'It's another night game?' Megan asked. She and Ty sat at the dining table. A copy of Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis lay next to her, nearly forgotten. She pushed her cereal—bran flakes and nuts, nothing colourful—around her bowl. He buttered another slice of toast.
It was a quiet Saturday morning. No cartoons, no drama, no snores. It was just them. He crunched through the bread before answering:
'Yeah.'
He stared down at the table, no spot in particular, just A spot. She recognised the look. He was focused. She didn't notice any shaking, so he wasn't scared. Was that a good sign? "No. Not scared. Ty's never scared."
'I'll watch every second. … Dad saw some of it last time.'
Ty's eyes snapped to hers though the rest of his body was still. 'And?'
'He liked the um, the interception.'
A prolonged breath escaped Ty and his eyes lowered back to the table. 'He stopped watching after that, didn't he?'
He almost missed her nod it was that small. The answer was expected, typical. Of course, Father wouldn't understand the nuances of locking down a Receiver so completely you never get thrown at.
'I'm sure he'll watch again.'
Ty grunted in response. He might turn it on again, but if the same thing's happening—as it likely would be—then what? Not to mention any of the others. Why did it matter? It shouldn't have, so why did such thoughts keep infecting his mind?
He ravenously shredded his remaining slice of toast, standing and moving to prepare more. Meg watched him, frowning. 'Are you sure you're alright?'
'I'm fine.'
He stood by the toaster and checked the time on his phone; pick up couldn't come fast enough.
'You'll do great,' Meg said. 'Dad knows how amazing you are.'
Ty laughed. 'Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Don't worry about it. The game'll be another boring one. Just like last week.'
'You're not boring.'
'…I should get ready.' He left the kitchen, walking into the boys' room which was enjoying a rare moment of silence. He closed the door behind him and fell onto his bed, hoping to sink through it.
There was nothing to get ready. He'd already done everything the night before. He just needed quiet. Meg's support was appreciated but when that support turned to pity … he sighed. These games, the ones where the outcome wasn't in question, why'd they have to be at night? Usually some sense of anticipation made everything seem quicker, but that day he was drowning in quicksand.
When he heard the toast pop, he walked out and snatched it. His bag was already slung over his shoulder, and he didn't bother with any butter as he headed for the door. 'I'm going for a ride. I'll see you tomorrow.'
She looked up from her book. 'Oh. Okay. Stay safe, Ty.'
He stepped out into the open, brow furrowed. As if there was any danger. He picked up his bike and adjusted how his bag sat over his shoulder before taking off.
He drifted through the streets for a while it was time to leave. Though he was lost in the emptiness of the streets and void of his mind for a moment, he arrived later than usual, one of the last Dons to show up.
Coach Long, waiting outside, noted his "lateness". 'Slept in for once, Tyrese?' he asked, a cheery smile on his face.
'Something like that,' Ty answered. He practically had been sleeping on his bike. Sleep-cycling? He found a spot for his bag in storage and headed into the bus.
The vibes were strong; evidently Ty wasn't the only one feeling good about their chances in the upcoming game. They weren't exactly celebrating already, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the boys at the back were planning HOW to celebrate that night. As if Coach Long would let them out of the hotel. Another slice or two of greasy pizza wasn't much to look forward to … but maybe Ty would run into Kentavious again.
'Hurry up and sit down, Samuels,' Coach Hoang said.
Ty blinked, then leaned down to him. 'Are you offering your seat?'
Coach Hoang grinned. In that grin, Ty caught a glimpse of what Coach Hoang must've looked like on the field back when he actually played.
'Just because I'm in this chair doesn't mean I won't throw you off this bus, Samuels.'
Ty flashed his own grin before settling into the seat behind Coach Hoang. Of course, Bella was already there. It's not like the bus being full had changed his choice of seating. She beamed at him, though didn't give him much room. She was practically hanging over into his seat as he squished in.
Her smile faded as she looked him over, finally leaning back to let him in comfortably. 'You better be taking this seriously,' she said.
He blinked again. Where had that come from? And who did she think he was. A dangerous look met her irritated gaze and hardened it.
'Of course I am!'
'You don't look like it.'
'I don't … and you know how focused I am because of how I look, do you? What are you, psychic?'
'No! I just know the signs. Your hands aren't shaking.'
'Shaking? I… What do you know about that? My hands don't shake. See?' He held up a hand that was steady for the moment though he was sure he'd start trembling with rage if she kept going the way she was.
'I already told you they weren't shaking now. They were shaking before we played the Eagles.'
His mouth dropped open. He closed his hand into a fist and lowered it to his lap. 'I would've been cold.'
She scoffed, looking as if he'd just told her the earth was flat. 'Yeah, right. Then what about before we played Sierra Canyon? Or both times against the Bears? Or—'
'Enough!'
He looked past her, out the window, as the bus finally kicked into drive, the final member on board, Coach Long stood at the front to address the team. So what if she'd noticed his shaking it was … it was an involuntary response. It didn't mean anything. And they'd WON those games … most of them anyway. Ty leaned closer to Bella to whisper in her ear.
'Whether my hands shake or not means nothing. I'm always focused on EVERY game. If my hands are shaking it just means …' Ideas bounced through his mind like pinballs. He smacked others aside before landing on the one that felt right. '… That my adrenaline is high.'
She rolled her eyes. Her hand found his. She was shaking, ever so slightly, as she wrapped her fingers around him. 'It's okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared before something important.'
He wrenched his hand away. She flinched as if he'd pulled a thorn from her palm. 'I'm not scared.'
Her hurt expression remained as she turned away, nodding silently. She leaned against the window, curling in on herself. Ty sunk into his seat, suppressing a groan. It wasn't going to be an enjoyable drive … maybe he could sleep through it.
He didn't, but thankfully his mind drifted shortly after they left the carpark and the trip blended in on itself, passing quickly. Even if the Tigers weren't a strong team, Dumbo was still the third ranked WR. He would've been their one saving grace. Once Ty shut him down, they'd be finished.
He'd provide a strong challenge, a good test for his growth. If Ty could shut him down, then Kentavious would be within reach, and with another couple of games to prepare for him, Ty would be ready to shut him down just as completely.
Those were the thoughts flowing through his head as the bus pulled into Allegiant Stadium. The flash of cameras and clamour of questions was missing as the players stepped out of the bus. A question flickered through Ty's consciousness as they entered the hall, but it was quickly snuffed out.
When they reached the locker room, and as Ty tried to step through the doors, Coach Long stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. 'Tyrese. I should've told you sooner, but there's something you need to do before the game.'
Confusion filled Ty's face. Coach Long sighed, rubbing his bald head. 'Trust me, I tried to get you out of this, but there was this talk of contractual obligations, and fines. I should've had a better read over those waivers but I thought all the media rights were just about giving them permission to televise the games. I'm sorry.'
'Coach, what are you talking about?'
As the rest of the team poured into the room, they glanced at the pair. Murmurs spread through them. One question bounced off the walls and everyone's lips—what was going on with them?
'The media wants you for a pregame interview,' Coach Long finally said. 'It's that ANB network. If we didn't we'd get a fine the school just can't afford to take.'
Ty laughed, surprising Coach Long. 'Is that all? There's nothing to be sorry for, Coach. I'll gladly do it, just point me in the right direction.'
Surprise turned to concern on Coach Long's face. His hand didn't leave Ty's shoulder. 'Just say the word and I'll pull you out of there. And remember not to let this throw you off your game. Keep focused on what you need to do, Tyrese. I'll be right there.'
Ty didn't know why he was so worried. It'd probably just be some easy questions about how he's feeling, maybe ask for a prediction for how the game would go. It'd be a breeze.
Coach Long kept a hand on him, guiding him through the hall, twisting and turning as they went through a set of doors before the tunnel leading out onto the field. Through another hall and another set of doors before coming to another room, this one with a security guard standing outside of them. The guard took one look at Coach Long and Ty and nodded for them to go through the open door.
Ty stepped into what was probably just a backstage storage area, which had been turned into a makeshift studio with a curtained back drop, standing lights, a camera and its crew, a small table, and three chairs—two of which were filled. In the central chair was Julia Skye, the reporter from the Eagles game, and on her opposite side was Elliot "Dumbo" Wall.
Across the room was another man leaning on the far wall. A pot-bellied figure with a plump face. His thin moustache curled up across his cheeks, and his black straight hair was curled at the tips. Even his coat was red. The ringleader for Dumbo's circus.
Coach Long pulled Ty back from the door. 'Tyrese. Say the word if you're uncomfortable with this ambush, and we'll go back to the locker room.'
Anger hid behind concern in Coach Long's eyes. Ty glanced to the room again. Ambush was a good word for it. What were they setting up. A pre-fight sit down for two boxers? He wouldn't run. The game was still an hour away, but mental warfare was well underway.
'I'll let you know, Coach. But I'll be okay.' He patted Coach Long's hand before waltzing into the room and toward the empty chair.
Julia, and Elliot both stood, the former offered her hand. Ty shook it lightly and sat down without acknowledging Elliot. An assistant moved in, attaching a mic to Ty's shirt. Elliot sat down as Julia explained it would just be a quick interview as she had some questions for the both of them, and it'd be easier to get them out of the way at the same time.
The camera man counted them in and filming started as Julia went through her intro. Ty stared across her, meeting Elliot's gaze. He stared back, impassive and unreadable, his eyes seemed to be looking into Ty's soul and nowhere at the same time. His hands were steepled before him, prayer beads wrapped around both wrists.
Julia went on, oblivious to the tension building around her. 'And with me before our big All-American clash, I have the stars from both sides. The Neville Tigers' offensive star and All-American Wide Receiver, Elliot Wall. Opposite him is the number one ranked defensive player in the nation, Dominguez Dons' All-American Cornerback, Tyrese Samuels. Welcome boys.'
'Greetings and salutations,' Elliot said, bowing his shiny head slightly.
Ty raised a hand in effect of a wave. Julia's smile never wavered. 'Are we feeling any nerves before the big game?'
'There's nothing to be nervous about,' Elliot said. 'Such a reaction holds no sway over the game.'
'I don't get nervous,' Ty said.
Julia tittered, looking from one boy to the other. 'Neither of you are lacking confidence. That's a good sign.' She turned to Elliot. 'Elliot, do you mind if I start with you?'
He nodded in assent.
'You're ranked number three in the country when it comes to Wide Receivers. Do you think this ranking accurately reflects your skill?'
'Such an arbitrary system holds no concern of mine. I won't brag of my skills, but my teammates have utmost faith in me and themselves. I'll do my best to prove the Tigers are the strongest team and earn victory, the football gods willing.' He pressed his hands together, beads rattling as he ducked his head in prayer.
"Great. Another religious nutter."
'A team player,' Julia said. 'Is that how you're going to get the win today? Through greater teamwork?'
'We'll win or lose however the football gods see fit. All I can say is that we'll do our best to honour them, like always.'
'Oh please,' Ty said.
'Do you have a comment, Tyrese?'
'Yeah—stop spouting bullshit, Dumbo'—Elliot mouthed the word, bald brow fusing—'whatever gods you're talking about have nothing to do with anything. The game's decided on the field, not in the heavens. End of. You know you're outmatched, so you're already looking for excuses for when you lose.'
Elliot frowned. 'One who disrespects the football gods is sure to run foul of them sooner or later. I'll pray for your wayward soul, Tyrese, but it's not too late to correct your path.'
Ty shot to his feet, almost knocking his chair over. 'Shove those prayer beads up your ass! There's no such thing as "football gods". Those are just the fairy tales of losers.'
Elliot shook his head, expression softening to that a kindergarten teacher might have when addressing a child. 'How does one know which way a fumble will fall? Or a tipped ball? What about onside-kicks or field goals that hit the posts? Or ultimately, what keeps a player from getting injured when they're blind-sided by a big hit? What you might think of as mere luck goes much deeper.'
'Luck?' Ty cackled. 'LUCK?! You'd need to be lucky to beat me. Lucky enough that I break my leg in two walking to the field, because that's the ONLY way a delusion loser like you could ever stand against me.'
'I wouldn't wish that fate upon anyone.' Elliot closed his eyes, lips moving rapidly and soundlessly. 'I ask you reconsider your worldview and repent before your karma catches up with you, Tyrese.'
'I've got some karma for you, you big-eared—'
'Tyrese!' Julia cut in. She'd been overawed, knowing the spontaneous argument was better than what they could've hoped for, but if it went too far things would end way too abruptly. 'Whilst Elliot is ranked number three in his position, you're number one. Do you feel such a discrepancy will show itself on the field today?'
'Of course it will. I'll show Dumbo here, and everyone watching just how big the difference between us really is.'
'What are your thoughts on that, Elliot?'
'Tyrese may be more skilled than me, but it won't matter if he isn't favoured. I hope and pray both teams have a blessed game, but I have a feeling the football gods' favour will fall the Tigers' way today.'
Julia's grin couldn't get wider. This was the big break she needed. These two were dynamic. She turned back to Ty. 'Is there any concern about the Tigers' being undefeated coming into today?'
Ty glared down at Elliot who sat there, as cool as an iceberg, hands still pressed together. 'I love nothing more than ripping a team's zero away. Today won't be any different.'
Julia looked as if she had a follow up question, but Ty ripped the mic from his shirt and tossed it down, turning and stalking out of the door. He'd said all he needed to. The rest of the talking could be saved for the game.
Coach Long waited by the door, a frown set deep in his face. Ty walked past him and back towards the locker room. He didn't care if Elliot saw the encounter as a win in his column regarding their mental battle. One thing was for certain—he was going to tame the Tigers, crush Dumbo and his ridiculous notions of "football gods", and burn the whole circus down.