The Dons' road back home had been a quiet one, especially with how energetic and boisterous their post-victory celebrations had been. Still, like any win earned on the gridiron, it didn't come without scars.
JJ and Cameron were a little banged up, sitting nearer the front with the staff, heat-packs sitting between their shoulder blades; being the main driving force for the offence—especially in such a physical and gruelling fashion—had taken its toll.
Ty bore bandages around his left calf. It had been a long cut, but still only a cut, he didn't know why he was getting such concern from the coaches as well, they'd even made the doctor give him a tetanus shot. Bella had been freaking out about wanting to make sure he was alright, but not wanting to look at the wound, but still wanting to check if the bandages were tight yet not tight enough to hurt him.
He sighed, shifting in his seat. Thankfully the resulting headache had been fixed with a night's sleep, and she hadn't been nearly as confusing or prattling since.
Sitting next to him throughout the bus ride, her attention shifted to his leg, then back up to his face when she noticed him noticing her. She'd then turn away, acting as if she was never looking in the first place.
"So confusing," Ty thought, glancing out the window.
The aftermath of their victory was still rippling outward, and Ty couldn't help but guess at what it'd all look like once those ripples stopped. Colby's scholarship would've been all but signed already, so the humiliating defeat probably wouldn't hurt his hopes of getting into the D1 school of his choice, but would he ever be a starter again? Ty grinned, picturing the boy wallowing away on the bench forever.
Richaun was another beast. First there was his injury. Ty didn't think it'd hamper him much, the real damage would be deeper, not so easy to see as broken bones; would Richaun mentally recover? His defeat had been even more embarrassing than Colby's. He wouldn't be surprised if Richaun crawled into some hole and was never seen again.
Though the injury did cause some problems. Maybe it'd give Richaun an out—"If only my hand wasn't broken on that final play, I'd have won the game." One of the morning headlines after the game was already trying to stake that claim.
"It's bullshit. And I didn't injure him on purpose. I was just protecting myself, and he's the dumbass who punched MY helmet. It didn't matter if his hand was broken, or had gorilla glue coating it, I would've beaten him no matter what."
Perhaps the drive back home wasn't as peaceful as the quiet, overcast day suggested. There was still turmoil within Ty, and that didn't even take into account the trembling anticipation sitting just beneath the surface; there was only one more game between him and championship day. One final hurdle, and then he'd be at the grandest stage of them all.
Ty's home was quiet as well. Something he didn't notice for a little while upon arriving; too distracted by the light ache the bike ride from school had caused in his leg. Such an ache brought attention to how his bandages chafed against his skin when he actually had to get up and move about, so of course when he went inside, he went straight for the bathroom to remove them, and take a shower.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped tight around his waist, he almost ran into Megan.
'Oh! Sorry,' she said, eyes darting all over the place. 'I didn't think you'd be back yet.'
He nodded, not exactly wanting to sit around and talk while he was still practically naked. He slid across to his room, closing the door. Though before it fully shut, he glanced back over his shoulder. For someone who didn't think he was home, it had looked like she was just waiting in the hall. … Must've thought it was one of the other siblings in the shower.
When he was dressed, Megan sat with him on his bed, talking about the game. She was so happy for him, so proud, so excited. Father hadn't been home, but she was sure he'd been watching. When he brought up Devon, she looked confused. Evidently he hadn't watched with her either, but she took their older brother's enthusiasm about Ty's success as proof that no matter where the others were, they would be watching and rooting for him; Ty wasn't convinced.
Of course, Meg was worried about his leg as well. Though it was funny how furious she got when talking about "that rat b-bastard" Richaun. Ty had never seen her so pissed off—her voice was squeaking and her fists shaking as she clutched her skirt.
'Don't worry about him,' Ty told her. 'I got the last laugh, anyway.'
She grinned at that. 'You always do, big brother.'
But her anger regarding Richaun, and subsequent glee over his downfall, couldn't distract her from his leg for long. She fussed over him worse than anyone, and wouldn't stop nagging until he allowed her to apply some fresh bandages.
Later, despite Megan's assurance everyone would've been watching and caring about Ty's games, that night's family dinner did little to support her claim. Father still wasn't there, nor were Vicky or Devon—but at least Vicky came creeping back home later that night, unlike Father and Devon. Mother was present, bringing the twins with her, of course, yet she said nothing about the game, nor how much closer Ty was to the championship.
No matter how much things changed, some stuff just stayed the same.
Monday was another annoyance, at least before training. The school days were … it was strange. In the halls, his presence, his glory was finally acknowledged. The thing he wanted, right? That recognition, that he was the best. But did they even know that? They whispered about him, looking, sometimes rarely pointing and gesturing. Their behaviour was more like they'd seen a unicorn or something.
What good was distant praise and approval from strangers, when the ones who mattered still couldn't see him? Especially when most of those strangers wouldn't know a football if it fell out of their ass.
Girls smiled and waved at him in passing, some even giggled to their friends if he looked over. None approached him, or even said anything more than "hi"; Bella always seemed there to dissuade any who might've thought about it. But they weren't so bad. … The fanboys were.
Pointless praise, mocking imitations. They were suffocating suck-ups. Cloying, idiotic, assholes. Bella's presence didn't dissuade their approaches. They were too familial. Acting as if they were good friends, as if they'd known who he was for more than a day, like they had been best buds since orientation. Slapping his back, rubbing his head, like they were the brothers who put their bodies on the line with him week-in week-out. Worse than that, the seniors were looking down at him, like he was some dog that could do tricks for them.
He thought about punching one, or biting the next hand to touch him. That might wipe those condescending looks away … but no. A suspension wouldn't just be one from school, it'd be one from football, too.
So he etched those faces into his mind, focused on the feeling of them touching him like some exotic creature, and added it to the fire he was building for his next opponent. Fuel as potent as gasoline for his motivational bonfire.
At least lunch brought a reprieve. Most of the fanboys were smart enough not to bother any of the team when they were in larger groups, spanning multiple of the long tables filling the cafeteria. Any that were dumb enough to approach were quickly shouted down and told to fuck off by either Deshaun or Stephen the moment they got pushy or annoying.
And there was a light at the end of the tunnel; a practice session awaited.
It was a strange phenomena in the lead up. Time slowed to a crawl, every second stretching into five. Yet when Ty stepped foot on the grass, and inhaled his first breath—full of mustiness from the turf, sun-baked plastic from the nearby bleachers, and a light acrid bite lingering in his nostrils from the painted logos and end-zones—it was like the day's previous events stopped existing, as if there was nothing in between the journey he took from home, to where he currently stood.
A gentle wind drifted across the field as Ty got down and started stretching. His tracksuit pants covered the cut along his leg. Without any pain, Ty had forgotten the pathetic battle wound Richaun had given him.
JJ and Rabbit arrived not long after Ty. Together. The two were becoming closer and closer friends. If JJ wanted to spend his last months at Dominguez High working on a charity case like Rabbit, that was his decision.
Coach Hoang was the first of the coaches to arrive, a little surprising, seeing as Coach Long usually brought him, but when he made a beeline for Ty, it was obvious he had something important that couldn't wait.
Ty had just finished his warmup lap around the field when Coach Hoang reached him. 'How high can you jump, Samuels?' There was no time for greetings, it seemed.
'I don't know. I don't measure that shit. I just know I can out jump anyone.'
'We'll see about that today. How's your leg?'
Ty's brow furrowed. 'It's fine. Why do you want to hear what my vertical is?'
But Coach Hoang didn't answer. He was already wheeling around and hurrying away from the field. Whilst waiting for his return, Ty did sprints up and down the bleachers.
However, Coach Long arrived before Coach Hoang returned, as did most of the staff, and more of the players, and soon the team was gathered around for Coach Long's announcement, and Coach Hoang still hadn't returned.
Ty tried to put it out of his mind, though it continued to niggle away at the back of his thoughts as he listened to the speech.
'Congratulations again, boys,' Coach Long began. 'We … YOU made it to the semifinals. Every week, you boys amaze me, and I apologise for that, because I shouldn't be surprised. You're already champions, and all I can do every week is try to help you show the world just how amazing you all are.
'Speaking of that, this week we've still got another roadblock in our way. There's only four teams left in the tournament, including us, and they've all had to fight to get where they are. Expect every challenge to be our hardest yet. So that's why we need to take this next team as seriously as any other. This weekend, we'll be facing the Westfield Shamrocks, they're the Indiana representatives.'
They were the team who had Coach Hoang rattled? Ty's thoughts couldn't help but go back to the man, and at that time, he was finally returning to the scene, settling in at the edge of the expansive huddle focused before Coach Long.
Westfield Shamrocks. Stringbean. That's why the name registered in Ty's mind. It was hard to forget such a giant asshole. Literally. Stringbean had stood head and shoulders over EVERYBODY at the gala. Only a sophomore, but he must've already been seven feet tall. But the most annoying thing about him, was that he'd been the number one ranked TE. Stronger than Joseph Fale, and Fale had pushed the Dons to the brink.
Ty's gaze locked onto Coach Hoang, who was staring at him, jaw rigid, mouth set in a thin straight line. Stringbean was the one who had him so worried? Ty almost laughed. What could he do?
Coach Long finished his speech by mentioning how gritty and tough the Shamrocks were. They played hard, but they played with unity and fundamentals. A team without any immediate or obvious weaknesses. It was going to be an equal, hard, drawn-out battle, he was sure. One that would come down to whichever team wanted it more. The boys needed to show him how badly they wanted it that day.
There wasn't anything special in practice that day, no specific techniques they were trying to implement. It was just a long, gruelling session, performed at max intensity throughout, with little time for rest. The only strange thing about it was the crowd of onlookers, which was growing each week.
The Shamrocks weren't specialists in strength like the Eagles or Warriors, and they weren't speedsters like the Monarchs or Cobras either. The only warning Coach Long gave was that they were tall, so the Dons would have to fight from underneath; but they were used to—and comfortable—being the underdogs.
Ricky made an appearance halfway through the session, though he approached only Coach Hoang. The pair looked Ty's way a few times while they talked, but Coach Hoang shook his head, and Ricky left Ty alone. Good. But it did pique his curiosity WHY Coach Hoang would save him the trouble of dealing with the brat.
The session ended without fanfare, but as they were clearing up and getting ready to head home, Coach Hoang came to Ty's side. 'You got time, Samuels? Ah who am I kidding, you've got nothing else going on in your life except this. Come with me.'
Ty glared at the back of Coach Hoang's head. Sure, Coach was right, but he didn't have to be a dick about it. Ty followed the man away from the field, and across to the school gym.
Fresh air was replaced with stale sweat, old leather, and iron as Ty stepped inside the empty gym, looking around. 'What did you want with me in here?'
'It's about the question I asked you before practice.'
'About how high I can jump?'
'Good to see playing this sport from an early age hasn't ruined your short-term memory … yet.'
'Very funny. You already know its given me anger issues, so why don't you get to the point.'
Coach Hoang laughed. 'Easy, Samuels. You'll like this.' Coach Hoang rolled over to an empty stretch of wall, and glanced up. Ty followed his gaze. There was only faded maroon paint until the school's name was written out in bold yellow letters, also slightly faded and off.
'What am I looking at?' Ty asked.
'See that mark there?'
Ty scanned the wall again, more slowly. It stretched up fifteen feet to the ceiling, but there, about twelve feet off the ground, was a piece of black tape.
'Need me to get it off for you, Coach?' Sarcasm dripped off Ty's voice.
'I do, actually.'
'What?'
Coach Hoang stared at him, face blank as stone. 'Can you reach it? Because Jeremiah Byrd can.'
Ty frowned at the tape, looking the wall up and down. 'That's his vertical?'
'Sure is.' Coach Hoang rolled away from the wall, returning to Ty's side. 'Did you know he only started playing football this season? In his freshman year he played basketball. They won State. By a pretty big margin, too.'
It didn't take much imagination to envision a seven-foot high-schooler dominating on a basketball court. But football was a much different sport. Still, he'd managed to make it to the final four in the nation.
'So can you reach that piece of tape? Can you eclipse it?' There was a tearing sound, then Coach Hoang was holding out an identical patch of black marking tape to Ty.
Ty took the tape, still staring at the wall. 'Standing or running?'
'Byrd? Standing. You? Whatever you need to do to get your tape higher up on that wall.'
Grimacing, Ty marched over and stood underneath the tape, shoulder nearly pressing against the wall. He breathed deeply, steadying himself. He swung his arms, squatting short, bobbing up and down as he built up a rhythm before dipping down enough his ass was almost touching the ground, then he exploded upwards. With a yell, he stretched towards the ceiling, and slapped the tape onto the wall.
He landed with a grunt, stumbling away from the wall, staring up at it. Coach Hoang sighed beside him. 'You've got a lot of work ahead of you, Samuels.' As he moved towards the door, there was a jangle of keys. He left a ring of them on a hook by the double doors leading out. 'Power shuts off at ten. Make sure to lock up when you leave. Oh and, don't use too much tape, we're gonna have to peel it off after this.'
Ty didn't watch him leave. He was still staring up at the two pieces of tape on the wall. He definitely had a new goal to strive for, and not a lot of time to make up the difference. It was like staring across a gorge with no bridge, no way to cross, yet knowing you had to jump as the ground underneath your feet was slowly crumbling away.
"He's tall, but it doesn't matter. On my field, NO-ONE can reach higher than me."
He rubbed his hands together, breathing deep again, preparing for the next jump. Yes, there was a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time. Jeremiah's marker stood a yard higher than Ty's, but it was the longest yard Ty had ever seen.