Terrence, leading the entire football team, pulls up short before steamrolling over Danny and me. As the rest of the team arrives, they surround us, closing in, the white steam from all their panting filling the cold night air. I feel Danny’s foot set in the turf next to mine. He’s covering my blind side.

“Refs said we got three minutes to get on the field or we forfeit the game,” Terrence explains. “We didn’t work our asses off all season so we can quit the last home game and risk not clinching the top play-off slot. So let’s go. Now.”

“Yeah!” Rondo woofs.

“Let’s go!” Pullman shouts.

“Game ain’t over, Brodsky. Come on!” DuWayne grunts.

“Buh-buh-but . . .” I start, then Terrence cuts me off.

“Kurt, those three have been pricks since our Pony League days,” Terrence says. “If even half of what we heard is true—and I don’t doubt for a second it is—they don’t deserve to wear this uniform. If they go after you, they go after all of us. If you can’t trust your teammates no more, if they don’t got your back, you ain’t a team.”

“Yeah,” I hear Danny whisper beside me.

“Clock’s ticking, guys,” Warner says. “Down to two minutes to get a team on that field. Kurt, we need you to bring it home.”

“We’re asking nicely,” Rondo says. “Now, come on!”

“They’re right,” Danny says quietly to me. “Finish the game.” I glance down at him, see he’s serious. I heft my helmet up over my head, then pull it down and lock the chin strap in place.

“Good man!”

“Knew you’d come through!”

Terrence raises his own helmet to the night sky like a torch. “Who are we?” he asks.

“Knights!” my teammates answer back.

“Who do we fear?” Terrence asks us.

“No one!” we answer.

“Whose house is this?” Terrence shouts the question.

“Our house!” we tell him.

“What’s our name?” Terrence asks.

“KNIGHTS!” we answer back.