Free Betting Game by Heather M. O'Connor

home.
    Alex is on the couch. “Game’s about to start. Are you watching it, Jack?”
    The pregame show is on. It flashes the lineups. The hosts make their predictions. How will it end?
    “Jack?” Alex waits on my answer. “You watching?”
    Am I?
    “Jack, is everything all right?”
    I squirm inside. For a minute, I feel like spilling the whole dirty mess. But what can he do? I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath. By the end of the game, it’ll all be over. One way or the other.
    “Jack?”
    I shake my head and go to my room.
    I’m afraid to watch. But I’m more afraid not to. I follow it on my phone, hunched over the screen. I grip the phone so tightly that my hands ache.
    Everything hangs on the next ninety minutes.
    I hold my breath and make a wish. Win it. Win it. I’ll never bet again if you score right now.
    The minutes crawl on. My phone gets slippery with sweat.
    Then Alex cheers.
    Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Offside—no goal.
    And then it’s all over.
    The phone rings in my hands seconds later. I check the display—Luka. I switch it to silent and shove it under my pillow.
    But I pull it right back out. What’s the balance?
    I fall back on my bed and put my phone on my chest. It feels like someone has parked a car on me.
    Can I really owe $8,180? I throw the phone against the wall and start gulping for air.
    I can’t fix this. Not now. Not ever.
    There’s no way out.

Chapter Twenty-Six
    The next day, my stomach is still in knots.
    The semifinal is two days away, and we’re hosting it. Coach pushes us extra hard our last practice. The pressure’s on. Everyone from the players to management wants us to win it at home.
    I restock the treatment-room cabinets and help out in the boot room. Coach is always asking for help with the young teams. I fill the gaps with extra workouts and game films. The harder I work, the less I think.
    Alex finds me on the elliptical around six.
    “Heading out soon?”
    I shake my head. “Tell Mom I’ll be home late.”
    As late as possible. Partly because I can’t face another night of staring at the ceiling. Partly because I’m avoiding Luka. At least until I figure out how to pay him.
    Luka’s not avoiding me. His car prowls through the parking lot. He’s been calling and texting all day.
    He texts again when I’m leaving the training center.
    pay up, jack attack
    I hesitate, then turn off the phone. I’ll call him tomorrow.
    I jog through the darkness, following watery circles of light across the park.
    Going around a bend, I almost run into someone. I skid to a stop.
    “Sorry, I—”
    “Jack Attack.”
    His voice knifes through me. I want to bolt, but my feet won’t listen.
    The gravel crunches under his feet as he steps closer.
    “Where have you been?”
    I flinch and back away. Right into two big guys.
    Luka’s eyes gleam in the dim light. “I text. I call. What, we’re not friends anymore?”
    I hear the truth. We never were.
    “I—I tried to—”
    He snaps his fingers. His friends hoist me by my arms and drag me off the path. Can’t—fight free. I’ve watched enough police shows to know what comes next. My heart bangs in my chest.
    “Let me g—unh!”
    Pain flashes, red on black. Can’t breathe. I dangle by my arms, limp and gasping.
    Another sucker punch. Another bright burst of pain.
    And another. Need—air!
    Have to get—away. I try to wrench free and groan.
    “Luka, I’ll pay—” Cold metal against my head. A gun? I shudder and jerk away.
    “Yes. You will.”
    Click.
    “Please. Don’t!” I squeeze my eyes shut.
    Long seconds pass.
    “There’s another way.” He brings his face close to mine. “A way no one ends up dead.”
    I gulp. “Not dead…is good. How?”
    “You work for me.” His words brush my face. “Starting Saturday at your semifinal.”
    “I’ll be on the field.”
    “Exactly. I tell you the spread. You make it happen.”
    “You mean…cheat?”
    “Control the score.”
    “If I do