The referee blew the whistle once and pointed to midfield.
Goal.
Then he blew it again to signal that regulation play was over.
Tabitha leapt like the Sugarplum Fairy as her teammates hugged and shouted in elation and relief. Lily could breathe again.
The game was tied.
The Bombers were still alive.
chapter 21
Overtime,
“One second, ref.” Chris ran over to him.
Then LJ’s coach handed over a small card. The referee inspected both sides, nodded and handed it back.
“What was that?” she asked as Chris came back to the bench.
“A player card,” he answered. “Needed to let him know I was checking in a new player.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
“LJ, I suspended you for two games.”
“Right ...”
“Well, technically, the second game just ended.”
Chris smiled.
“I’m back on the team?” she asked. “I can play?”
“Technically, you’ve never left the team,” he told her. “I can sub you in at any time. That is, if it’s okay with your parents.”
Lily sprinted toward her mother and father. “Coach says I can play if it’s okay with you. Can I?”
Her mother was holding her bag. She reached inside and pulled out a neatly folded blue uniform, shin guards and Lily’s cleats.
“I thought you’d want them here,” her mother said, smiling. “You know, for moral support.”
“Coaches, two minutes to kickoff!” the referee boomed. “You know the rules: Ten minutes of golden goal. First team to score wins. Girls, keep it clean and good luck.”
“Ready, LJ?” Chris asked when she was back on the sideline.
Was he kidding?
Lily sprinted to center field. Vee and Tabitha beamed as they took their positions on the front line. Their uniforms were battle-marked with dirt and grass and their faces smudged with mud. The number seven of Lily’s clean shirt felt cold and crisp on her back. Her legs were fresh and her mind clear. Maybe clearer than it had ever been. Here comes the cavalry, she thought. Lily caught her coach’s eye and got a thumbs-up in return.
The James family stood huddled together close to the bench while the Nuts and Berries worked the sidelines with the nervous solidarity of shared gray hairs, bitten nails and sore vocal cords. LJ warmed inside when she noticed the intense way Mr. Gordon studied his daughter. His BlackBerry was finally holstered.
At the flick of an elbow, attention narrowed as the referee raised the shiny whistle to his mouth. Lily savored the silence and space before he exhaled. She drank up the expectation and anticipation of all the girls on the field. She looked at Molly Barrelton and the rest of the Castle Creek squad. Champions would be crowned in the next ten minutes, but champions already stood on both sides of this field, she realized.
The whistle blew and Castle Creek kicked off. Lily wasn’t in a hurry. She took a minute to get into the flow of the game. After ninety minutes of regulation, players on both sides were tired. Yet there was a rhythm to the way each side was moving, and Lily wanted to pace herself until exactly the right moment. A flash of a white shirt caught her eye, but Lily looked away. Nothing on the sidelines was going to distract her today.
She got her first touch on the ball from a pass from Sue. Lily quickly found an open teammate. Keep the ball moving. Chris’s plan was simple: let the ball do the work. Everyone is exhausted, he’d told them, so make good crisp passes and keep control. There was a time, Lily knew, when she’d have just taken the ball and run with it. There was a time not too long ago when she was convinced she didn’t need anyone else to win. She thought she could do it all. She got another pass, this time from Tabitha. She two-touched it to Amelia down the line.
“That’s it, ladies, work together!” she heard Chris yell.
The Castle Creek defense broke up the next pass and sent a long frantic blooper down the line. The right-winger chased it down, but Lily could see she had nothing left in her legs. Patience, she thought, patience. She covered the field like a tiger stalking prey.
Lily relished the pounding of her cleats on the grass and her heart in her chest. She felt alive again. The Bombers were still on a high from Tabitha’s goal, but Castle Creek were the defending champions, and they were determined to hold on to the title. Lily and her teammates couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, and they had to capitalize on any and every opportunity.
Molly Barrelton made a run through the offense that caught the tired Bomber defense off guard. Lily was the only one on the team able to give chase. She tracked Molly all the way to the end line and managed to force a goal kick by deflecting the ball out of bounds off Molly’s foot.
“Way to get back on defense, LJ!” she heard Chris yell from the sidelines.
Beth launched the ball toward midfield as Lily moved back into the offense. Vee passed it back to Lily. She moved forward a few yards, then found Reese on the left. She mishandled the trap and lost the ball out of bounds.
“That’s okay, Reese!” Lily called. “Next time.”
Reese lifted her head and got back in the game. Castle Creek took the throw-in and passed it among the backfield, from one defender to the next. Lily watched as Vee found a burst of energy and put pressure on the outside back, trying to force a mistake. Lily crept forward, looking for an opportunity. She waited and watched as Vee cornered the defender.
The girl began to panic and run back toward her own goal, looking to pass it back to the goalie. Vee stayed on her, herding her deeper into her own territory. Then Tabitha joined the chase. The girl tried to just get rid of the ball by kicking it out of bounds, but it ricocheted off Vee’s foot and bounced behind her.
It was the chance Lily was waiting for. Tabitha swooped in and controlled the ball. She passed to Lily, who was open at the top of the box. She looked to pass.
“Go!” Vee cried. “Go to goal!”
Lily looked up. The left fullback was approaching quickly, but if she could beat her, she would be one-on-one with the goalie. With one successful move, she would be home free. Again, time seemed to slow. Lily moved ahead, dribbling with her left foot only. She went straight at the defender. The girl moved forward to tackle, but Lily pushed the ball past her with her left foot and, at the last second, moved her body to the right. The ball shot forward and Lily glided past without any contact.
She exploded onward, pushing her legs to the limit and bringing the ball back under control. She’d done it. It was just Lily, the ball and the goalie. Lily’s gait felt light and fast as she burst forward. The goalie came off her line. The din of the crowd grew. Lily slowed down a touch—she was just fifteen yards out. She looked for a shot, but the goalie cut off the angle.
Lily moved closer. The goalie closed in. It was now or never.
The keeper’s shirt was a blur of attacking red. She lunged for the ball. Suddenly a voice called out, “I’m here, LJ!”
Lily took one more touch and then, without even looking up, touched a blind pass out to her right.
The goalie tried to redirect her body to follow the ball, but the pass had caught her off guard. She had been sure Lily would shoot.
The ball rolled gently across the pitch.
Where it met the blur of blue and yellow.
Vee the Bee, of course. Right on schedule.
She approached Lily’s pass quickly and confidently but didn’t take any chances. Vee dribbled the ball calmly over the white goal line and slammed the game winner into the back of the net.
“Yes!” Lily cried as the whistle blew.
She jumped high into the air.
A sea of crazed teammates arrived and dragged her down into a pile of celebration. Tears, cheers and screams filled her ears as Lily searched for Vee. She found her friend and hugged her tight. Tabitha grabbed them both with a yell as parents and coaches hovered near.
Even Mr. Gordon was applauding.
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One by one, each Bomber joined the embrace until they formed a tight circle of smiles. Lily studied every sweaty tired grin. Her friends. Her team.
This was her place in the world. She knew.
Ackowledgments
Lily James is a fictional character, but I must thank my very real and amazing daughter, Lily Jebejian, for the use of her first name and of course for the joy she brings me every day. Also, I again thank the boys of my house, Diron and William Jebejian, the silliest and best crew around. Your love, patience and support are everything.
Special acknowledgment to the many Montalbanos who helped from start to finish: My wonderful mother, Kay, for sharing her love of books and reading and for sticking me on a soccer field as a little girl. My big brother, Dennis, for being my best coach in so many ways. His life, soccer and writing expertise were invaluable. My sister, Teya, for patiently reading every page, often as soon as it was written. Rosanna for checking the Spanish and Italian (any mistakes are my own), and Greg for the website. I am also grateful to Vincent, Patricia, Kelly Berryman, Thomas, Benjamin, Dan, Tiva and Marian Smith for all their endless support and to, of course, the many cheering Jebejians and Kasparians.
Breakaway would never have happened without the amazing Esther Newberg, a one-of-a-kind agent and friend. A special acknowledgment goes to my editor, Philomel’s Michael Green, for making every part of the book better. I am eternally grateful for his guidance and for giving me a shot. Thanks also to Philomel’s Tamra Tuller and ICM’s Kari Stuart for all their hard work and the million things they do that I never even know about.
Thanks to the dedicated soccer coaches of my life: Chris Moore, Ralph Foster, Joe Massi, Roland Gomez, and Bob Scalise. But in particular, I would like to offer special thanks to Harvard’s Tim Wheaton for his knowledge, help and, most important, his friendship. Countless teammates, friends and colleagues encouraged me to write and I am indebted to Carl Hiaasen, Tom Touchet, Meaghan Rady, Elena Patterson, Stacey Vollman Warwick, and Jackie Gross Kellogg. I am grateful to Joanne Jones and Erin Krestinski for the early reads and priceless hours of peace and quiet. A special acknowledgment to Verenice Merino, my Vee, for her steadfast patience and love. Thank you, Nana.
Finally, this book is in many ways a tribute to my late father, William D. Montalbano. Words are not enough, Dad, but thank you.
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