The Last Match

Jess had imagined this moment a thousand times: the final minute, the ball at her feet, the whole school watching. In her imagination, she always scored.

Now the moment had arrived, and her legs felt as if they belonged to someone else.

The score was 1–1. Beyond the goalkeeper, the net seemed to shrink to the size of a shoebox. Somewhere behind her, Mr Okafor’s voice cut through the noise: “Pass, Jess! Priya’s free!”

She glanced left. Priya was unmarked, arms waving, with a clear view of goal. But this was Jess’s chance – the one she had been waiting for all season. Nobody remembered the person who passed.

Jess drew back her foot.

At the last second, something made her hesitate. She thought of all the mornings Priya had stayed late to help her practise, never once complaining. She thought of what a team was supposed to be.

She slid the ball sideways.

Priya didn’t even need to break her stride. The ball flew into the top corner, and the crowd erupted.

Later, as the team lifted the trophy, Priya pulled Jess into the middle of the photograph. “That goal was yours as much as mine,” she said.

Jess found, to her surprise, that she believed it.

Jeopardy!