The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 135: The Drive

Zac ran back onto the field.

The scoreboard glowed above the end zone.

Jaguars 10.

Ravens 0.

Second quarter.

Still early enough to fix it.

Late enough for everyone to start wondering whether they would.

His ribs ached where the linebacker had buried a hit into him. Every breath pressed against the sore spot. Sweat cooled under his pads, and the cold made his skin prickle beneath the uniform.

He jogged into the huddle, and ten faces turned toward him again.

Mason had dirt smeared across one cheek, his mouthguard hanging halfway out as his chest rose hard. Dylan stood stiff across from him, eyes narrowed behind his facemask, still angry from the high throw. The running back kept flexing his fingers like he was trying to shake the nerves out of them. The linemen breathed through open mouths, shoulders heaving under black jerseys.

Nobody looked calm.

That was fine.

Calm could come later.

Right now, they only had to stay in the game.

Zac saw the waiting differently this time. They were looking at him because the next play had to come from him. A call. A direction. A decision they could all move with.

One play.

Then another.

He looked at Mason. "Quick. Easy. We take what they give us."

Mason nodded once. "Good."

Zac looked at Dylan. "Numbers."

Dylan’s eyes held his.

For a second, there was still anger there. Then Dylan gave one short nod.

The huddle broke.

Zac stepped under Mason and looked across the line.

The Jaguars were crouched low and hungry. Their right linebacker bounced on his toes, shoulders forward, eyes locked on Zac through the bars of his helmet. Their defensive end dragged one hand through the grass like he wanted to launch himself before the snap. Their whole front looked like they wanted the next hit even more than the first.

Fine.

Let them come.

The first answer came clear in Zac’s head.

Fast throw.

Short throw.

Make them chase the ball instead of chasing him.

"Blue eighty!"

Mason snapped the ball.

Zac caught it and stepped back.

Northview came for him right away.

The linebacker burst through the right side. Zac felt his own body react before fear could catch up. His fingers tightened around the ball, his shoulders turned, and his feet set fast.

He threw.

The ball left his hand before the hit arrived.

The tight end caught it near the sideline and ran until two Jaguars dragged him down from behind.

Six yards.

The Briarwick sideline yelled because it was the first clean gain they had gotten all night.

Helmets lifted. Players slapped each other’s pads. Coach Hayes swung one arm forward, telling them to move.

Across the field, the linebacker who had almost reached Zac spun around and slapped both hands against his thighs. His facemask snapped toward Zac like he was furious the ball had already gone.

Zac jogged to the line again.

They needed ten yards total to keep the ball.

They already had six.

Four more.

Mason crouched over the ball. "Same pressure."

"I see it."

Zac looked across the defense.

The Jaguars crowded the middle, waiting for him to run straight ahead or freeze under pressure. Dylan stood wide on the left side. The cornerback guarding him pressed close, feet planted, chest forward, ready to block him from going outside.

Zac pictured it before he called it.

Fake the run.

Pull the linebackers forward.

Throw behind them.

Trust Mason to hold for half a second.

Trust Dylan to get to the space.

He clapped once and called the play.

The ball snapped.

Zac held the ball out like he was giving it to the running back.

The Jaguars fell for it.

Their linebackers rushed forward, shoulders crashing toward the fake, trying to crush the play before it could breathe.

Zac pulled the ball back.

His ribs screamed with the twist, but the opening was there.

He stepped back and threw over them.

Dylan cut across the middle.

The ball hit him right in the chest.

Finally.

Dylan caught it and turned just in time to take the hit. A Jaguars defender slammed into his side hard enough to twist his upper body before both of them crashed down.

The whistle blew.

First down.

The Briarwick sideline jumped to life. Somebody screamed Dylan’s name. Mason shoved one fist into the air before dropping back toward the huddle. On the other side, the Jaguars linebacker turned in a tight circle, furious that he had stepped toward the fake.

Dylan pushed to one knee with the ball still locked to his chest. His head tilted down for a second like the hit had rattled him. Then he lifted the ball for the ref and forced himself up.

Zac felt something steady in his chest. He jogged past Dylan. "You alive?"

Dylan got up slower than usual, but his eyes were sharp. "Keep throwing it like that."

Zac almost smiled but there was no room for it yet.

They kept moving.

A short run.

A quick throw.

Another few yards.

Every play pushed Briarwick closer to the end zone. The Jaguars were still hitting hard, but now they were starting to chase. Zac could feel it. Their shoulders turned late. Their eyes shifted faster. Their hands went up after every missed tackle. The anger came out in jerky movements and sharp shouts across the line.

That was the difference.

Northview had attacked in the first quarter.

Now Briarwick was making them answer.

At the twenty four yard line, Zac saw the right side loosen.

The Jaguars expected another pass. Their defenders leaned toward Dylan. The corner guarding him kept glancing inside, waiting for the same cut. The linebacker shifted half a step away from the edge.

Open.

Zac felt it before he even called the snap.

Mason saw it too. Zac could tell by the quick tap of his fingers on the ball.

The plan formed in Zac’s head.

Trust Mason to hold the front.

The running back would sell the fake.

Dylan would pull the corner’s eyes.

Zac only had to take the space.

He called for the snap.

The ball came up.

Zac held it out like he was giving it to the running back.

Northview crashed toward the fake.

Zac pulled the ball back and ran.

The right side opened.

His cleats dug in hard as he cut outside. Cold air hit the sweat on his face. His ribs flared when he picked up speed, but the field had opened in front of him and he was keeping it.

A Jaguar defender reached for his hip and caught nothing.

The Briarwick crowd surged louder.

At the five, the safety came downhill with rage all over his face, shoulders lowered, arms wide. Zac tucked the ball tighter and dropped his own shoulder.

The hit cracked through him.

Pain shot across his side.

His legs almost buckled.

He drove one more step.

Then he crossed the line.

The whistle blew.

Touchdown.

The referee lifted both arms.

The Briarwick side exploded.

For one second, Zac could only stand there and drag air into his lungs. His legs felt hot and unsteady. His heartbeat thudded inside his helmet.

He found the cheer line for half a breath.Roxie was clapping hard, mouth open like she had shouted his name and regretted it too late.

Then Mason slammed into him from behind. The running back shoved both hands into his shoulder pads. The linemen came running in, yelling through their mouthguards. Dylan reached him last, still holding his side, and hit his helmet once with his own.

"Better," Dylan said.

Zac breathed hard. "Again."

Around them, the Jaguars stood in the end zone looking furious. One kicked at the turf. Another yanked at his gloves. Their safety turned away fast, like he could no longer stand looking at the scoreboard.

The kick after the touchdown was good.

Jaguars 10.

Ravens 7.

They were still behind, but close now.

The game felt alive again.

Zac ran back to the sideline.

Coach Hayes met him near the numbers. His face stayed serious, but his eyes had changed.

"That," Hayes said, "is what happens when you use the field."

Zac pulled his mouthguard loose. "They’re biting inside."

"Then make them pay until they stop."

Zac nodded.

He looked down the sideline.

Mason was already talking to the guard, showing him where the linebacker had come through. Dylan was bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard, but his eyes stayed on the Jaguars defense across the field. The running back slapped his own helmet twice and walked in a small circle like he was trying to calm his hands.

Zac felt something settle in his chest.

He had spent the first quarter feeling every eye on him.

Now he could see his team again.

Northview got the ball next.

Kyle ran onto defense with his jaw tight. He was still angry from getting beaten earlier. Zac could see it in the stiff line of his shoulders and the way he kept rolling his neck before the snap.

For two plays, Briarwick held them.

A short run.

A bad throw.

Now it was third down.

Northview still needed eight yards to keep the ball.

The crowd got loud.

Kyle lined up across from the slot receiver.

The Jaguars quarterback started calling for the snap.

Kyle leaned forward.

Too eager.

Zac saw it from the sideline.

Wait.

Kyle jumped.

The ball had not moved yet.

A yellow flag flew.

The whistle cut through the noise.