The crowd (though in truth, it was only about thirty people) cheered as the two teams raced back and forth across the field, the worn leather soccer ball flying furiously between them. Occasionally, someone from the other team would manage to steal it back, or a shot would go bad and the goalie would toss to her own team. Either way, the score had been an even 1-1 for the past several minutes, and it didn’t look like it was about to change anytime soon.

Lizzy, however, knew better.

Lizzy was currently warming the bench, resting after the first half. Her hair was in its usual long pigtails, which – regardless of what others might say about her – was her personal favorite hairstyle. Her shirt was still wet from the sweat she’d worked up, but her eyes showed no signs of fatigue; this match was for the district championship: Hornets vs. Sparrows! The winners would move on to the State Tournament, and her team was on fire this game! Of course, the other girls were clearly just as eager to move on, hence the deadlock between their scores. But Lizzy could tell they were tiring out. Soon, they’d make a mistake that would leave them all open. She just hoped her fellow Hornets could capitalize when the opportunity presented itself.

Five minutes. The other team had managed to make a few good shots, but Rachel – the goalie for the Hornets and one of Lizzy’s best friends – was completely on point, blocking or catching every single one of them. The Sparrows were relentless, though, and their goalie was just as focused as Rachel. The deadlock continued. Four minutes.

Unfortunately, as is often the case in a tense situation, someone went too far. In this case, it was a girl named Kelsey, a younger member of the team. She slid hard, attempting to knock the ball away from the Sparrows, but something went wrong. Lizzy never saw exactly what happened, but the next thing anybody knew, the Sparrow girl was doing a face-plant and Kelsey was screaming as she clutched her leg. The Hornets’ coach – Lizzy’s father – rushed out to the field. He later returned with Kelsey’s arm draped over his shoulder as he led her carefully off the field. She put as little weight as possible on her injured leg, which was now turning a very unhealthy shade of purple.

“Liz,” he said as he passed, “take the field.” Lizzy nodded and raced out, the cheers of her teammates and the crowd behind her. The game resumed, and she dove headlong into it. Soon, there were only three minutes remaining. She managed to swipe the ball and avoid an attempted steal by the other team, but when Lizzy attempted to pass, one of the Sparrows was able to intercept it. Lizzy skidded to a halt and raced after the other girl, managing to catch up just as she was about to attempt to score. A well-timed kick saw the ball sail away in the wrong direction, and the Hornets recovered. Two minutes.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, both sides cheering as loudly as they could. Lizzy’s father was back now, screaming until his face turned purple – though whether he was yelling encouragement or instruction, Lizzy couldn’t hear. She’d gone into her “zone”, and all she saw was the field before her. She knew where every player was, which way the ball was going, and where she had to go to meet it. A poor kick by one of her teammates cost them some distance, but now Lizzy had the ball, and she was going for the goal. One minute.

Halfway down the field, she passed quickly, frustrating her opponent’s efforts to steal the ball back. Her teammates continued to pass, moving the ball in a rapid-fire zigzag down the field. Finally, the ball came toward her, and with everything she could muster, she leapt into the air and sent the ball screaming to the opponent’s goal. Time seemed to slow down. Their goalie rushed, but she wasn’t going to make it. The ball continued to travel, going further and further, and as Lizzy fell back onto the ground, she was just able to see it fly past the goalie’s hands…

…and right into the bars around the goal itself, bouncing off just as the timer sounded. Cheers and groans erupted from opposite sides of the crowd, and the two teams jogged back to their benches, preparing for overtime. Lizzy took a bit longer than the rest, remaining on the ground for a moment as the unscored ball rolled gently toward her. She looked at it and sighed, blowing at her bangs with a disappointed huff. Finally, she picked herself up and headed back to the bench, her teammates going past her. A few offered a friendly “Good shot” or “Nice try” as they passed, but Lizzy ignored them. Her father motioned toward the bench with his head, and she sullenly sat down. He sat down next to her.

“Mad at your miss?” he asked. She didn’t respond. He knew the answer. “Well, don’t be. It was a good shot, and you had good form. We’ll practice it, and next time, you’ll get it for sure.” He paused to call out a few instructions to the girls on the field, then resumed. “Besides, it’s overtime now. We can still win this.” Lizzy nodded, but she didn’t seem to feel better. Her father nudged her in the side. “Hey. I mean it. You were great out there. Remember what I said? ‘The only game you lose…’”

“’Is the one you never play,’” she finished. “I know.” Her tone was flat, but a small smile had crept onto her face. “Thanks, Dad.” He smiled at her, patted her on the shoulder, then stood and resumed shouting instructions. Lizzy sat back, a bit more relaxed now, and began her after-game ritual of reviewing what she’d done. Much as a coach shows his players videos of previous games, Lizzy liked to review her own video of her latest performance, criticizing what she messed up on and taking note of what she did well.

Suddenly, a cold shiver raced up her spine, like an icy finger sliding slowly toward her shoulders. She turned around, but there was no one nearby. Puzzled, she turned back to the field and dismissed it as fatigue. She was just in time, too: her teammates were driving through the Sparrows, and she was quickly on her feet cheering them.