Amy willingly handed control of the energy over to Higgy and trusted him to do the rest while she watched for potential problems. The first backwash of released energy confirmed her hopes. Not only was Higgy … wait …

Daniel, she reminded herself.

Not only was Daniel getting his team to cooperate, her plan was working. One by one, he was cleaning out the potion from each person. Amy wasn’t sure if it was the nature of the remote spell or a lingering boost from the kiss, but she wasn’t getting as tired as usual.

Just when Higgy had wrapping things up and was attempting a stronger connection …

GRNNNNNNNNNN!

The end of half-time buzzer blared through the loudspeakers.

Amy was brutally ripped back into reality, leaving her dazed for several seconds.

ow ow ow ow ow

After Amy shook off the ache of the uncontrolled release of magic, she was surprised at her current condition. Her mind was clear and pain-free. No stiffness in her back or arms, no ill effects to speak of. The talismans were now little more than dust, though. They had likely absorbed the shock of the spell shattering. A bitter tingling in her mouth confirmed the potion sample had broken down into its original components.

Bleh. It tasted even worse than before. Hopefully that wasn’t a bad sign.

As she stood and shook off the dirt and dried grass, she saw the Charleston team filing back in through the track gates. Mr. Armstrong was trailing a little behind. From this distance, it was difficult to determine facial expressions, but his posture seemed relaxed and positive.

Amy tried to be inconspicuous as she hustled over to speak with the coach.

“Hey Mr. Armstrong,” she called out in sotto voice, “sorry about running off earlier. I have some bad news and some good news.”

Daniel wasn’t sure where things had gone so horribly wrong.

After explaining the situation to the team, there had been that glorious feeling of Amy Tucker arriving in spirit. It was like being covered with a warm, loving blanket. And then he’d experienced the wondrous sensation of channeling magic, directing the spell from teammate to teammate to wash away the effects of the potion. With everyone cleansed, he was having a wonderful spirit to spirit moment that wasn’t quite the same as in-person, but was still damn good.

Then the end-of-halftime horn went off, and everything had gone to hell.

Now it felt like he was slogging through mud.

All the fatigue that should have been built up slowly over the first half arrived all at once. To make matters worse, there was a disgusting sloshing in his gut that refused to let go. He knew it was no more than he deserved for accepting that potion, but that didn’t make his misery any less.

Every move on the field was like swimming through syrup. Finding rushing holes was hunting through fog. Chasing down a runner or a receiver felt like breaking off a tackle every step of the way. Even the very air in the stadium felt thick and heavy.

The rest of the team clearly felt the same way. When the Charleston offense nailed their second drive of the quarter, the entire defense slumped onto the bench in silent exhaustion. The trainers offered encouragement and cups of water, but Dan’s stomach curled at the thought of drinking anything. The rest of his fellow defensive players also refused any drinks. The trainers were clearly worried, but no one insisted.

Four plays later, the Paris offense stalled again. Half the defensive line looked ready to stay seated in protest until Dan silently urged them back to their duty.

As a frustrated Aaron Shanks approached the bench, he voiced what everyone felt.

“This sucks.”

By the end of the third quarter, Paris barely held a twenty-eight to twenty-one lead. But they all knew the fourth quarter was coming. And it threatened to be a tide-turning massacre.

Then suddenly, as though the sun had risen, the heaviness faded.

Had Amy done this?

Dan looked up to the home-side bleachers where he’d seen her sitting earlier. At the time, she’d been bent over, likely in sympathetic agony, and hadn’t reacted to his stealthy wave.

Now she was gone.

Despite the reprieve, Charleston wasn’t about to let go easily. The Paris team had to fight tooth and nail to secure a final victory of forty-two to twenty-eight. The congratulatory line of handshakes between teams was decidedly subdued. Although Dan was certain one of the opposing players or coaches would protest, none of them contested the hard-earned victory.

After making some half-assed excuse that went surprisingly unchallenged, Dan snuck over to the shadows of the concession building. High hopes staved off his crushing fatigue. But when he arrived, only an abandoned paper cone awaited him. He held out as long as possible before several of his teammates came to lead him reluctantly away.

Amy Tucker hadn’t come.