in front of Charlie; the ball hit him in the chest and the Raptor allowed it to fall toward his feet, expertly trapping it. Charlie had been taken off guard, and the Raptors took advantage of his lack of movement to seize the opportunity. They passed the ball to their star center forward, a blond with nimble feet.
The Raptors had maneuvered a breakaway.
The fans could sense optimism in the Raptors’ movements. The quick shift of power.
Parents, siblings, friends, all the fans on the sidelines felt the mounting tension as they pressed forward to watch the footrace. Though Erik ran neck and neck with the potential scorer, everyone knew the outcome likely depended on one person: Bryce. At that point, it was as though the charging Raptor and the goalie were the only two competitors on the field.
These few seconds seemed like an eternity to the Flames’ fans. Even more so, to Charlie. His body—which usually responded with abnormally fast reflexes, making him an exceptional soccer player—seemed to react in slow motion. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, couldn’t breathe right. And then as he turned to his left, an annoying dull ache in his right shin became a stabbing pain. In that moment, no matter how hard Charlie willed it to happen, he simply couldn’t move his body as quickly as he desired. Rather than running alongside the opposing team’s forward and giving his own fullback and sweeper the defensive support they needed, Charlie was a full stride behind.
You should’ve been the first defender, he told himself, panicking. Catch up. Get there.
But Charlie couldn’t catch up. And one step was all that was needed.
For though Bryce placed his body in the best position possible, the Raptor expertly used the inside of his foot to kick the ball wide to the left. At the last moment, Bryce sensed he’d guessed wrong. In one final, futile effort,