Ty had fallen into a rhythm. Not a comfortable one, but a productive one. Like usual, he would start early, doing the stretches and exercises of his current stage of rehab, keeping as quiet as a mouse so as not to disturb the still-sleeping twins. Devon, of course, was nowhere to be found.
As for Ty, instead of crawling back into bed and resting more, he'd get his ass up and ready for school. Megan helped where she could—namely making him breakfast, though that was usually something as simple as eggs on toast—but he wanted to look after himself.
Then it was off to school, via Coach Long, who didn't mind driving him, seeing it as an opportunity to check in with him, and give him extra motivation to start the day right. Plus, it made sure Ty was going to school.
At school, Ty would hobble through the halls on his crutches, clinging to them like they were trophies, and glare back at anyone who he thought stared too long. Bella was typically by his side, glaring along with him.
During classes he worked as diligently as he thought Megan would, (which still wasn't up to her level, but it was the best Ty could do,) and between them he travelled calmly and carefully to the next.
During breaks he'd read. He'd continued his fiction kick with the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but had also picked up a few more autobiographies from the library. Malakai Vimes' book had ended triumphantly. The Cardinals had finally reached the playoffs again, and Malakai himself won not just Comeback Player of the Year, but Defensive Player of the Year on top of it. Ty needed to replicate such successes.
Most of the other books didn't have as straightforward a journey, usually going over the subject's entire life, or a much greater period of it, but Ty found them to be an interesting exploration of the athletes, and how they planned to succeed, or how they'd achieved success. Even more interesting was the reasoning for their success, which often went at odds with what Ty thought made them successful; a lot of them thanked their families (hah), or God, some even had special, specific moments they credited with their success—their first NFL game they watched in person, or their grandparent buying them their first pair of cleats.
Ty couldn't understand that. Football was everything. All he'd known, and from his first memories, he'd known he was going to be a star. But maybe that is what Dr Goggins had meant when she'd said he'd never be able to properly emulate his opponents because he didn't truly know how they'd led their lives; how could he learn about Skywalker's life? He'd have to read about nepo-babies who had everything handed to them, he supposed… maybe Senior nepo-baby himself had an autobiography. He seemed the type to be narcissistic enough to write one even without being a big name in the sport he gave his life to.
No matter what he was looking for, he could find them in the school library, and each time he went there after school to return books and loan some more, Punk was always there, too. He still hadn't asked her name. Though neither had she. Even if she knew of his exploits, Ty doubted she actually knew his name. It didn't seem important.
Then he'd be heading back home, once again driven by Coach Long.
After saying his goodbyes, he'd do another round of exercises and stretches, ride up and down the street a few times on his bike, and then he'd settle down and watch some of the Dons' tape from the previous season. He'd expanded his studying from the National Championship game, working backwards through the tournament, finding what worked better, and what he did differently in each game, that he couldn't pull off in the final.
They were all different opponents, but still. At the end of the day, Kentavious Rice Junior was just a Receiver like any other, and that meant Ty should be able to humiliate him like any other.
Things continued like this for a little while. Days passed, then a week, and Dr Goggins was happy with his progress, moving him on to the next stage. He could exercise harder, with more intensive stretches and lifts, still keeping it to callisthenics, but now there were some proper squats, and he could even walk on his own for longer and the same went for riding his bike. Unfortunately, he was still stuck to his crutches at school.
It was a hard mountain to climb, but it was Ty's mountain, and it didn't matter if the journey was rough and full of challenges, if he carried a burden so heavy it'd make Sisyphus relieved to have only his boulder, Ty was going to reach that peak again, and throw Kentavious Rice and the Longhorns from it. As long as he kept at it, he'd be off his crutches soon… but not soon enough.
Just when things were looking up for Ty, and he'd found his grove on his road back to the top, an unforeseen obstacle reared its ugly head, and formed a roadblock.
Summer break was fast approaching, when Dominguez High organised an orientation day for the next school year's hopeful freshman.
Ty was still restrained to his crutches, and the gaggle of kids were crowding the hall, listening to some teacher explain some unimportant history about the school.
After Ty's patience had run out, (all of five seconds,) and the blockage was still in the way, he started snapping at those lingering in the back of the group to move aside.
One boy, an inch taller than Ty—Great, there's gonna be freshman taller than me next year—turned and looked him over. The boy was rather unassuming until he grinned, flashing sharp teeth.
'Hey,' the sharp-toothed boy said. 'Ain't you that failure who blew his knee out in the championship?'
Others were turning to look, some snickering and grinning along with the first boy, though minus the sharp teeth. Ty narrowed his eyes, taking the insult in stride.
'And who are you? A nobody. Tell me when you're somebody.' Ty went to shove past, but the boy stopped him, one hand gripping one of Ty's crutches.
'The name's Guy, and you're gonna hear it a lot. 'Cause I'm the one who's gonna make up for you and all those useless old fucks embarrassing this school on the national stage.'
Ty swung his other crutch at Guy's—What a stupid fucking name—head, just at the same moment Guy swept both Ty's first crutch and his bad leg out from under him. Both boys fell, and the other kids nearby screamed with delight, fumbling with their pockets to retrieve their phones… not a one of them filmed the brief scuffle in horizontal mode.
When Guy hit the ground, he was dazed for a moment, and though pain was flaring bright and hot in Ty's leg, he lashed out, dragging himself on top of Guy, crutches forgotten as he pounded and pummelled until the nearby teachers stepped in and pulled Ty off, separating the boys.
'It's always you, isn't it, Samuels?' one teacher said, handing Ty back his crutches.
'Fuck off.'
'The principal is going to hear about this!' they yelled, but Ty was already moving away. He wasn't heading for the principal's office, nor Coach Long's, not even his classroom or the library, he was just heading home.
'Yeah, run away you fucking bi—'
A meaty smack interrupted Guy's raving, and there were more shouts and hollers from the other kids on orientation as another fight broke out; Ty didn't turn around to look. He just kept on going.
His leg ached the whole way back, and he had his second—but not last—fight of the day with himself as he made the slow trek home. Regret nibbled away at him, and no matter how hard he stomped it down, it kept on coming back after a few seconds, or even a minute.
Coach Long was going to hear about his altercation, and while that was bad enough, so would Dr Goggins. No doubt she'd find some irritation in his knee as well, and that most likely meant another week of no progress—the boulder slipped back another several yards.
But how could Ty regret what he'd done? That punk-bitch "Guy" had deserved it. Talking shit about Ty right to his face was bad enough, but that alone could've been ignored in extreme circumstances like Ty was currently facing… but to think any of the other Dons were failures when the blame lay entirely on Ty's shoulders as the star? Unforgivable. Ty's only regret was he hadn't hit the bitch harder.
Yet that was only the beginning of Ty's trouble. Things had been going too well, just like with the Dons' championship run, and now it was all going to crash down in a matter of moments.
After Ty's long, arduous trek back home, Devon was waiting for him. With his crutches, and being exhausted from the long haul from school, Ty couldn't escape his brother. They had to have a chat, and so Ty followed Devon into their shared room, not having much of a choice.
'Ayy, li'l bro, how's the leg goin'?' Devon asked, voice dripping with false sincerity.
Ty scowled, his chest still heaving with each breath, and sweat dripping down his face.
'That bad, eh? This is good timin' then, 'cause I got a little something something for ya, bro.'
Ty's scowl didn't falter. Whatever "something something" Devon had in store, Ty didn't want any part of it; no such thing from Devon could be good.
'You better wipe that look off ya face real quick. This is an opportunity for ya. You should be grateful I'm willin' to help ya in ya time of need, especially after the way ya fucked me and my boys when ya weren't willin' to play along in those last games. And how'd that work out for ya?… Exactly.'
At that moment, Ty's expression could've only darkened further if both Kentavious Junior and Senior were in front of him.
'All I'm askin' is for ya to come meet a couple of friends of mine. Ones who can help ya out, give ya something to do even with that bum-ass leg. Wouldn't ya like to make some money, huh?… No?' Devon scoffed. 'Fuckin' hell. My little brother, the only freak in the world who doesn't give a shit about money. Yeah? Well they got other shit too. They could get you some good shit, some REAL medicine. Shit that'll make ya stronger than ya ever were before ya fucked everything up and got hurt.'
'Fuck you!' Ty spat. Had somebody picked out today to be the day he was constantly reminded of the championship game and his injury? Why? It wasn't even the anniversary of the event, so why fucking now?
'Hey!' Devon crossed the room in a flash, one hand going to Ty's bad knee, sinking his fingers and nails into the sensitive muscles, ligaments, and tendons. 'Don't mouth off to me ya fuckin' brat. Ya lucky I don't fuck ya up for the shit ya cost me. My friends coulda fuckin' ended you, but here they are, offerin' ya a second chance, and ya spit in their fuckin' face?'
Ty spat in Devon's face… and was promptly rewarded with a punch to the face, and then another to the knee. The second hurt a lot more than the first, which he'd been expecting. After the second, he couldn't hold back his agony, and cried out. As Devon reared back to continue his assault, eyes clouded red with rage, Megan's voice broke through.
'Ty? Is that you?'
Devon shoved Ty back just before Meg poked her head through the door. Ty said nothing, but it was clear—with a little thanks to Ty's earlier fight and some bruising already showing from one of Guy's lucky punches—what was going on.
Meg glared at Devon, trembling with fury. Only she would know if there was also some fright in those shivers.
'P-Piss off, Devon,' she hissed.
'You piss off, Meg' he retorted. 'Go back to ya books and shut the fuck up like a good little girl.'
She looked between Devon and Ty, who was scooting over to reach for one of his crutches. She held firm, staring down Devon. 'I'm telling Dad,' she said.
Devon rolled his eyes but got up, walking for the door. 'Fuckin' snitch.' As he passed Meg, he shoved her against the door frame. She yelped, and Ty raised to his feet, pain shooting out of his knee again, but Devon was already gone, the front door soon slamming behind him.
Ty and Meg were left in the boys' room. Ty sagged back onto the bed, and Meg rubbed at her back. 'Are you alright?' they both asked at once.
'It was just a fright,' Meg said. 'I'm not hurt.'
Ty nodded, chewing over his own feelings. He was definitely gonna have a black eye the next day, and his leg was feeling worse and worse as the current day dragged on… but what hurt him worst of all was the fact he needed his little sister to save him.
'I was fine,' he muttered.
'Don't lie,' she said, sounding more hurt than even when she yelped.
She moved over to his bed, trying to get a better look at him, but he flinched away from her.
'I said I'm fine!'
She recoiled, but stayed sitting on the edge of his bed. He sighed.
'Whatever, I'm taking a shower.'
Megan meekly nodded as he got up, moving past her, out the room, and just a few steps down the hall to the bathroom.
Maybe a shower would help him out. He definitely needed to do something for his leg. If the hot water didn't ease it, maybe some ice would.
If their bath wasn't a rusted piece of shit, he wouldn't taken a long soak in some hot water. Maybe that could've boiled his troubles away as it boiled him; the shower did jack-shit.
He still felt horrible. He'd barely done anything that day, and yet he felt as worn down and exhausted as if he'd done a whole day of training, and then a solo session on top of that, and his leg was still in agony.
Maybe some more fresh air would do it some good, ignoring the long slow hop-walk back home. If he could just sit and relax for a moment in the sun, that could prove all the difference.
Yet, when Ty returned to his room, his crutches weren't laying over his bed where he'd left them. It wasn't the end of the world, as he didn't need them, but nobody should be touching his shit.
Ty was wondering if Devon had snuck back in through the window and taken them to fuck with him, when he heard a high-pitched squeal from outside. He shuffled to the window and peered out, spotting the twins in the backyard… with his crutches. They could barely lift them, but they were still trying to run around with them, still trying to use them like they'd seen Ty use them, and sometimes just weakly banging them against one another.
'Son of a…'
The act wasn't a major offence, but he'd warned the twins previously that his crutches weren't TOYS. And with the day he'd been having, more so the last hour, the twins' act of thievery was the tiny cut that snapped Ty's patience.
He marched out of the house, backdoor slamming off the wall and rebounding shut behind him. 'Hey!'
The twins shrieked again, but turned to him with wide smiles, and were soon giggling again. They fled from him, though even in his hobbled state, Ty easily caught up as they tried to get away with their unwieldy loot.
He grabbed the nearest twin, uncaring if it was Josh or Other, and wrenched his crutch free. This sent the twin sprawling, and tumbling into a dusty old flower pot which tipped back precariously.
Ty had never even seen thing before, yet the whatever poor thing had been planted in it was already dead and blackened, looking more like a weed than a flower. Yet it was held in a large, dense ceramic pot, almost as big as the twins. It wobbled for a moment, and then stabalised.
Jason or Josh shook his head, looking around. Tears were already welling in his eyes, but Ty didn't care. With one crutch in hand, he was hobbling towards the other twin.
There was another skull-splitting shriek as Ty latched onto the second crutch in Jason or Josh's grip. This snapped the other twin from their teary haze, and with a gasp they rushed over to other half's assistance.
It was two against one, and with Ty trying to maintain his hold on his first crutch, the battle was stalemated. 'Oh, my god, you fucking brats!'
He dropped the first crutch, using both hands on the second now. He wrenched that one free with a roar, once again sending the twins tumbling. However, as Ty twisted away, he tripped over the crutch laying at his feet, and lost his grip on the other. Everything was flying for a moment. Ty thumped to the ground, the air rushing out of him, and then there was a horrible shattering sound, as the freed crutch smashed through the laundry window.
The twins squealed again, though this one turned into a wail, which only intensified when Father yelled: 'What in God's name was that?!'
Ty cared little for the monstrous shout, nor the broken window. He picked himself up, then was scooping up his dropped crutch, when Dale Samuels burst through the door.
He took one look at the scene—the crying twins; the crutch lying in the shattered window; and Ty standing amongst it all, uncaring though with only one crutch.
'Tyrese! You little fucking shit. Get over here right now!'
Ty rolled his eyes. Damn bastard was drunk, like usual. 'The twins were fucking around with my—'
It sounded more like a whip being cracked than a cheek being slapped, but the strike from his father floored Ty, taking him completely off guard. Tears were stinging his eyes, and his ears were ringing. Bright spots of white cluttered his vision as he tried to get his bearings. It took him a moment to realise his father had been yelling at him. Dale was in such a foul mood, spittle was flinging off his lips and landing on Ty's burning face.
'…you gonna fucking fix it? Do you know how much this shit costs? And who do you thinks paying for your fucking leg?' Dale kicked Ty's leg and Ty screamed, as much in shock as pain. Drunken deadbeat as he was, Dale had never raised a hand to any of the kids as far as Ty knew, not unless it was to spank one of them.
'You brought us out to Texas, made me take time off work, and for what?! Just so we could watch you cripple yourself and turn into a worthless burden all in one damn play!? And you were getting torched all game! After begging me constantly to come watch your shitty little games, THAT'S all you do? It's like you only exist to make our family look like a bunch of lowlife, ghetto jackasses who can't do anything right!'
Dale was fuming. His whole body was heaving with every breath. Ty knew another hit was coming, and covered up as best he could. Dale clasped onto him, yanking him painfully to his feet, dragging him to the door.
At some point, Megan had ventured out to the backyard, though she stood in almost as much as Ty.
'Daddy—'
'Shut it!'
Dale hauled Ty into the laundry room. 'Now you're going to clean up all this fucking glass. Every single fucking piece. I don't give a shit if you have to pick them up by hand! Don't you dare come out until its ALL gone.'
He stormed out, slamming the door so hard Ty felt the shockwave breeze over his body. He was shuddering, left in the dark as Dale's stomps faded away down the hall. One of the twins, maybe both of them, were sobbing, and after a moment, Meg stepped carefully into the room.
'I can he—'
'Leave me alone!' Ty yelled, lashing out at the first bit of vulnerability he saw from someone other than himself.
Tears were welling up in her eyes, and she took one last look at him, like a puppy being told to "git!" then left the room.
Ty stood there, panting hard. His face felt as if he'd been hit by a fastball right on the jaw, and his knee still wanted to be more painful than that. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to come to grips with what had just happened… he didn't, really, not even after ten minutes. Ten minutes where he'd done nothing but stand there, staring at the broken window.
He didn't pick up any glass that night, nor did he retrieve either of his crutches from where they lay, one hanging half out the broken window, the other strewn across the backyard. Instead, he slipped out the back door without making a sound, circled around to his bike, picked it up, hopped on it, and ran away.
It was an awkward, wobbly ride with his unbalanced rhythm, but he was still moving, and it'd be good enough to get him where he was going.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was going, just that he was getting away. Then he realised his legs were already taking him to the one place he felt like he could go at that time; the one place he would be welcomed.
It wasn't Coach Long's home—he'd be a burden, and had already asked too much of the man; Thaddeus Long already had a family to worry about.
No, the only place for Tyrese Samuels was with Luke Hoang.