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  As a whistle blew to signal that the game was about to start, both teams ran off to their benches. Dana noticed Benton lagging toward the back of the group. He waved at his neighbor, but Benton had his head down. Dana was anxious to talk to Benton because they hadn’t seen each other much since the fire. The Crawfords were temporarily living across town in an apartment.

  “Hey, Bent!” he called over.

  But before there was a chance to talk, Coach Kingsley clapped his hands to get the attention of his players. “Okay, you guys,” he said. “Gather round! Steve, you know what to say if you win the toss?”

  “Kick,” answered the tall, broad-shouldered center forward.

  “Right,” said the coach. “And Dana, you’ll take the position inside the circle with him. Remember, Steve, a quick tap to Dana. Dana, you boot it to Benton, run downfield, and look for his pass. Got it?”

  Both teams gathered at the center of the field, where the referee and two line judges were waiting. The referee asked the Cottoneer captain, Russ Anderson, to make the call. Then he flipped the coin.

  “Heads!” shouted Anderson.

  Heads it was. The Cottoneers chose to kick.

  The referee looked over at Steve. “Which goal?” he asked.

  The Anchors’ captain pointed to the south goal.

  As the players ran toward their positions, a loud noise burst out behind their bench. Six cheerleaders dressed in the team colors flung their arms in the air and kicked up their legs. They led the Anchors’ fans in a loud cheer.

  Jupiter, Saturn, Venus, Mars,

  Have you seen those Anchors stars?

  What a sight,

  What a treat

  We’re the team that can’t be beat!

  Meanwhile the teams got set on the field. Dana crouched anxiously in the right wing slot. Adrenaline rushed through his system as he waited for the opening kick.

  Seconds later, the ball came zooming across the field. The Cottoneer center had kicked the ball back to his halfback, who had aimed a kick to his right wing. But his kick was off. The ball landed midway between Lance and Abe. Both of them rushed toward it. About half the Cottoneers made for the same spot.

  But Lance got to the ball first. He dribbled it a few feet before booting it in Jack’s direction.

  Jack was in the clear. But in a matter of seconds, there were a half dozen Cottoneers swooping down on him. Dana knew he couldn’t stand and wait for the ball to come to him. He rushed over in Jack’s direction, looking for a pass.

  “Jack! Over here!” he yelled.

  Jack managed to get off a pass in his general direction. Dana lined himself up, planted his feet, and trapped the ball with his chest. He let it drop to the ground, then dribbled it toward the touchline.

  Through the sea of yellow-and-green uniforms downfield, he looked for someone in the clear. Where was Abe? Where was Steve?

  There was no time to waste. A Cottoneer was all over him. Dana tried to dribble the ball away. He just managed to avoid a steal when another Cottoneer halfback appeared at his side. He had to pass the ball quickly — or have it stolen.

  Fortunately Benton was right behind him. Dana wobbled a pass to him seconds before the tackler reached in with his foot. The Cottoneer had simply been too slow.

  Benton started to move the ball downfield, toward the Cottoneers’ goal. Dana saw him look around. Steve was covered all over like wallpaper by the defense. And Abe was too far off. But Dana had shaken loose and was running just slightly ahead of him. With a little luck, he’d have a clear shot at the goal.

  He figured Benton would pass the ball to him automatically. After all, that’s part of what halfbacks were supposed to do — get the ball to the front line. And the two of them had been a scoring combination throughout the season.

  But Benton kept on dribbling the ball, wasting valuable time.

  “Benton! Bent!” he shouted. “Over here!”

  It was too late. A bunch of Cottoneers had caught up with the Anchors’ midfielder. In a last-ditch effort to save the ball from a steal, Benton kicked it toward the sideline. It ricocheted off a Cottoneer and was about to go out of bounds. At the last second, Mike Vass made a run for it, but it bounced off his shin and over the line.

  The whistle blew.

  “Green ball!” shouted the ref.

  As the two teams lined up for the throw-in, Dana glanced over at Benton. He was about to shrug and signal “Better luck next time.” But he just couldn’t seem to catch Benton’s eye.

  3

  When the ball came into play, it was headed in Jack Nguyen’s direction. The Anchors’ center halfback snagged the ball between his shins, then passed it up to Abe Strom in the left wing position.

  The ball remained on the left side of the field, bouncing back and forth between the two teams’ offense and defense. For a moment, Dana had a chance to catch his breath. He noticed that Benton, several feet behind him, was coughing and gasping. Probably still has some smoke in his lungs, like Dad, Dana thought.

  Most of the time, he was able to put the fire out of his mind. But every now and then, it would creep back. When he thought of his father, trapped inside the Crawfords’ house, his mouth got dry. And then there had been the long wait until his mother called from the hospital to say that Mr. Bellamy was going to be okay. He couldn’t help thinking about that awful time.

  Dana shook his head. Not now, he thought. I have to keep my mind on the game and my eye on the ball.

  The Anchors’ offense had broken away from the cluster of Cottoneers and had crossed the midfield stripe. The ball was about twenty yards in front of the goal line. Steve tried to set up a kick, but he couldn’t shake off a Cottoneer defenseman. He tried to boot it toward Dana, but it wobbled back toward Benton instead.

  There were too many players from both teams between Benton and the goal. He had to pass the ball.

  Two Anchors were in good field position for a goal attempt. Dana had jogged downfield but was still only a dozen yards away from Benton. Lance was way across the field.

  Benton twisted around and booted the ball over to Lance.

  A Cottoneer swung in front of Lance, ready to intercept. But luckily Jack had shaken loose and got in the way. The ball bounced off his hip — in the wrong direction. A strong kick from a Cottoneer halfback sent it hurtling toward the Anchors’ goal. The Cottoneers’ offense raced after the ball.

  “Eyes up, Jazz!” Dana called as the two teams converged in the goal area. He jogged along beside the touchline in that direction, careful to stay out of the way. He knew that too many players “helping” the defense usually ended up causing a foul — or a goal.

  I could’ve had a shot back there, he thought. I wonder why Benton didn’t pass the ball to me. Probably just didn’t see me.

  A shout from the Cottoneers’ fans snapped Dana back to the game. He looked up just in time to see Fred Currier, the Cottoneers’ right wing, boot one in. The Anchors were now one goal in the hole.

  As the two teams got into position for the kick, Steve tried to rally the Anchors.

  “Come on, you guys,” he said. “Let’s get some teamwork going!”

  “Yeah,” shouted Dana. “Let’s go, Anchors!” Following Coach Kingsley’s instructions before the game, Dana joined Steve in the center circle for the kickoff.

  I only hope Benton is ready for the pass, he thought. He seems a little off his game today.

  The ref blew his whistle to signal the kickoff. Steve tapped the ball over to Dana. Dana trapped it smoothly, booted it back to Benton, and took off down the wing slot. As he turned to look for the pass back, he saw Benton stop the ball, look up, then begin dribbling in downfield.

  Why doesn’t he pass it to me like Coach told him to? Dana thought. Then Benton did pass it — to Steve, who almost missed it. Steve shot a surprised look at Dana, then started with the ball toward the Cottoneers’ goal.

  Dana kept running downfield about ten yards in from the touchline. He kept right up with Steve
, who gradually worked the ball toward the goal.

  So far, so good. The rest of the team managed to keep most of the Cottoneers out of the way. But one of their bigger players was bearing down on Steve.

  The Anchor captain must have seen the enemy approach. He was still too far for a goal kick. Instead, just breaking stride for a moment, he booted the ball over in Dana’s direction.

  Dana was all clear. There was no one near him, and he had a great shot at the goal. It was a golden opportunity.

  Then, out of nowhere, a flash of navy blue with red trim zoomed in between him and the ball. One of his own teammates had stolen the ball!

  The shock of jet black hair on a tall, lanky form told him exactly who it was. Benton!

  The Anchor halfback was traveling at lightning speed — away from Dana and straight toward the left side of the field. With a quick flick of his foot, he passed the ball to Abe.

  Abe dribbled it closer to the goal, just managing to keep it away from two Cottoneers trying to pry it loose. He was within the penalty area when one of the Cottoneers rammed into him from behind and knocked him on his backside.

  A whistle shrieked.

  “Direct free kick,” announced the referee. It was the Anchors’ chance to tie the score.

  “Make it good, Abe!” Dana called over to him.

  “You can do it!” echoed Steve.

  Abe didn’t even look at them. He got up and brushed the back of his shorts. Then, from the spot where he’d been hit, he kicked the ball toward the goal.

  His aim was off. The ball hit a goalpost and rebounded in an arc over Dana’s head.

  Dana turned to see if Benton was in position to stop the ball from traveling far upfield. With a thud, it landed directly in front of the right halfback. All he had to do was dribble it to one side and he’d be in a good position to pass.

  But Benton had turned away from the action. It looked as though he was coughing. The ball went right by him. Fortunately Jack was close enough to make a lunge for it. He scooped it away before the Cottoneers could claim it.

  “Jack!” called Dana. “Jack, on your right!”

  Dana could see a couple of Cottoneer uniforms closing in on the Anchor halfback. Benton was nearby, though, and managed to grab on to a short pass with the instep of his left foot. He dribbled the ball downfield, looking for a teammate in the clear.

  Once again, Dana was the logical choice. And once again, Benton went his own way. Only this time, he had barely moved when a Cottoneer tackler got in the way. In no time at all, the ball was skyrocketing back toward the Anchors’ goal.

  Dana was about to shout at Benton when he saw him lean over, hands on his knees, panting for breath.

  The first half’s not even over, and he’s already winded, Dana thought. He’ll never make it through the game.

  There was no time to worry about Benton. The ball was loose at midfield. There was a wild scramble. The same tackler who’d stolen it from Benton had it now. He was getting set for a pass to one of the Cottoneer wings.

  Dana made his move. He rushed right into the ball’s path and caught it smack on the side of his head. It hit him so hard, he was stunned for a second. When his head cleared, he saw that his block hadn’t done much good. The impact had knocked it out of bounds.

  The Cottoneer halfback threw the ball in from the sideline. One of the biggest guys in a green-and-yellow uniform wrenched it loose from the tangle of stabbing legs and booted it toward the Anchors’ goal.

  But Jazz was on his toes. He caught the ball in midair and quickly put it back into play, aiming it for Abe.

  The Anchors’ left wing was a little slow getting to the ball. A Cottoneer intercepted and sent the ball back toward the goal. It got as far as the penalty area, where fullback Tucker Fromm went after it. There was a race between him and the Cottoneers’ speedy right wing. They reached the ball at the same time. Each tried to shake it loose, kicking and stumbling in the attempt. Dana could only watch as their arms flapped wildly at their sides and their legs got all tangled up.

  For a second, it seemed that Tucker had the upper edge. He had managed to nudge the ball to one side when another Cottoneer cut in and stole it away.

  Coach Kingsley was shouting from the Anchors’ bench, “Defense! Defense!”

  The Cottoneers’ coach was yelling, “Kick! Kick!”

  Then a whistle blew, and the first half of the game was over.

  The Cottoneers had the lead: 1 – 0.

  “Down by one,” Dana grumbled out loud as he ran toward the bench. He noticed that Benton, a few feet to one side, was giving him an icy scowl.

  “What’s that look for?” asked Dana. “It wasn’t my fault they scored.”

  “Lucky they didn’t get another,” said Abe, coming between the two of them. “You practically gave them the ball with that head block.”

  “You’re nuts!” Dana protested. “It almost took my head off! It’s not like I messed up a pass or something!”

  “Knock it off, you guys,” said the coach. “Gather round.”

  The Anchors formed a small circle around him. They passed orange slices and water around. The coach let them catch their breath and cool off. Then he spoke up.

  “You’re playing it too tight,” he said. “You’re not spreading out and looking for opportunities. ‘Heads up’ means just that — keeping your eyes open. And working together. You have to start acting like a team. Got that?”

  “Got it!”

  “Rah!”

  “Go, Anchors!”

  The cheers rang out as the second half began.

  Within a few seconds of play, the Anchors had moved the ball deep into Cottoneer territory. Abe, Steve, and Dana passed the ball among themselves, looking for an opening.

  For a minute, it looked like Steve would get a chance to score. But a fast-moving Cottoneer made a move between him and the goal, blocking his path. Another defenseman worked his way over and wriggled the ball away. A quick kick started the ball back upfield toward the Anchors’ goal.

  “Behind you, Dana! Behind you!”

  He whirled around as Steve’s voice broke through. The ball had ricocheted off a Cottoneer and was sizzling on the ground toward him. It was going so fast, he barely was able to stop it. But he stuck out his foot, blocked the ball, then spun around toward the goal.

  Two fullbacks in green and yellow came charging toward him. He had to move fast. He spotted Steve darting toward the goal.

  Dribbling the ball to his left, he suddenly shifted his position and booted the ball over toward the middle of the field.

  Steve was waiting for it. He trapped it with the inside of his left foot and began to dribble it toward the goal.

  But two Cottoneers were in the way. They charged at him from opposite directions.

  Abe tried to help out, but he was trapped. Dana was closer to Steve than any of the other Anchors. He made for the right side of the goal and yelled, “Steve!”

  The Anchor captain squeezed out a pass in his direction. Dana ran straight at it and booted it toward the goal. He hoped it would get by an open space to the left, beyond the reach of the Cottoneer goalie.

  The ball just missed.

  It struck a goalpost and bounced off to the left side of the field, way out of play.

  Dana’s heart sank.

  He couldn’t remember when missing a goal had felt so bad.

  4

  Down in front of the stands, the Anchors’ cheer-leaders did their best to lift the team’s spirits.

  Come on Anchors,

  Really dig in,

  Show ’em you’re the team

  That’s going to win!

  Anchors! Anchors!

  Sis! Boom! Bah!

  Anchors! Anchors!

  Hip! Hip! Hoorah!

  As play continued, Dana didn’t feel much like cheering. But he couldn’t give up now. There was too much at stake.

  The Cottoneers controlled the ball for a long time without scoring. For a while it
looked as though the Anchors’ defense would wear them down. Anchors fullback Paul Crayton, who hadn’t seen much action in the first half, had come alive. It seemed as though he was everywhere now.

  “Way to go, Paul!” Dana called after a good block, which gave the Anchors control of the ball. Paul booted it out of the penalty area.

  Dana made a move for it, but Steve got there ahead of him. At least part of him did. The ball bounced off his right hip and rolled over toward Dana.

  By now, the Cottoneers were beginning to advance toward the Anchors’ right wing. He saw he wasn’t going to move very far with the ball. Looking around, he saw Benton, all by himself, down in the penalty area.

  Dana knew he should pass it to him. An assist that resulted in a goal was almost as good as a score. But the memory of Benton stealing the ball from him earlier made him hesitate.

  He waited one second too long. In that time, Cottoneers were all over Benton and the coast was no longer clear. Instead, Dana passed the ball to Jack, who came running up beside him, one step ahead of a Cottoneer tackler. Jack trapped the ball with his instep, then passed it right back to him.

  Dana was surprised by the quick return, but he took the ball, dribbled it a few feet, then got it within kicking distance of the goal — while a Cottoneer tackler was breathing down his neck. Suddenly their legs got tangled up with each other. The tackler fell and the whistle shrieked.

  “Tripping!” yelled the referee. Dana saw him pointing a stiff finger in his direction.

  He couldn’t believe it. The Cottoneer was as much at fault as he was! Still, he knew you couldn’t argue with a referee and win. He shook his head but kept his mouth shut.

  A free kick was called. Because the foul had occurred within the defending team’s penalty area, all players had to be outside the area. Dana tried to guess where the Cottoneer would aim his kick and positioned himself nearby.

  Well, at least I didn’t cost the team a goal, Dana said to himself, eyes on his opponent.

  He spoke too soon. The Cottoneer booted the ball to a teammate centerfield. The receiving player didn’t waste any time booting it even farther down-field toward the Anchors’ territory.