“Older?” Miranda thought of the power and energy the quarterback radiated. “He can’t be all that old.”

“He’s in his midthirties. That’s old by football standards. He’s coming to the end of his career.”

“He sure doesn’t look like it,” she said as Luke threw the ball like a bullet to a receiver on the fifteen-yard line for a first down.

“Yeah, he’s still got an arm.”

On the next play, disaster struck. Once again the quarterback dropped back into what Dennis called the pocket, the football in his hand. Luke looked like an island of calm in the midst of a swirl of colliding bodies as he scanned the field for his intended target. He cocked his arm back and sent the ball riffling toward one of his teammates. An opponent blasted into the air as the ball was midflight and came down with it in his hands.

A collective groan went up from the stadium as the opposing player began to zig and zag in the other direction, gaining several yards before he was buried under a pile of Empire players.

Miranda looked back at Luke to see him standing with his hands on his hips, his posture expressing pure frustration. It was a fleeting moment, because he turned and walked off the field without any further reaction.

“That’s the second time he’s thrown an interception in the last five minutes of a game. He never makes that kind of misjudgment.” Dennis sounded upset. “Please tell me he doesn’t have a shoulder injury.”

When the Cardinals’ offense took the field, they all sat down and leaned forward on the edges of their seats, hissing in distress every time the opposing quarterback connected with his receiver for a first down, and cheering when the Empire’s defense stopped their advance.

Then the Empire got a major break when the Cardinals fumbled the ball and an Empire defender recovered it.

Luke Archer jogged back on the field. The giant screen at the end of the stadium showed a close-up of his eyes in the helmet’s opening. They burned with ice-cold intensity. “He’s going to win this,” Miranda said.

Dennis gave her a smile. “Turned into a football expert, have you, sis?”

“You could see it in his eyes,” she said. “Want to make a bet on the outcome?”

“No way! I would never bet against my team. Or Luke Archer.”

A dropped pass and two running plays advanced the Empire to the forty-five-yard line with a fourth down and two.

“Kick the field goal,” Dennis muttered under his breath.

“No, Dad, it’s too far. Archer’s going to put them away with a touchdown,” Theo said.

“I don’t think so, Theo.” Dennis was so engrossed in the game that he didn’t even glance at his son. “That’s too risky.”

All of a sudden the players stood up, and Luke trotted toward the sideline. “Time out, Empire,” the announcer called.

Miranda could see Luke’s helmet tilted at an attentive angle as the coach held his clipboard in front of his face to hide whatever they were discussing. The helmet bobbed a couple of times as Luke said something emphatic in response. The dialogue went back and forth a couple of times, and then Luke nodded and headed back onto the field.

“They’re not gonna kick it,” Theo crowed.

Dennis dropped his head into his hands briefly before he lifted his eyes to watch again.

So not kicking must be a bad idea. Miranda held her breath as Luke got into position behind his offensive line and shouted whatever it was that quarterbacks shouted at their teammates. A couple of players moved to different locations, and the ball was snapped.

Luke dropped back into the pocket with the ball still in his possession.

“He’s going to throw!” Dennis sounded incredulous. “Who’s open?”

Miranda tensed as a mountainous Cardinals player shook off two Empire linemen and charged toward the quarterback. “Oh, no, I can’t watch,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“Brooks is open!” Dennis was screaming. “He’s throwing to Chaz Brooks.”

Miranda peeked through one eye just as Luke drilled the ball down the field right into the hands of number twenty-five.

“He has it! And he’s got a clear field!” Her brother was on his feet.

Miranda stood, too, watching as the blue-shirted ballcarrier extricated himself from the grip of another gigantic Cardinals defender and took off toward the goal line.

“He’s gonna score!” Theo squeaked with excitement. “Touchdown!” He threw his arms up and smacked Miranda in the face with his foam finger, but she didn’t care.

She was screaming along with the rest of the Empire fans as Chaz Brooks did a dance in the end zone.

“Oh, no, Archer is down.” Patty’s voice cut through the celebratory racket.

Miranda scanned the field to find a ring of players and trainers standing around a fallen player. She checked the big screen to see a close-up view of the top of Luke’s helmet resting on the turf behind a wall of cleats and ankles.

“Is he conscious?” she asked, concern extinguishing the thrill of victory.

“I can’t tell,” Patty said. “Oh, yeah, there. He moved his foot.”

Suddenly, one of the standing players bent down and offered his hand to the quarterback. The player straightened and brought Luke to his feet.

Cheers and applause filled the stadium again as the clot of players followed Luke off the field.

“Is he limping?” Miranda asked, trying to distinguish Luke from the crowd of blue jerseys surrounding him.