The England team that took to the pitch for the tournament final was depleted. There was no Lily or Kester, who had, everyone thought, disappeared off the face of the earth, meaning a major reshuffle at the back.
The small stadium was packed with 2,000 supporters. The place seemed even stranger now that it was full: this tiny field of football fans underneath steep wooded mountainside and bare rock, all covered in a magnificent blanket of snow. The only area that was not white was the pitch.
In the executive boxes towards the back of the main stand, most of the politicians who were involved in the conference were dining, all in dresses and black suits with white shirts. Feeding themselves up before the final evening of the conference. They’d been invited to the dinner to encourage them to come to the final. And to give them a chance of an international photo opportunity.
Among them, as well as the British Prime Minister, was Frank Hawk. But Hawk wasn’t dressed smartly like the other politicians. He was wearing a USA football shirt.
‘U-S-A!’ he shouted as the teams came on to the pitch. ‘U-S-A!’ All the Squad could hear him above the general noise of the crowd.
‘Is that him?’ Georgia asked Hatty as they lined up. Hatty nodded.
‘This is going to be hard,’ Georgia said. ‘Losing on purpose, I mean.’
‘It is,’ Hatty agreed, her voice muted. ‘But it needs doing.’
And Georgia had been right: it was hard to lose on purpose.
The England team were – mostly – good. The attack and midfield players were making mincemeat out of the USA team, who had no defence against the crisp passing that Rio and the others were delivering.
The first goal came from Finn and Rio. As well as being best friends off the pitch, they were close on the pitch too. A one-two from the pair cut the USA team in half and Finn was able to slot the ball home.
1–0.
This was not the plan. Not for the Squad anyway.
As the defence took their positions after the goal, Georgia frowned at Hatty. ‘What do we do?’ she asked.
‘Give away penalties,’ Hatty said. ‘I’ll do one and you do one.’
‘OK,’ Georgia sighed.
But at half-time it was still 1–0 to England. And the England dressing room was bubbling.
‘This is easy,’ Rio said. ‘We are so going to win this tournament. We’re clearly the best.’
‘So easy,’ Finn echoed.
‘Let’s just play it safe,’ Rio went on. ‘Everyone? No rash tackles.’
The team nodded, drank their sports drinks, rubbed their tired muscles. They were confident – most of them – but not Hatty, Adnan or Georgia. They needed to find a way of losing this match. They had to lose it. If they won, the consequences were terrifying.
When the referee knocked on their door, they went back out on to the pitch for the second half.
Ten minutes into the second half, Hatty chopped an American girl in the penalty area. Adnan made it easy for her by staying on his goal line to create confusion in the box.
From the stand a huge shout went up. ‘PENALTY!’
Hawk.
The referee blew his whistle and pointed at the spot. Hatty, who’d fallen over while making the tackle, was helped to her feet by Rio.
‘Hard luck, Hatty. You couldn’t do much else.’
Hatty smiled sheepishly. But then she noticed the referee was facing her, standing by the penalty spot, a red card in his hand, raised high. The USA fans cheered again. Hatty was off, England down to ten players.
Hatty stormed off the pitch, purposely walking past Georgia. ‘It’s up to you,’ Hatty muttered.
‘I know,’ the other girl snapped.
‘You need to make us lose this,’ Hatty pushed. ‘You and Adnan.’
‘I know. I told you.’
And for the first time Hatty saw that Georgia looked vulnerable. She knew she had to make her feel strong, so that she could deliver.
‘Look, Georgia,’ she said. ‘I never thought much of you. But what you’ve done for us has been amazing. I’m … I’m really impressed with you.’
Hatty looked at Georgia’s face. Her worried expression had changed slightly. There was a look of determination there now. And Hatty knew she’d done her job. As she walked away from Georgia, towards the dressing rooms, she heard a cheer from the crowd. Then, above it all, Hawk’s unmistakable chanting.
‘U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!’
The penalty had already been taken. Hatty looked back at the goal. Adnan was picking the ball out of the net.
1–1.
Half an hour to go.
When Hatty was changed, she went to sit in the stand with the other fans. She looked at her watch. Five minutes to go. Still 1–1. The Squad needed two things.
First, a USA goal.
Second, for Adnan to suggest to the USA team that Hawk come to receive the cup with them. But Hatty knew that plans rarely work out exactly. So she wasn’t surprised when the final whistle went and the match was still level. The game would end with a penalty shoot-out. Five shots each. Whichever team scored the most would win.
Rio decided who the five penalty takers were to be for England by going round and telling them who was doing it, then making sure they were happy to take one.
The five were him, Finn, Johnny, one of the other midfielders and Georgia. England would take the first penalty.
As Rio strode up to the take the first shot, Adnan stood close to Georgia. ‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘You miss yours. I’ll let all theirs in, OK.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you feel OK about that?’
‘Yeah,’ Georgia said.
Then she shifted her feet. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I hate it. I just hope I don’t have to be the one to miss, the one that loses us the game.’
Ten minutes later, Georgia placed the ball on the penalty spot. Every USA player and every England player had scored. If Georgia scored, the score would be 5–5 and the penalty shoot-out would go on. If she missed, England would lose. Her nightmare scenario had come true.
I can’t do it, she said to herself. I can’t miss this.