The horn rings and I turn my head towards home bench. Coach is replacing Manfred.

Thank God. I sigh in relief.

I've tried with everything I have to encourage him, but he's faltering, he's demoralized. We can't catch up with the Jackals if he stays. The pricks have struck a chord, challenging him with their comments—they have done so with all of the Excelsiors since the start of the match—but Manfred has let their words affect him more than the others, especially because he feels Markus would be disappointed with his poor results.

I look at Thomas D'Angelo, right in front of me, and see amazement pass in his dark eyes just as the voice coming from the speakers announces the name of the sub ready to enter the game.

"Jules Beaufort."

Silence falls over the whole stadium, a hushed awe akin to the witnessing of first snow, as people watch gaping the number eleven of the Excelsiors walk to the middle of the field.

The school board of the Montrose Institute and the local committee were informed of the peculiar line-up of the Excelsiors as soon as Jules joined our team; Coach had to battle with those old goats, but in the end he had his way. No one else, though, knew that a girl would be playing with the Excelsiors, until now. We didn't publicize it to obtain... this.

The shocked expressions on the faces of the Jackals tell me it worked just fine. I hoped we wouldn't come to it so soon in the season, but Coach is right—we need her now.

Jules twists her racquet and nods to me. I can see she's nervous, but she'll be fine once we start playing—I know she will.

"Ehi, Montrose, do you let in kids too? My little brother is a tough cookie," D'Angelo mocks me. I simply stare him down with a grin on my face in reply.

The other Jackals are casting teasing looks towards Jules, but she's clearly pretending not to see them.

"Ready?" I ask her.

"Always." Her fingers twitch as she wraps them around the racquet, though her voice is unwavering.

"Look out for the bigger ones, they won't go easy on you. Ok?"

Jules nods.

"And don't let them provoke you," I add with concern. She's got quite a temper and God knows what she might do; I fear some dramatic reaction opposite to Manfred's withdrawal—Jules would fight them head on.

The buzzer goes off and the game resumes before she can answer.

Ben takes the face-off, winning the ball against a Jackal midfielder. Our opponents rush forward to find their marks and places on the court—luckily, Jules gets a slender boy who doesn't look dangerous, not as the Mountain anyways.

Things are pretty messy: Ben and Dante make good passes as often as they can, but Jules and I have our marks tailing us and we're slowly forced away from the goal of the Jackals. They're not underestimating our new teammate as I hoped, on the contrary they're more pushy than before, and the situation is not getting better.

I raise my chin to look at sky, and wish it'd rain so the game could stop.

We file back to home bench when the two referees signal the start of the ten minutes halftime break. The score is still in the Jackals' favor with five points against two.

"Perhaps I fooled myself all along," says Coach. "I didn't realize you were a bunch of deaf kids."

"What?"

I cast a warning glance to Ben, the only one reckless enough to play with Coach in a moment like this.

"I-am-sorry-stone-deaf-wimp," the man mouths slowly to him.

"I can hear you just fine!" Ben snaps.

"Then why are you ignoring me? I told you to win this stupid game!" yells Coach, raking us all with his furious gaze. "You are the best team of this state and I will not lull you like children—go out there and score! Crawl, jump, fly if you must, just find a way to do it."

The stunned silence of the team makes him even angrier and Coach leaves us to buy himself a hot dog.

"We breach that defense line, now, no more walking on eggs."

I turn to meet Jules' determined expression. "Of course, we do."

The third period begins.

I ground my feet into the grass of the field and as soon as the ball is into play I spring forward without sparing my energies. Jules runs before me, with the same single-mindedness. She's fast and receives a pass meant for a Jackal from his teammate, but other two of them are blocking her way. Jules flicks the ball backward over her shoulder to me and practically rolls over the court to avoid being crashed between the two Jackals; she ends her somersault and gets back on her legs in a fluid motion, getting past the defense and into the attack area. The opponents are rapidly closing in on me, so I make an accurate and powerful throw, handing the ball back to Jules. She scoops it easily from the air and charges towards the goalkeeper. Then D'Angelo pops out of nowhere and closes her off, holding her racquet with his own and preventing her from playing the ball.

I see them struggle for a few seconds, Jules refusing to give in, and the captain of the Jackals addressing her some nasty remark before getting possession of the ball and clearing it.

"Please," I say to her when she's near enough to hear me, "don't let him get to you."

Jules scoffs and speeds up along the court.

The action has moved in our half of the court now and our goalie, Lysander, reorganizes the defense with short and clear indications. Balthazar and the others put up a fight but the Jackals press forward nonetheless. In the end, their number four takes a shot, but Lysander makes an incredible save slamming the ball with the flat head of his racquet and sends it flying towards the opposite half of the court.

I spot D'Angelo running for it and Jules chasing him down; she has the guts to try a body-check on him when he gets the ball but the guy is too big for her, and he deliberately slackens off, showing off with a dodge. She looks taken aback by the move despite its mocking slowness, but when he runs past her laughing out loud she swings her racquet with amazing swiftness and hits his crosse with a back-tip, making the ball pop out of the net.

I don't waste any precious seconds to admire her boldness and presence of mind, and follow the trajectory of the ball. Now that I got it I won't stop. I dodge rival after rival, protecting the ball between the racquet and my body each time; when I'm finally nearing the crease I got three marks on me, so I decide to try a pass in the space between the heads of two of them. Jules is similarly engulfed in the Jackals' line-up, but she manages to scoop the ball, swiping her racquet at the head of her mark to make him move back as soon as a body-check is allowed, then she launches herself forward. She's a few steps from the crease, when the Mountain appears in front of her with a wicked grin.

Jules is like an actress completely oblivious to cameras and playing the role she's born for. She ignores the crowd and the nagging comments of the Jackals and focuses only on one thing—the goal.

She doesn't slow down and prepares herself for the impact with the giant boy, but at the last second she flicks the ball in my direction without even looking to make sure I'm there. I recover from the surprise barely in time to receive the pass, and then I use all the strengths I've left to shoot.

Time seems to slow down as the ball rolls into the goal, spinning in the air, and I turn towards Jules and D'Angelo, oblivious to the outcome of my shot. I can see the black eyes of the Mountain widen in shock—when the ball is within three yards of the guy Jules literally runs over him, her momentum sending both of them forward, and she body-checks him into the goalkeeper.

The ball enters.

Goal.

The whistle of the referee mingles with the jubilant screams of the Excelsiors and I can't help myself from joining them.

Ben comes running and scoops Jules into his arms.

"Ben, stop! You're making me dizzy," she laughs out.

"The Jackals are going to be dizzy." Then he turns to the rest of the team and yells, "Make them sorry they showed up tonight!"

۝

It's over.

We line up at half-court and shake hands with our rivals.

I still can't believe it, I can't believe it ended this way.

After my sensational provocation the Jackals became more inflamed and vicious, they sought out every chance to get a payback on me. They thought I was no stronger than my sex—and I proved them wrong.

We won.

It wasn't easy, and in the end we only surpassed them by one point, but it's enough to take a sigh of relief.

The boys are excited like I've never seen them before and they practically gambol towards the changing rooms.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Rogan asks me before we part.

I nod wearily and follow him in a quiet corner.

"That was very reckless and stupid," he starts.

"I know, Rogan..."

"And it was amazing—you are amazing." Then he pushes me back against the wall and kisses me.

I'm paralyzed, and I don't know if it's because of the unexpectedness of the gesture, or because I feel inebriated by the salty taste of Rogan's lips and by the tingling sensation spreading all through my body. I don't even remember wrapping my arms around his neck, awkwardly trying to pull him closer with our paddings and armors in the way.

He breathes a laugh onto my mouth and whispers, "You have witchcraft in your lips. I knew as much since I first saw you in that swan costume."

I must look aghast, for he smiles knowingly and chucks me under the chin.

"I recognized you when you showed up at the tryouts—and I'm pretty sure you too knew who I was."

I swallow down my growing panic and stare him in his bright silver eyes without a word.

"Don't worry, I don't blame you for pretending otherwise—nor for joining a Caldwell party. I was also there, after all." Then he strokes my sweaty hairline, fondling with the messy curls behind my ear. "I'm glad I met you, Jules Beaufort."

And he kisses me again.