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Nate raced downfield, trying to catch up with the action. He shot a quick glance at the scoreboard.

  The Strikers were ahead 2–1 with only a few minutes to play, but the Rush were on the attack. Nate and his teammates were working hard to hang on to the lead.

  Nate stretched his leg out for a steal and missed. The Rush midfielder floated a threatening ball toward the Strikers goal. Nate held his breath as Cam snapped the ball out of the air and tossed a quick pass to Sergio near the middle of the pitch.

  Nate stopped, turned, and raced upfield. Sergio drove a long pass down the middle, hoping to catch the Rush by surprise.

  His strategy worked! The ball floated past the Rush defenders. Nate gathered it in at full stride and barreled toward the Rush goal. Looking up from the ball, Nate could see the Rush keeper coming out of the goal to challenge the breakaway.

  Nate touched the ball forward…a little too far. The keeper took two quick steps and leaped headlong for the ball. He grabbed it just as Nate was about to regain control. The keeper rolled on his side with the ball safely tucked to his chest. Nate tumbled over the keeper and rolled several times in the hard dirt and worn grass near the Rush net.

  Nate looked at the referee, wondering if he might call a dangerous play penalty. But the ref called, “Play on!” The ball was already headed in the other direction.

  Nate hustled back, slapping the dirt off his white shorts as he ran. The Rush were on the attack again, buzzing around the Strikers goal. The ball skipped across the end line.

  The referee blew his whistle. “Corner kick!” he called, pointing to the corner.

  “Get back! Get back!” Coach Lyn shouted, frantically waving his arms. Nate sprinted downfield to help on defense. He glanced at the clock. Less than two minutes to go, he thought. If we can clear it out of our zone we may hang on to win…and get three points.

  The scene in front of the Strikers goal was chaos. Players pushed to get position while other players shouted instructions.

  “Mark somebody!”

  “Pick ‘em up!”

  “Look out for number 10!”

  The ball soared into the clutch of players. A header sent the ball down toward the players’ feet. It pinballed around until the ball squirted past Nate to the top of the penalty area. A Rush defender stepped up and blasted a low shot toward the goal. Somehow the ball squeezed its way through the tangle of arms and legs.

  Cameron leaped to his left. Too late. The ball tucked inside the post and settled in the corner of the net.

  Goal!

  Nate and Sergio looked up helplessly, their faces twisted in agony as the Rush celebrated around them. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Sergio shouted to the sky.

  The score was tied, 2–2.

  Cam fished the ball out of the net.

  “Come on, come on!” Coach Lyn shouted. “Hurry up. We still have time.”

  But the ball was hardly back in play when the referee blew his whistle and crossed his arms above his head. The game was over at 2–2. Another tie.

  Coach Lyn tried to keep up the team’s spirits. “We’ve still got one more game,” he pointed out. “You guys played well. The bounces just didn’t go our way. We’ve still got a chance. We just have to practice and play even harder next week.”

  Nate, Sergio, and Cameron walked away from the pitch in a daze. The tie felt as heavy as a loss.

  “I can’t believe that last shot made it through all those players,” Cam said, shaking his head. “I never saw it until the last second. And then it was too late.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Nate said, remembering how the ball had skipped by him. “We never should have let him get the shot.”

  “Man, another tie,” Sergio said. “They should have overtime or shoot-outs or something. Anything but another tie.”

  Nate looked around the SoccerPlex. The fields were filled with teams of all ages. “They’ve got to get all the games in,” he said. “No way they could play a bunch of overtimes. Anyway, I think shoot-outs are kind of bogus. I mean, letting someone run up on a wide-open shot from twelve yards away isn’t really soccer.”

  “You can say that again,” Cam said.

  “So where are we in the standings?” Sergio asked.

  Nate took out his phone and pulled up the website. The league standings appeared on the screen.

  Team Wins Losses Ties Points

  Monarchs 7 0 1 22

  Devils 6 1 1 19

  Strikers 5 0 3 18

  Sergio looked away from the screen. “Man, we’re in third place!”

  “Yeah, but the Devils play the Monarchs next week,” Nate noted. “The Monarchs will beat ‘em, and when they do we’ll be back in second place—and in the championship game—if we can get a win against the Barracudas.”

  “Why should the Monarchs beat the Devils?” Sergio asked. “Win, lose, or tie, the Monarchs are already in the championship game. They’re not going to beat the Devils just for us.”

  “What are the times for the games next week?” Cameron asked.

  Nate tapped some keys and the league schedule for the next Saturday appeared.

  Saturday—November 12

  9:00 a.m. United v. Vipers

  10:30 a.m Monarchs v. Devils

  Noon Strikers v. Barracudas

  1:30 p.m. Rapids v. Sharks

  3:00 p.m. Sabres v. Rush

  “The Monarchs play at 10:30 a.m. and we play at noon,” Nate said.

  Sergio let out a disappointed sigh. “At least we’ll know before the game if we have a chance to play for the championship.”

  “We’ll have a chance,” Nate said, trying to sound certain.

  “How can you be so sure?” Cam asked.

  “Because we’re going to be here at 10:30 and root like crazy for the Monarchs,” Nate said.

  Sergio groaned. “Man, things are worse than I thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean now we actually have to root for the Monarchs!”

  Chapter 14

  “Let’s go, Monarchs! Come on, hustle back! Get the ball!”

  “Comeback time!”

  Nate checked the scoreboard for the millionth time.

  Nothing had changed. The Monarchs still trailed 2–1 with just five minutes to play. Nate could feel time—and the Strikers’ hopes of playing in the championship game—slipping away.

  The Monarchs had scored first, grabbing the lead on a sweet goal by Hunter Thomas, who’d redirected a low, skidding pass into the back of the net. But then the Monarchs seemed to relax and the Devils came charging back with two unanswered goals. They had kept the action in the Monarchs end of the pitch for most of the game.

  Standing on the sidelines with Sergio and Cameron, Nate felt helpless. There was nothing he could do but scream for the Monarchs at the top of his lungs. And his cheers couldn’t change the cold truth. If the Monarchs didn’t come back to tie or win, it didn’t matter what the Strikers did in their noon game against the Barracudas.

  They would be out of the championship game.

  “Come on! Get the ball!”

  “Need a goal.”

  “Keep working, Monarchs!”

  Sergio kicked the dirt. “I told you they’re not going to win,” he said, almost spitting the words out. “The Monarchs don’t care. They know they’re already in the championship game. Hunter and those guys aren’t going to beat the Devils just for us. I’m betting they don’t even want to play us again.”

  “There’s still time,” Cam said.

  “Dig deep, Monarchs!” Nate yelled.

  “Go for the goal, Hunter!”

  “Put some pressure on.”

  Luke Jaworski stepped in front of a Devils crossing pass and bolted upfield. He dribbled past a couple of defenders and slipped a pass to Hunter on the left. The Monarchs forward controlled the ball with the slightest touch, then cut sharply to the right to create space between him and the defender. Hunter brought his right leg back and drove a hard shot toward t
he upper right-hand corner of the net.

  Nate stood with his mouth wide open and his eyes as big as dinner plates. The Devils goalkeeper leaped straight out, his hands stretching for the ball. The ends of his fingers glanced against the ball.

  But the ball had too much pace for him. It changed course only slightly and sailed into the upper corner of the net.

  Goal! The game was tied, 2–2.

  Nate, Sergio, and Cameron jumped up and down, celebrating as if their favorite team had won the World Cup.

  They had barely stopped cheering when Hunter aimed a crossing pass to the front of the Devils goal. Taj Oquendo, a Monarchs forward, leaped and snapped his head forward, sending the ball into the back of the net.

  Another goal! The Monarchs had scored again.

  “Yes!” Nate shouted and thrust a fist into the air.

  “I don’t believe it,” Sergio said.

  Nate was almost laughing. “Yeah, I thought you said the Monarchs wouldn’t beat the Devils for us.”

  “Okay, okay.” Sergio held up his hands in surrender. “I’m so happy to be wrong.”

  “Come on,” Cam said. “They’ve got this game won. Let’s go over to our field and get warmed up. We’ve still got to win our game.”

  Nate could barely feel his feet touching the ground as the three friends ran over to the field. They saw some Strikers warming up and gave them the news.

  “The Monarchs won!”

  “What was the score?”

  “They came from behind to score two goals in the last minute and won 3–2. We’re in the championship game if we win today.”

  The news of the Monarchs win surged through the team like a bolt of electricity, giving them a burst of energy. The Strikers warmed up at a faster pace, and it seemed like they couldn’t wait to get on the pitch.

  Sure enough, their team went on the attack right away, passing the ball and always staying a step ahead of the Barracudas. The Strikers kept the ball moving—to the wing…back to the defense…into the middle…back to the wing, where Nate lifted a centering pass that found Anton in front for a header.

  Thunk! The net jumped back.

  Goal! The Strikers were ahead 1–0 after two minutes.

  Still, they didn’t let up. Sergio stole a pass near midfield and burst by two defenders, then blasted a shot on goal. The ball dipped at the last moment and bounced off the diving goalkeeper’s chest, spinning wildly near the face of the goal.

  Sensing the opportunity, Nate swooped in from the wing and knocked it into the net with a swift left-footed touch.

  Goal!

  As Nate ran toward the sideline and skidded along his knees in celebration, he knew.

  The Strikers were ahead 2–0.

  There was no way his team was going to lose today.

  The Strikers were going to play in the championship game.

  Chapter 15

  Nate looked across the locker room and saw Hunter lacing up his sneakers.

  “Hey, Hunter!” he called. “Thanks for saving the Strikers season on Saturday.”

  Hunter looked up. “We didn’t do it for you guys,” he explained. “We just didn’t want to lose to the Devils.”

  Sergio slammed his locker shut. “We’ll make you regret it,” he said. “On Saturday.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The class hustled out of the locker room into the gym, where Coach Roland was shouting in an excited voice. “Come on, let’s go! We got a lot to do today. Move it. Move it!”

  “Wonder why he’s so crazed,” Cameron said.

  Nate pointed at the strips of tape stuck about ten yards apart on the gym floor. “I think I know,” he said.

  Coach Roland moved to the middle of the gym and clapped his hands. “Hustle up, guys,” he said. “We’re timing the shuttle run today. We’re going to see how quick and agile you are. So let’s get warmed up and do some stretching.”

  As Nate looked for a space on the crowded gym floor to warm up, he felt someone grab his elbow. It was Hunter.

  “Last time we tied,” he said. “How about the same bet today?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Roland’s going to time us in the shuttle run. So how about the four Monarchs against the four Strikers again?”

  “To get warmed up for Saturday?” Nate smiled.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Nate did some quick calculations. We’ve got a good chance to beat those guys this time. Sergio and I are fast. Cam isn’t that fast, but he’s pretty quick. And so’s Stevie.

  “So, same deal. If we win, you guys have to buy each of us an ice cream sandwich,” Hunter said, interrupting Nate’s thoughts and reviewing the terms of the bet.

  “Okay, but if we—”

  “Right,” Hunter agreed. “We buy yours if you win.” He put out his hand. “Bet?”

  Nate shook Hunter’s hand. “Bet,” he said. Then he slipped over to where Sergio, Cameron, and Stevie were stretching and explained the bet in a low voice. The boys nodded. They were all in.

  After they’d run a couple of quick laps around the gym, Coach Roland blew his whistle and shouted, “Line up against the wall and count off by fours!”

  Nate made sure he would be teamed with the other Strikers. He could see Hunter and his teammates doing the same thing.

  Coach Roland continued with his instructions. “Most of you have done this before. The tape on the floor is set ten yards apart. The idea is that you run across the gym four times.” For emphasis he held up four fingers. “Be sure you touch the tape. If you don’t, that’s a three-second penalty. Two guys from each group will be judges. They’ll stand right there to make sure you touch the tape. Everybody understand? Okay, let’s go!”

  The boys broke into their four-man teams. “I’ll go first,” Sergio said. “Get us off to a good start. And Nate, why don’t you go last to nail down the win?”

  Nate nodded and walked over to the tape on the far side of the gym to take his place as one of the judges.

  “Judges, if the runner doesn’t touch the tape, raise your hand,” Coach Roland said in his final instructions. “Okay, runners get ready. On your mark…get set…go!”

  Sergio bolted across the gym. He reached out and touched the tape and scrambled back a step ahead of the other runners. When Sergio came back, he reached out again. This time, Nate could see several inches of the wooden floor between Sergio’s fingertips and the tape.

  Sergio hadn’t touched the tape!

  Nate’s hand shot up to signal a penalty.

  Sergio blew across the finish line several steps ahead of the other runners. But his satisfied smile disappeared when he turned and saw Nate’s hand in the air. He was steaming when he walked up to Nate.

  “Why’d you call a penalty on me?”

  “You missed the tape,” Nate said, just stating the facts. “By a lot. I had to call it.”

  “Yeah, but that’s a three-second penalty. We’ll never win now.”

  “We’ll make it up,” Nate said as the runners and judges switched places and got ready for the next round. “And who knows, maybe the Monarchs will get a penalty.”

  “Yeah right.” Nate could hear anger in Sergio’s voice. “Like when they gave us the ball back after you kicked it out of bounds? No way the Monarchs are calling a penalty on themselves.”

  “They beat the Devils for us instead of throwing the game to help themselves later, didn’t they?” Nate said. Sergio didn’t say a thing.

  Cameron and Stevie ran their races. Their times were good, not great, and they touched the tape each time. The Monarchs didn’t have any penalties in their second and third races. Nate knew he had some time to make up as he toed the starting line.

  “You’d better turn on the jets,” Sergio said, eyeing the stopwatch in his hand. “We’re probably way behind the Monarchs because of that stupid penalty.”

  Nate didn’t say anything. He looked across the gym and saw Hunter getting ready to make his run, two lanes awa
y. Nate was determined to run the best time he could. Maybe I can at least beat Hunter, he thought.

  “On your mark…get set…go!”

  Nate burst off the line. He stopped just short of the tape, reached out, and felt the tape under his fingertips. Then he dashed back in the other direction. Three more times across the gym, and Nate flashed across the finish line a good two steps ahead of Hunter.

  Nate bent over to catch his breath. When he looked up he got a shock. Two lanes over, Luke Jaworski was standing with his hand in the air.

  The Monarchs were calling a penalty on themselves!

  “Good work, guys!” Coach Roland called. “I’ll post the times on the wall outside the gym. Now get ready for your next class.”

  As the boys filed out of the gym and into the locker room, Nate stopped Luke. “What happened on the last race?” he asked.

  The Monarch player shrugged and looked over at Hunter.

  “I guess I messed up and missed the tape,” Hunter said.

  “And I had to call it,” Luke added.

  Nate didn’t say anything. But the look on his face must have told the Monarchs what he was thinking.

  “Don’t be so surprised,” Luke said. “You did the same thing.”

  “Yeah,” Hunter agreed. “And you kicked the ball out of bounds when Luke got hurt, remember?” He pushed open the door to the locker room. “Listen,” he called back, “we want to beat you, not cheat you.”

  After class, Nate found Sergio standing in front of the times posted on the wall. He showed Nate the total times on the calculator on his phone.

  Nate 8.7 Hunter 11.8*

  Sergio 11.9* Luke 9.1

  Stevie 9.1 Taj 9.3

  Cam 9.4 Mikael 9.5

  Total 39.1 39.7

  * Three-second penalty added

  “We won!” Sergio said. “By less than a second.”

  “That means the Monarchs would have won if they hadn’t…” Nate didn’t finish his sentence.

  “Yeah,” Sergio said. Then he saw what Nate was looking at. Hunter and Luke were emerging from the locker room. “Looks like you guys are buying,” he said, letting them look at the times on his phone.