Combustion

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Boom.

Corey Purchase watches the football leave Pete Roland’s boot. He’s marked a thousand kicks from this guy over the years, but their speed always surprises him. Without exception the ball arrives earlier than Corey expects, even when he expects it to arrive early.

Bloody hell, it’s quick.

The football spirals through the night sky like a laser-guided missile and again Corey is surprised. It’s not only super fast but super accurate. The fifteen-year-old reaches out, extends his hands—

Bam. It lands right on his fingertips.

Whoa! Corey missteps and the football slides out of his grasp, hits the grass, bounces up. He drags it back to his chest and clamps it there.

What the hell was that?

It felt like the ground moved under him. He ignores it and swings towards the goalposts. He needs to come up with something and he needs to do it fast. There’s fifteen seconds left on the clock, if that. Only a goal and six points will win this game.

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