Songs for Cricket by Laine, E. (ebook reader .TXT) 📕

the gym.” He pointed to a building off in the distance.

“I’m not a cheerleader,” I said with my spine ramrod straight.

“Fine, but you can watch your boyfriend from the stands,” he said with a pointed finger in that direction.

I narrowed my focus at the coach, afraid I might glance in Shepard’s direction.

My face was a fireball of flames as I spoke. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He scratched at the hairless crown of his head. “Fine. No matter why you’re here, if you’re doing an article or a research paper, you can’t be on the field.”

My moment had arrived. It was now or never. I blurted the first thing that popped in my head.

“What if I’m here for tryouts?”

I wasn’t sure if the silence was due to my tunnel vision as I silently freaked out over what would happen next. Or was everyone waiting, like me, for how the coach was going to respond. But it wasn’t him who spoke.

“I think we should give her a chance,” Billy said, having stepped into the gap, blocking my view of the coach.

He gave me a broad smile before turning and repeating his statement to the coach who moved forward to step around Billy.

“Have you played before?” Coach asked me.

I wouldn’t let his intense eyes break me. “With my brothers.”

I didn’t point them out. Though, I could see them out of the corner of my eye staring wide-eyed at me.

“With no training, tell me, what position do you see yourself in because though this is a game, this is not a game.” When I started to speak, he held up a hand. “Let me guess, you fancy yourself a quarterback?”

“No, sir.” I’d added that last bit out of respect. He needed to know I was serious. “Kicker.”

His bushy brows shot up. Billy stepped in again.

“Give her a shot,” he said.

Coach waved his hand as some other guys jumped in to chant something inaudible to encourage me. He silenced everyone with that one motion of his hand slicing through the air.

“Fine. Give me a ball.”

He held up his hand, and one was tossed to him from out of nowhere. “Who’s going to hold the ball?”

Billy stepped forward but so did Shepard. Shep’s eyes locked on mine, and though I didn’t want him to be there if I failed, he was my best hope. He’d held the ball for me countless times. I nodded in his direction.

Coach tossed the ball to him. I ignored everyone and walked toward the middle of the field, forcing my worries deep into my gut. If I had a prayer of making the team, I had to do this. I would prove myself worthy.

6

shepard

Though gritted teeth, I said to Finley, “A little warning.”

“Why? You guys would have tried to stop me.”

I wanted to yank her to a halt and tell her I wouldn’t have. But all eyes were on us.

“Fifty yards,” someone yelled.

I turned around, walking backward, ready to protest, but Finley said, “It’s fine.”

I pivoted forward. “That’s five yards more than your longest.”

She shrugged, leaving me to shake my head. “This is a bad idea.”

“I can do it,” she said.

The Farrows were all stubborn. If she didn’t make it, they wouldn’t take her seriously. It would be better for her to kick within her range so it would be a sure thing. I said nothing, though. She was probably nervous, and I didn’t want to add to it.

I kneeled at approximately the thirty-three-yard line because it was another seventeen yards to the goal post.

“You’ve got this,” I said.

She gave me a small smile and a nod of her head as she stepped back. I’d never really prayed before, but I did now. I put the ball on the ground with two fingers instead of one. I wanted to make absolutely sure it was steady for her.

After centering herself and taking a few deep breaths, she rocked forward twice and then moved toward the ball with the grace of the dance classes she’d taken growing up. But her eyes were focused like they were when she was aiming at a soccer goal. I’d gone to several of her games even when she didn’t know I was there.

Her kick was perfect in execution. Collectively, everyone held their breath as the ball took flight. It was that surreal moment when it headed straight for the goal post. Only it bounced off the crossbar and headed back our way.

I closed my eyes as the guys on the sidelines went wild, probably because she’d gotten close. When I opened them again, Coach was waving her off.

“Wait,” I said, jumping to my feet. “Let’s see if Bryant can do it.”

Bryant was the current kicker. I didn’t know all my teammates by name, but I knew his. We’d followed all the games from last year, and he’d missed several key scores. I may not have liked Billy, but when he rallied with me in order to help Finley get another shot, I inwardly gave him some respect.

Our kicker wasn’t happy. According to his stats, he wasn’t guaranteed to make the kick either. He was visibly pissed when he walked on the field with a different guy to hold the ball for him.

We stood off to the side, and I leaned in to whisper to Finley, my hand finding her lower back.

“He can’t make this.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

The guy completely shanked it. It went far and wide barely crossing the goal line.

When Bryant balked about Finley being unproven, I yelled, “So what’s your best?”

The glare I got from him meant I wasn’t making any friends by siding with a girl no less.

He didn’t speak, just moved to the twenty-five-yard line. His shot went through the goal post easy but a lot to the right.

Finley’s best was forty-seven yards. So twenty-five yards would be a cake walk for her.

“Let’s do this,” I told her, hating when she walked forward and disconnected our contact.

I set the ball, and watched my girl count her steps back. Then she