Implode

The momentum was fully behind the Dons—a miasma that covered the field and made the Vikings sluggish, whilst the Dons breezed through as if it was pushing them along.

Marshall found this out the hard way on his kick return. The Dons were in his face much faster than he expected, and even with his best efforts to avoid them, he only brought the ball out to the 21-yard line.

Twenty-one. He felt like he was going crazy. That number was inescapable. It was there when he looked at the scoreboard, and it was there when that little shit Ty came over to gloat. Mocking him. Always mocking him.

He'd bury Ty, the Dons, and that stupid fucking number and win this game. There was still time, but it was running out, and this was going to be the Vikings' last shot. They only needed ANYTHING.

Ty said nothing. He didn't need to. The game, the score, even the crowd said it all for him.

However, Deshaun still had words for Isiah. 'Ain't so cocky now, are ya, bitch?'

'SHUT THE FUCK UP!' A thick line of spittle flung from Isiah's mouth. His chest heaved with every breath.

Deshaun scoffed. 'Fuckin' psycho.'

The Vikings wasted little time before snapping the ball. Running wasn't an option, so both Isiah and Marshall rushed forward. They both cut inside, too.

Isiah with a flat Cross, and Marshall with a shallow Post. The thinking being that the Dons would expect the Vikings to attack the outside to conserve time, so the middle should be more open for them.

Ty hadn't given that any thought. He wasn't giving Marshall any leeway to any side. Marshall would've had a better chance shaking off his shadow.

Deshaun had favoured the outside, sure, but even so he recovered quickly and when the pass came towards him and Isiah, he slapped it away.

A deafening roar shook the field as the Dons got a stop and came one step closer to victory. The pressure only mounted on the Vikings.

Isiah turned to Nathan, pointing at him accusingly. 'Why are you throwing like shit today?!' That HAD to be the reason they were losing. Isiah couldn't accept Deshaun simply beating him. It HAD to be all Nathan's fault.

'Nobody's getting open! I threw it right at you, but if you can't get away from your man, don't fucking blame me!'

Mike got between the two, cutting their argument short. 'We don't have time for this!' he growled. Even with the game clock stopped, the play clock still ran down. The Vikings had to focus on their next play for this comeback to succeed.

The teams lined up again. Again, Marshall and Ty were silent, a staring contest that Marshall lost as he turned his head to Nathan.

Deshaun kept chirping. 'You gettin' locked up for the rest of the game. You been gettin' locked up ALL game.'

'Shutupshutupshutupshutup!'

Deshaun laughed. If he could push Isiah to the point of actually hitting him, the Dons' victory was assured. But Isiah didn't throw a punch, not then at least.

The ball was snapped, Isiah sped past Deshaun, but Zayden was already there.

'You cheating, pussy-ass niggas!' Isiah yelled in frustration as his route was smothered.

Marshall, seeing as Ty wasn't worrying about the sideline, tried to attack it this time. Ty still covered his Out route perfectly, but Nathan threw the ball, anyway. He skied it, however, that was for the best as Ty was waiting for a chance to pick the pass off.

Marshall walked back to the huddle, head lowered. 'Nathan?' He spoke calmly, breath fogging up again. He was so cold, whilst the others were drenched in sweat.

All attention turned to Marshall in the huddle, but Nathan didn't speak.

'If you don't throw a good pass, we're gonna lose. YOU are gonna make us lose against these worthless bitches. If that happens.' Marshall looked at Nathan, his eyes bright within the darkness of his helmet. 'You gonna need a new team next year.'

Marshall left the huddle before anyone could respond. Nathan felt a little of Marshall's coldness. Mike whacked him on the back, almost knocking him off his feet.

'Don't worry about these dumbasses,' Mike said. 'Play your game. We'll win.'

'If you throw to me, we'll fucking win,' Isiah mumbled. He lined up in formation. 'I'll beat both these niggas.'

'You ain't beatin' shit, bitch,' Deshaun said, smirking.

Nathan took the snap and dropped back. His eyes darted across the field. Ty was still blanketing Marshall, and Isiah had run into double coverage again, challenging both Deshaun and Zayden. … But they hadn't tried beating the double team yet.

Nathan knew Marshall wasn't beating Ty, not at the moment, anyway. And while that double-team looked tough, and everything he knew about football screamed at him to avoid it, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He heaved the ball towards Isiah. Zayden was in the perfect position. He leapt up, and just as he got his hands to the ball, Isiah yanked him down. He slammed into the ground, the ball no longer in his grasp.

Deshaun smashed into Isiah, knocking him over Zayden and sending him tumbling away. Officials quickly rushed in, making sure nothing further happened.

Deshaun helped Zayden up. 'You good, Freshy?'

Zayden grunted but nodded. 'Yeah, I'm good. That nigga ain't shit.'

As the two headed back to the Dons' huddle, Deshaun slapped Zayden over the back of his helmet. 'Don't use that word. He a worthless bitch. But we don't use that word.'

'You one of those ni… brothers?'

'Just don't let me catch you using that word again, Freshy.'

In the Vikings' huddle, all eyes were on Nathan. They usually were, but this time they weren't just waiting for his orders as the QB. They were looking at him like he was the enemy.

He stood in the middle of the huddle, silent, shaking. "This shit ain't fair. It's not my fucking fault!"

Nobody said anything, but the glares didn't lessen, even after Nathan relayed the next play. The huddle took a while to dissolve, some players still looking at him for a while longer before they turned away and took their position. Nathan walked to his spot, muttering under his breath.

Even though the Vikings were on fourth down, there had been no question about what they were going to do. They had timeouts, yes. Still, this was their last shot. If the Dons had the lead when they got the ball next, the game was over. So, of course, they went for it.

The spotlight was on Marshall and Ty. Marshall didn't feel so cold anymore, nor was his team THAT far away when he looked at them. The distance was still distorted, longer than it should've been, but they weren't light-years away anymore.

But Ty's presence was still oppressive. It was like a rain cloud that only followed him, like it those old-timey cartoons. Marshall knew that even if he went indoors, that rain would follow him.

If that was the case, all he had to do was make a catch in the rain. He hadn't lost yet, he WOULDN'T lose. Not here, never again.

The ball was snapped, and again he charged forward to meet Ty. He pushed through the press, gritting his teeth against his mouth guard.

Left or right, no matter which way he jabbed or feinted, Ty just wasn't buying it anymore. It was like trying to juke a mirror. But that was fine. If he couldn't beat him with speed or agility, he'd beat him with leaping ability and size.

They raced down the sideline, Ty turning to keep up with Marshall, stuck to his hip.

Nathan lobbed the ball over. It had to be high, he had to keep it away from Ty and somewhere only Marshall could reach it.

Such a place didn't exist. Not anymore.

Both Ty and Marshall leapt, turning back to the ball as they floated through the air. Nathan's pass had gone exactly where he wanted it, just scraping past Ty's fingertips. And for a moment, Ty's heart froze as the ball passed him.

Then it spiked into the ground behind him and Marshall both.

While it had gone over Ty's reach—which is what Nathan was aiming for—it passed Marshall too, who had once again been eclipsed by Ty.

The Vikings' fourth down was a failure as well, and the ball was turned over to the Dons. Knowing a Dons' victory was imminent, the crowd went wild.

The Dons' defence were welcomed back to the bench like heroes returning home from war.

Ty sat on the bench, still locked onto the game. He'd done what he could. Now it was up to the offence. All they had to do was not completely fuck the game by giving up a pick-six or a scoop-and-score on a fumble. Unlikely outcomes, but he wouldn't take his eyes away from the action until the clock finally hit zero.

Try as the Vikings' defence might, they couldn't stop the Dons. Even with the Dons running mostly, they still couldn't stop them. They just always eked out enough yards to keep the drive alive and keep the clock running, even with the Vikings using their timeouts.

The Dons kept control of the game, and though they were right on the goal-line, they never tried to hammer the ball home for another touchdown. Instead, they ran the clock out.

After the final whistle blew, the score still read 21–20. The Dons lived to see another week, another game.

The celebration was huge, the players more ecstatic about the victory than the fans, cheering louder and stomping harder. The Vikings' anguish contrasted their jubilation.

The Vikings were as silent as a funeral, which was fitting, as their season was now dead and buried.

Myles lurched over to Isiah. Isiah slammed his helmet onto the bench and didn't even turn to face Myles fully, just scowled at him. Myles was the only one brave—or deranged—enough to approach him. 'The fuck you want, nigga?'

Myles answered with his fist rather than his mouth, cracking Isiah across the jaw. Isiah fell against the bench, and Myles didn't let up. He pulled Isiah around and got on top of him, rearing back for another punch, even as Isiah ripped Myles's helmet off.

It was pandemonium on the Vikings' sideline, with coaches and players rushing in to break up the fight, their shouting drowned out by the Dons' ongoing celebration.

Someone pulled Myles away before he could land his second punch, and just before Isiah could retaliate by bashing Myles over the head with his own helmet. Someone grabbed Isiah too and wrenched the helmet from his grasp.

The two were pulled away down opposite directions of the sideline. The head coach ordered everyone else to shut up and forget about it. During the chaos, no one noticed as Marshall headed for the locker room early.

Mike was a voice of reason from the Vikings' players and helped the coaches get things back under control. It was he who led the team out to shake hands with the Dons. Even Nathan followed along, although reluctantly.

The missing Vikings didn't escape the Dons' attention, though they didn't ask about them.

After proper etiquette and sportsmanship had been seen to, the Dons' celebration resumed, and they danced to their locker room.

The celebrations didn't stop once they got inside either, only intensified.

Amidst the noise and partying, Deshaun found Ty at his locker. 'Yo, Freshy.'

Ty looked up at him.

Deshaun laughed. 'We won, Freshy. Liven up a bit. No need to look like you're at church or some shit.'

'Did you want something?'

'Man… you always gotta be unbearable, don't you?'

Ty's expression turned to an actual frown rather than his resting bitch face.

'Look, I just came over to say…' Deshaun's shoulders heaved with a sigh. 'You played good, Freshy. Couldn't have done it without you today.'

Ty was silent for a moment, though just as Deshaun was about to escape the awkwardness and turn away, he said: 'Thanks. You too. You played good. I… We wouldn't have won without that.'

'That so hard to say, Freshy?' Deshaun ruffled Ty's braids, then walked away, laughing.

A smile flickered across Ty's face before he turned away.

'Alright boys, settle down for a second,' Coach Long said. 'Cut that music off, thank you. You can listen to your young boy and thug later.'

There were a few laughs around the room, but more people groaned and cringed. The room did quiet, however, and all focus went to Coach Long.

'This game is an incredible accomplishment. I want you to realise that. It shows how much you've grown, and how much you can still grow. I couldn't ask for much better. I could give this game ball to many of you.' He held the ball aloft. 'But there's one person who deserves it most.'

There was a bit of chatter as speculation arose. Ty knew it wouldn't be him, even if he deserved it most—which he thought he always did.

Coach Long turned to Deshaun and lowered the ball towards him. 'Deshaun, this belongs to you.'

As Deshaun stood and stepped over to accept his trophy, the cheering started again. He was showered in applause and praise as the room rumbled with stamping feet. He clutched the ball against his chest and kept his head down, hiding the smile that consumed his face.

'We couldn't have won without you, Dee,' Coach Long said.

The boys got up, crowding around Deshaun, jostling him as the celebration resumed in full force.

Coach Hoang moved over to Ty's side, who had stayed at his locker. 'You know, it's great how much everyone's grown. This game's proof of it. The Vikings didn't play worse, if anything they played better, but that's just how far you've all come since last time.'

Ty nodded, but didn't respond.

Coach Hoang looked at him. 'You're responsible for that, Samuels. You led the charge, you've grown the most, and because of that, you pulled everyone along behind you.'

Ty stopped packing and looked at Coach Hoang. Had he really done that? He'd just been focusing on himself. But it made sense that if one player was constantly challenging themselves, then the team would grow around them as well.

'Thanks,' he said, smiling. Though he quickly resumed packing.

'Geez, it's not gonna kill you to celebrate a bit, Samuels. What's the matter? You that salty over not getting the game ball?'

Ty shook his head.

'Then what is it?'

'You know what it is.'

Coach Hoang had an inkling, though he waited for Ty to spell it out for him.

'We're not finished. This was a good test, but if we really have grown, the proof will be next week, when we face the Bears.'

'And what'll happen if we don't end up facing the Bears but some other team that beat them?'

Ty stared at him, dark eyes swimming with fire. 'That won't happen. I know it'll be the Bears. You know it too.'

Coach Hoang sat back, contemplating if fate was real. It certainly felt like it at the moment. But were the Dons fated to overcome their past failures again? Or were they doomed to fall to the Bears yet again? Coach Hoang didn't know. Nor did Ty, as much as he convinced himself that he'd never lose again.

The celebration continued for a while longer, but eventually the Dons made their way back to their team bus. The Vikings hadn't stuck around, and their bus was already missing from the car park.

As Ty trudged along, Bella moved up to his side and nudged him. 'After all that, it doesn't kill you to praise your teammates, huh?'

He looked at her as if he didn't know what she was talking about.

She gestured to Deshaun. 'I saw you two. And I'm glad you idiots got over whatever petty fighting you'd had in the past.'

He scoffed. 'It's not like I'm mean to them or putting them down. And when they actually DO help and play good—like Deshaun did today—I'll happily praise them.'

'Oh my god, you always have to make everything so hard. You're such a dick.' But she was laughing and smiling.

'What? It's true. I'm happy we won, and I'm glad Deshaun helped. We needed him. The offence did their best to make us lose.'

Her smile dropped. 'Ugh.' She rolled her eyes and walked off. Ty blinked, watching her go, wondering why the truth always upset her.

On the bus, he ended up at the front again, with Zayden sitting beside him for another long ride home.

Zayden didn't have a scowl on his face this time. He looked Ty over, then held a fist out to him.

Ty looked at it in confusion for a moment and hesitated before bumping his own fist against Zayden's.

Zayden nodded, the fist bump saying everything he needed to—they'd played well, and he was grateful for the win.

The trip back lasted much longer without the anxiety and anticipation that helped the first speed by, but it was a quiet one as everyone came down from their highs and the exhaustion after the long day and hard battle settled in.

Even Ty's bike ride home from the school was quiet. A peaceful reprieve. He sped along, wanting to tell everyone the great news. When he reached home, he saw the light of the front room slitting through the blinds.

After dumping his bike, he walked in through the front door. The house was quiet, and though this light was on, it seemed to be the only one in the house. Meg sat at the table, slumped over it. Her head rested on an open textbook, others lay strewn about her.

Of course, no one else cared. Just Meg. A smile touched his lips as he quietly approached. He tussled her hair lightly.

At least she'd always be there for him, and maybe that's all that mattered.