From New York Times bestselling author Mike Lupica, comes a timely story about a young girl who joins the boys football team. With Mike's signature fast-paced, heartfelt writing, he expertly explores gender inequality in football with nonstop sports action. When twelve-year-old Alex makes up her mind to join her middle school's football team, she doesn't expect it to be easy. But she also never anticipated she'd be met with scorn and derision from her exclusively male teammates. Football has always been a source of happiness for Alex. She and her single father never miss a Steelers game on TV, and Alex knows she has a talent for throwing the perfect spiral. But the guys suck the joy right out of the game for Alex--going out of their way to trip her up during tryouts, and teaming up against her just to watch her fail. Suddenly, Alex is the lowest she's ever felt. But if getting QB is worth it to her, she's going to have to fight for it. Mike Lupica is a prominent sports journalist and the New York Times -bestselling author of more than forty works of fiction and non-fiction. A longtime friend to Robert B. Parker, he was selected by the Parker estate to continue the Sunny Randall and Jesse Stone series. Prologue All I wanted was to play football. This is what happened because I tried. 1 Alex’s father denied it every single time she’d ask. “I know you wanted a boy, Dad. It’s okay, I get it,” she’d tease. They were having the conversation again, on their way to the Orville town fair in western Pennsylvania. They’d spent the afternoon at the Pittsburgh Steelers training camp in Latrobe, a couple of towns over. “How many times do I have to tell you?” Jack Carlisle said to his daughter. “You were exactly what I wanted. It was almost like I ordered you from Amazon Prime. Free shipping and everything.” “Then answer me this,” she said. “Why’d you give me a boy’s name?” Jack Carlisle breathed a deep sigh. “Your mom and I didn’t give you a boy’s name,” he said. “We named you Alexandra. You’re the one who wanted us to call you Alex.” Alex smirked at her dad from the back seat. She never tired of messing with him like this. And despite the sighs and headshakes, she knew he loved it, too. It happened a lot when they were together. And they were together all the time. Jack Carlisle and Alex’s mom had divorced when Alex was only four. Her mom moved to the West Coast to become a surgeon and remarried, leaving Alex and her dad in Orville. Alex had regular phone calls with her mom, but she was closest to her dad. They were two peas in a pod. They both loved sports, but they loved each other more. Alex’s dad was a Steelers fan through and through. He followed other sports, too. Just not as closely as football, and not with the same enthusiasm as he rooted for the Steelers. When Alex was around eight years old, her dad began to notice how much she loved running and catching balls, and throwing them most of all. He used to joke that sports were one of the few things he’d passed on to his child. That, and his piercing blue eyes. Nevertheless, Alex was still convinced he’d wanted a boy. And she told him so now in the car. “I’m a lawyer, and I can’t even argue with my own daughter,” he said, shaking his head like he did when the Steelers were forced to punt. They were stopped at a light now. He used the brief pause to turn to Alex in the back seat and said, “You know how much I love you, pumpkin pie.” He had a lot of nicknames for her, so many that Alex lost track of them all. But “pumpkin pie” was the first one she could remember. “I do,” she said, giving him a playful wink so he knew she was joking. “Admit it, though. You would have loved me a little more if I were a boy.” He sighed, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. “Alexandra Carlisle.” “Call me Alex,” she said, and her dad chuckled. She loved making him laugh. It made her feel as if she’d scored a goal in soccer or struck out a batter in softball. They’d had a great day at Saint Vincent College watching the Steelers practice. Now they were heading back to Orville, because Jack Carlisle had promised to take Alex to the fair. Her dad had told her about a famous Steelers wide receiver, way back in her grandpa’s time, named Jimmy Orr. Jack Carlisle explained that their town wasn’t named after Jimmy Orr, but probably should have been. It was already the third week of August. The Steelers were playing preseason games, and Alex knew that the National Football League now had strict rules limiting the number of contact drills between games. But that was fine with her. She enjoyed watching all the passing drills, particularly the amazing accuracy of the three Steelers quarterbacks, from the shortest handoffs to the longest deep throw. She never got tired of watching the running backs and receivers run their patterns with such precision, making their cuts to the inside and outside from almost the exact same points on the field. More than anyt