Chapter 48

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Coach Gilly was about to lose it

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Coach Gilly was about to lose it. He was pacing the sidelines, tracking the refs with hawk eyes. It was the closest game we'd had all season. The stories about St. Peter's, that we had all prayed were simply glorified rumors, turned out to be true. They came into the game channeling their inner beasts. Solid brick walls that came down on us with a force that was filled with determination.

The offensive line looked worn and beaten, and it was still the first half. Joseph was hunched over, gasping to steady his rapid breathing. He'd gotten slammed while trying to protect Shane in the pocket. He was the last one standing against three defenders. Each of them growling and looking to get the sack. The second the ball left Shane's hand and sailed overhead, Joseph fell back under six hundred pounds of pure muscle.

My brother was determined to match their aggression as the defense charge through the line. It didn't matter how many players he had to get through. The amount of resistance he met. None of it. He wanted to bring the monsters down to our level. If he could weaken one link, he could open the gate that would change the whole game. That was his goal. It wasn't about getting to the quarterback or stripping the ball. He was looking to make that one play that would give us a fighting chance.

The clatter of gear as the ball was snapped to St. Peter's quarterback had the breath catching in my throat. The numbers on the scoreboard were ticking away, getting closer to the one minute mark. It was the second down, and we were a touchdown away from tying up the game. Lucas had a minute to make his move.

"I know that look," Finn grumbled beside me.

"There's no look," I spoke softly, my eyes fixed on the ball. It looked like it was an attempt to avoid being pushed back a few yards. The glimmer of hope on my teammates' faces didn't dare to show on mine. I could see the play as it unfolded. The curse of being as observant as I was, I knew it wasn't just a quick release. He had two men down field that were waiting to be on the receiving end.

"You hoping for a miracle injury that won't blow back on us."

"I'd settle for just one of them to go down for a few plays," I shrugged. "A nice shot to the abdomen should do the trick."

"Joe's right. You're scary when that brain of yours starts working."

"You know I'm right."

"Third down. There's still forty yards to go before the game is fourteen to twenty one. What would you do? Would you pass it, run it or hand it off?"

"Running it would only set me up for an easy fumble. I could lob it like Brady jr. out there. The chances of one of your three shadows intercepting it."

"And the hand off?"

"You would become a target for their dynamic tag team efforts."

"Then what do you say we get a plan together. Something that we can use that will fake them out. It'll be a single use play, but it would throw them off."

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