Free Secrets: The Hero Chronicles (Volume 1) by Tim Mettey

around for just thirty seconds, but when I turned back toward the stands, she was gone. I searched the entire stands frantically for her, but I didn’t find her. Was she a dream or an illusion? Was she just something else that I couldn’t explain?
    I then spotted Cora off to the side of the home bleachers, but she was not by herself. She was talking to a well-dressed older couple, and whatever they were discussing looked serious. Cora never talked to anyone out in public for any length of time.
    The horn sounded to signal the end of the game, and both teams walked across the field to shake hands. A couple of the opposing coaches told me how well I played, but my thoughts were consumed by the mystery girl.
    I followed the team to the locker room. Coach Miller was upset. He was yelling before we all were seated. All I could make out was, “Offensively we were pathetic. We barely won the game 17 to 7. If it weren’t for the defense scoring twice, we would have lost.”
    I waited a couple more minutes to see if he said anything to me. I slipped out of the locker room to go get changed. This time no one looked at me. I got my equipment off, put my clothes on, and sat on a bench with my face in my hands to relax for a minute. My head was spinning. So much had happened in such a short period of time: Oliver not being able to hit me, Cora’s heated discussion. But the thing that I couldn’t get out of my head was the girl in the stands, my angel. I only saw her face for a couple of seconds, but I knew every detail of it like I had known her all my life. Who was she?
    “Keller.”
    Startled, I jumped up and swung around ready for a fight.
    “Relax, son.” Coach Miller was right behind me.
    “I’m sorry, Coach, for slipping out during your talk.”
    “No problem, son. Sit down.”
    I turned around and sat back down on the bench facing him.
    “Keller, you had a great game. I’m proud of you. Most players could not have done what you did today. You handled the pressure with such ease. Come to think of it, most people could not handle that kind of pressure. I know you don’t know our defense yet, but you will. Keep it up!”

PARTY
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    A couple minutes after Coach Miller walked out, the JV team came in. The mood was solemn; no one was talking. They looked like someone had died. Eric saw me and his solemn expression changed to a big smile.
    “So, Eric, how was the scrimmage?” I asked him first before he could quiz me about the game. I was expecting to hear they lost.
    “We tied, can you believe it? We tied. Why keep score if tying is a possibility? You should have seen Coach Hoff. He acted like a mad man—it was classic. He stormed across the field yelling at Moeller’s coaches, demanding overtime. Three of our assistant coaches had to pull him back to our side and get him on the bus. Coach was still yelling from the window of the bus as we pulled away. ‘Someone has to win,’ he yelled. ‘That’s why you keep score. I don’t care if it was just a scrimmage. Ever heard of overtime, you twits?’”
    “Then why is everyone looking so upset?” I asked.
    “Well, Coach Hoff wasn’t done. He yelled at us the whole way home.”
    “Why was he so upset with you? You guys weren’t the reason it ended that way.”
    “Coach Hoff said that we should have never been tied with such an inferior team in the first place. We should have killed them. So I’m wearing my track shoes to our next practice because I’m expecting a lot of running.” Eric’s smile returned to his face. “So did you dominate today or what?”
    “We won 17-7.”
    “Did you play?”
    “I played for three quarters.”
    “No way! You’re the man!” Eric, wearing just his game pants, jumped up on the bench and yelled, “Keller played three quarters today with varsity and kicked some serious butt.”
    He was pumping his arms up and down. The atmosphere in the locker room changed instantly. Everyone started yelling and carrying on