Girls in Pants - Ann Brashares [85]
Her entire team and roughly half the fans erupted in cheers. Telepathically she warned them not to lose focus yet, and being in sync as they were, they seemed to receive the message.
Now Eric’s team got their turn.
There was no question whom he’d choose to kick. Jerome Lewis was probably the best player in the camp. He walked out to the penalty mark.
Bridget’s team watched her breathlessly. They knew she had something up her sleeve. She poked Naughton in the shoulder. “Go get ’em,” she said.
He looked surprised, like he didn’t think she actually meant it.
“Go!” she yelled.
He went. Slowly. Everybody was whispering and chattering as they watched his slow march to the goal. Even the refs looked back at her as if to say, “Are you sure this is what you mean?” She waited until Naughton was in position before she nodded to the ref.
For once Eric was staring directly at her. He was competitive, sure, but now he looked more concerned for her sanity. His players were smiling at each other smugly in the center circle.
Bridget put her eyes on Naughton and kept them there. He needed to know she believed in him.
According to camp rules, this was sudden death overtime. If Lewis made the shot, the shootout would continue to the next round. If he missed it, the game was over.
The ref blew his whistle. Usually, as the opposing coach, you hoped for the kicker to blunder it. In the strange case of Naughton, it was the opposite. Please let this guy get a good shot off, Bridget thought.
Lewis launched a magnificent shot. The entire camp was perfectly silent as they watched the ball stab through the air toward the goal. Naughton seemed to jump the very instant the ball left Lewis’s foot. That was one thing, Bridget decided. Naughton had incredible eyes.
The ball flew, Naughton leaped, and the two came together at the very uppermost corner of the goal. Naughton pulled the ball out of the air and landed with it in his hands. He looked so surprised at his accomplishment that he stumbled and let the ball dribble from his grasp. Luckily it dribbled out of the goal rather than into it.
Stunned, the crowd burst into cheers. Bridget watched with pleasure and pride as her team rushed the goal and carried Naughton out on their shoulders. They carried him to his coach, placing him at her feet. Amid the cheering, she hugged him and planted a fat kiss on his cheek. He seemed to like that.
She graciously allowed them to dump the icy contents of the water cooler on her head. Then it was time to shake hands with their opponents. They lined up, Bridget at the back, and slapped or shook hands. The last two to come face to face were the coaches.
“You win. Of course,” Eric said gallantly, bowing to her like she was a Japanese businessman and not a girl who loved him to oblivion.
She couldn’t help locking on his eyes for a moment. I didn’t, though, did I?
“Lenny. Hey. It’s Bee. I’m fine. I really am. Stop worrying right now! But I do want to talk to you. I’m ready to come home. I miss you so bad. Hey! I heard the baby’s name! I love it! Was it Carmen’s idea? She must have laughed for an hour. Call me…no, never mind. It’s impossible to call me here. I’ll call you. And don’t worry! Okay? I miss you.” Beeeeep.
I have Immortal longings in me.
—William Shakespeare
Lena thrust her portfolio at Annik. She was girding herself for a long wait, and suddenly feeling strangely impatient. But it wasn’t like that. Annik put down her pencil, put on her glasses, and began flipping through right away.
Not three minutes later she closed it and looked up.
“It doesn’t matter if you get the scholarship,” she said.
Lena cocked her head in confusion. “It matters to me,” she said.
“You will get it,” Annik said, almost dismissively. “Unless the committee guys are blind or completely idiotic.” She smiled at Lena. “The reason it doesn’t matter is because you’ve done it. Whatever happens after is