Fight For Survival

Jackson strode through the school halls. Eddie, Sachin, and Marcus surrounded him, and together the group carved a path through the busy after-bell rush hour.

'He's seriously been making you do nothing but run all week? Bruh, that's messed up,' Sachin said.

'I told you Coach is brutal,' Jackson said.

'Man… I don't think brutal covers it. Even we ain't running that much and we're the ones doing track,' Marcus said.

Jackson laughed. 'At least it's been testing my leg.'

'How is that leg holding up, bro?' Eddie asked.

'Eh, it gets sore after practice, and it hurt that first day, but it's been getting better.'

'Ayy, good shit. You'll be back to kicking ass in no time, bro.'

Jackson smiled. The group made their way out to the practice field. The others needed to check out one of these brutal running sessions in person, and as they didn't have practice themselves that day, it was the perfect opportunity.

As the team warmed-up, Sachin, Eddie, and Marcus sat on the sideline, cracking jokes amongst themselves, though they looked a little bewildered at the vests the JV team—and some from the varsity members—wore.

Today, the JV team was still running, yet to all break through the threshold, though now they were just waiting on the Linemen.

As they lined up at the back of one end-zone, Sachin and Marcus had some advice for everyone. The same advice they'd heard before. 'Hey! Make sure you get those knees up.'

'You gotta push through every step!'

'Come on, where are your stances? What's all this standing around for? Get those hands on the ground, explode off your start!'

They laughed with one another, though fell silent when Coach Knight's stony gaze turned towards them. Eddie snickered as they wilted under the stare, so they turned and punched his arms.

Coach Otsen and Carson were with the varsity team, whilst Coach Vasquez was helping Coach Knight manage the JV's torment.

Jackson took his place on the line, sandwiched between Kenny and Rudy. When Coach Knight's whistle blew, he burst into the lead and never looked back.

He reached the far end of the field, slammed his foot on the line, and twisted around to sprint back the way he came. Most of the others weren't far behind, but the Linemen were trailing Owen, who trailed Freddy.

"Come on," Jackson thought. As good as all this running seemed to be for his leg, even he was getting fed up with it.

He dashed back and finished strong. He wheeled around, panting hard as he watched the others race towards the finish line. His friends along the sideline cheered loudly.

Rudy was right behind Jackson, neck and neck with Kenny. Lonnie and Isaac weren't far behind, then Pete, then Freddy. Owen and the Linemen rumbled towards the finish, and even Jackson started cheering. So did the rest of the JV Titans—all bar Rudy—even those who were yet to catch their breath.

Vincent threw himself across the finish line and soon after fell onto his face. He rolled onto his back, his great belly heaving with every ragged breath.

The others looked expectantly at Coach Knight, who stared down at his stopwatch. He looked at the boys, his face as expressionless as ever … then the stone cracked into a smile. He turned the stopwatch around. Vincent had made it with less than a second to spare.

'YEAAAAH!' The team cheered almost as hard as they did whenever they won a game. Coach Knight kept his smile as he walked away towards Coach Otsen.

Coach Vasquez bolted down the field, whooping as he joined in the celebrations. 'That was MAXIMUM amazing!'

As the celebrating and cheering died down, Coach Knight beckoned the team over to join with the varsity players who were taking a quick break.

Coach Vasquez followed the JV team over, talking about maximum speed and maximum coolness and other maximum nonsense. Coach Otsen greeted the boys with a simple smile and nod, though both contained maximum respect, as Coach Vasquez would put it.

'We've got a little something special today,' Coach Otsen said, addressing both teams. 'Seeing as some members of the JV squad think they're more than good enough for a spot on the varsity roster, we're going to test that today. They'll be joining you in your drills today.' He looked at the JV team, his smile taking a more sinister edge. 'Try to keep up, boys.'

A buzz of mostly excitement mixed with some trepidation arose from the JV squad, whilst on the varsity side there was mainly indifference interspersed with sounds of annoyance.

Freddy's hand shot into the air. Coach Otsen looked at it and sighed. 'Yes, Frederick?'

All eyes turned to him as the JV group parted to reveal him. Under all that pressure, he almost forgot his question. '… W-We usually play both sides, and train both sides … what do we do today? Should we train offence or defence?'

'Good question, Freddy, but the only one who knows the answer to that is YOU.'

'Me?' This burden horrified Freddy.

'ALL of you.' Coach Otsen gestured to the JV team. 'It's up to you to decide which you prefer. Whatever position feels more natural to you, that's the one you should train today.'

Freddy was somewhat relieved, though now a new quandary troubled him. No part of football felt "natural" to someone like him.

Another hand filled the air after Freddy's question had been answered. 'Yes, Vincent?' Coach Otsen asked in a gruffer tone.

'If we're joining the varsity practice, can we take off the vests?'

'HAHAHAHA … no. Everyone back to work!' Coach Otsen's whistle killed any further questions before they could be raised.

As the varsity team split off into groups, JV members joined them.

Pete followed Wesley and the other QBs, earning a dirty look from Wesley himself.

Isaac jogged over to Mickey's side, where he received a much warmer welcome with the RBs.

Freddy watched Lonnie trudge over to join the DBs, whilst Jackson, Kenny, and Rudy rushed to the group of Receivers. Freddy was stuck in the middle, but eventually turned and slunk over to Lonnie's side.

With the Receivers, Shane welcomed the three JV players with open arms, fist-bumping each of them. He wished Jackson and Kenny good luck, then came Rudy. 'Good to have you back, Rudy.'

Rudy muttered his thanks. Grant scoffed. 'Yeah, so nice to have you worming your way back into the team. Not like it's gonna happen, not for ANY of you, so don't get used to this. You'll be back over to your shitty kiddy training tomorrow.'

'I'm not taking that shit from somebody who can't even handle wearing a little vest,' Kenny said.

Grant's lip curled up. He turned to Kenny, poking him in the shoulder, pushing on the strap of his vest. 'You think this is helping you? All it's doing is holding you back. You might be the only dumbass on your team who isn't fiending to dump this useless shit.'

'You sound scared, Grant,' Rudy said.

'Huh? Scared? The fuck am I scared about? YOU? You ain't scaring shit.'

'I mean, yeah, YOU shouldn't be scared. It's not really your spot I'm coming from … but your boys.' Rudy pointed out Daniel and then Demetrius, smiling. 'They should be scared. There's only so many spots in varsity, and they can't hide behind you forever.'

Shane stepped in, a hand on Rudy's shoulder, a disarming smile on his face. 'I'm glad there's so much competition between you all. I'm sure it'll make you all work that much harder. But why don't we let our game do the talking now, okay? You can see just who deserves a spot during our drills.' Shane patted Rudy's shoulder, then walked away. His tone of voice left no room for argument.

The others fell in line, though Grant got the last word in. 'Don't act like you're wearing the vest by choice, Rudy. You've got no one to blame but yourself for getting dropped.'

As the groups fully formed, Owen was the only Linemen who went with the varsity team's OL, whilst Vincent and the rest of the Linemen joined the DL.

The training was tough; the drills weren't much harder than what the JV players were used to, just more focused and honed in on individual aspects of each position's key attributes. But it was the speed and intensity with which the biggest differences appeared.

It was especially difficult to keep up whilst a lot of the varsity players they were following were vestless.

Over with Jackson, Rudy, and Kenny, they felt this too. Keeping up with Grant and his goons would've been a challenge on a level playing field, but was downright impossible whilst they were bogged down with the extra weight from the vests, and Grant and the others were free as birds.

The first drill they came to was all about their releases and how fast they could get off the line and beat a DB's press.

They were lined up in front of a large inflatable dummy, not much more than a massive cone that was weighted at the bottom to allow it to sway and bend, but always stay upright and come back to its standing position.

Coach Vasquez was on the other side of the dummy, several yards away. When one boy was in position, he'd call out the instructions. Shane was up first.

'Speed!'

Shane burst out of his stance, dipping his shoulder as he went left around the dummy to what would be the outside in a proper game. He passed by as close as possible without actually touching the dummy and continued forward until he passed Coach Vasquez, then stopped.

'MAXIMUM perfection. Just like that everyone. Maximum dip your shoulder and get past without touching the dummy.'

Grant followed, passing through cleanly as well. So did everyone, though Kenny and Jackson went slower than the others, judging the distance more closely and getting a feel for how much they had to dip to avoid the dummy.

After Jackson, it was back to Shane. Coach Vasquez called out: 'Stick!'

Shane burst forward again, though this time he angled towards the inside. He slammed his front foot down and, with another burst, pushed back to the outside.

Again, the line went through the drill one after the other. Even after Jackson and Kenny pushed through with greater confidence and speed, Coach Vasquez still urged them to go even faster.

'Remember, MAXIMUM speed!'

The drill progressed from single stick to a double that sent you inside after feinting both ways, and even a triple to the outside again.

It was on the triple that Rudy brushed against the dummy. Coach Vasquez's whistle split the air with a shrill screech. 'Maximum effort! Go do a lap with maximum quickness, Rudy!'

Kenny and Jackson watched Rudy hang his head, then speed after to the sideline where he began a lap of the field.

They ended up following him, both of them scraping the dummy as well.

The drill continued, and it took Kenny and Jackson another two tries before they pulled off the triple without touching the dummy, which meant one more punishment lap for them both. By the time they moved on, they were sweating and panting profusely.

Grant and his jackals took great pleasure in watching them run around. Meanwhile, they were unburdened, and had barely broken a sweat.

The next drill came. This time the Receivers had to sprint up to a cone 5 yards away, then cut outside before making a toe-tap catch along the sideline.

Any drop, or catch made with a foot out of bounds or on the line, meant more laps. Already, Kenny and Jackson were slowing compared to the others, Rudy as well, though not as much.

Rudy needed another punishment lap, but even Demetrius stumbled and failed to catch a pass in bounds and had to run his own lap. Kenny needed two, and Jackson three when he dragged his leg and a shot of pain caused him to drop one pass. Grant never ran a lap.

However, Shane was powering through, still ahead of Grant and the rest of the varsity members, even with a vest. No one's cuts were crisper or faster, no one's deceleration was as smooth, and no one's catches as clean as his, vest be damned.

That was Jackson's motivation. Shane proved it could be done, and following that broad back helped him persevere and finish practice with his head held high.

He was exhausted by the end—all the JV members were, but they'd survived. Still, Jackson didn't like any of their cases for a spot on the varsity team. He wasn't sure how it'd went for the others, but even Rudy couldn't keep up with the varsity players in their group.

That didn't stop Kenny from approaching Coach Otsen after practice ended. Rudy was nearby, watching. Jackson dragged himself over to support Kenny, who cleared his throat before saying: 'Coach?'

Coach Otsen turned to him with an amused smile. 'Yes, Ken?'

'Do you think there'll be a spot open on the varsity team this weekend?'

'Trust me, Kenny. You'll know when it's your time.'

'But I'm… WE're ready now.' Kenny looked at Jackson, then saw Rudy too.

Coach Otsen laughed. 'Thinking like that proves the opposite.' He looked at Kenny harshly, then Jackson. His eyes lingered, and Jackson thought his look softened … but Coach Otsen was so hard to read. His gaze finally turned to Rudy, who quickly looked away, acting as if he wasn't listening.

'You boys did good today. I'll see you all at the next practice.' With that, Coach Otsen turned away, once again never outright confirming or denying Kenny's hopes. Either way, Jackson wasn't holding his breath.

Rudy wasn't the only one who'd caught wind of Kenny's proposal. Grant laughed loudly. 'Embarrassing. You still think you deserve a spot after that shit-fest today? You can't even keep up in practice. What makes you think you can keep up in a game?'

'Pretty easy to stay ahead when you don't have to wear a vest,' Rudy said, stepping in for Kenny.

Demetrius and Daniel stepped up behind Grant, the two trios staring one another down. 'Like you did any better when you weren't wearing a vest, bitch.'

'The only bitches I see are you three,' Kenny said.

Neither side backed down. Jackson, feeling a punch was imminent, prepared for the worst. But Grant and his jackals backed down, their eyes averting to a new threat that came in behind Jackson.

Jackson looked back and saw Eddie, Marcus, and Sachin. 'Yo, bro, you got a problem with these guys?' Eddie asked.

Jackson smiled and shook his head. 'Nah, I don't think they want a problem anymore.' He dapped his friends up.

'You fit right in with those JV losers, Rudy. I'm happy you found a new home with 'em,' Grant said, he and his goons retreating.

Rudy watched him go, not wasting anymore words on that asshole. Though Sachin and Marcus had plenty left to say. 'Fuck off, asshole!'

'Go blow each other, ya pussies!'

Kenny turned to Rudy. 'Thanks for having my back.'

'Yeah, don't mention it.' Rudy looked at the offered fist, then bumped his own against it. 'Still plenty of time to earn that spot. One of us is bound to get it sooner or later.'

'Soon,' Kenny said, grinning. 'And it'll be all three of us. Just you watch.'