‘Immanuel Maclin,’ the Cobra said.

  ‘Jay Beechworth.’

  Jay sighed at the hint of recognition in the boy’s eyes. ‘Let’s have a great game,’ Immanuel said.

  ‘Don’t hit me too hard,’ Jay said. A half-grin gave his words the tinge of a joke, merely to hide the fact he meant them.

  ‘Hahaha, I’ll try not to, and I’ll give the message to my brother, Jeremy, too. He’d have loved to meet you, but he drew the short straw this time.’

  Great. Just what Jay needed. A pair of lunatic brothers trying to rip his head off.

  Richaun stepped up to Deshaun, looking past his shoulder. ‘That little bitch too scared to face me?’

  ‘He ain’t need to waste time on shitty Receivers like you.’

  Richaun’s blue eyes were ice as they pierced Deshaun’s soul. ‘You’re number two on your own fuckin’ team. I ain’t hearin’ shit from a worthless-ass nobody like you.’

  JJ’s hand on Deshaun’s shoulder deescalated the situation. He met Richaun, a disapproving look on his otherwise blank face. Richaun studied him for a moment, sneering at him before turning away. He had nothing to say to a meathead like JJ.

  Colby took Richaun’s place, offering a hand to JJ. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Julian.’

  JJ had seen enough fake smiles to recognise that’s all Colby knew. Still, he gladly shook hands with the slippery snake, smiling back at him, sincerely. ‘Let’s have a great, clean game today.’

  ‘Of course, I’ve been looking forward to this.’ He had, truly. The Dons’ defence were ranked highly; a dominant victory against them would look great on his already impressive resume. ‘I’d hate for it to be ruined by a fight.’ Again he spoke truth. There was nothing worse than Richaun stealing the limelight with his bullshit antics. Of course, losing didn’t fit into that equation because to Colby it wasn’t even a possibility.

  ‘Let’s act like gentlemen today, boys,’ the head official said, stepping forward. ‘South Miami, it’s your call.’

  ‘Tails,’ Colby said, still smiling at JJ.

  The coin flipped through the air; only the officials watched it land in the grass.

  ‘Tails. South Miami, what would you like to do?’

  ‘We’ll defer,’ Colby said quickly, before Richaun could butt in and say they’d receive.

  ‘We’ll go that way,’ JJ said, pointing to the end they’d been warming up on. It mattered little in the dome anyway.

  Without further ceremony, both sets of captains went their separate ways as the head official announced the results of the coin toss.

  Returning to the bench, Deshaun sat beside Ty, who raised a brow. Deshaun smothered his anger enough to speak calmly. ‘Their shitty Receiver, yeah? You better lock his ass up. I need you to embarrass him, Freshy.’

  Ty bit back his retort. He didn’t need Deshaun to tell him about the job he already knew was his, especially when Deshaun should be focusing on his own task … but anger and annoyance were evident on Deshaun’s face—more than usual—and Ty wasn’t the source of it for once.

  Ty glanced across the field as the teams prepared for the kickoff. The Cobras were relaxed; Richaun looked as if he didn’t have a single care in the world.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll ruin him,’ Ty said. ‘Promise.’

  ‘Good shit, Freshy.’ The two bumped fists, and watched as the kickoff got the game underway.

  Chris had no chance of a run-back as the ball was booted out the back of the end-zone, but at least that put the Dons at a better start than the previous game’s opening kickoff had; the Cobras didn’t have bullshit luck as the Tigers had.

  There was a swell of cheers as the Dons’ offence, and the Cobras’ defence met on the field. Ty didn’t hear a hint of boos underneath either side … he didn’t even hear warring sides. The crowd didn’t have a favourite, yet. They were just cheering in the hopes of getting a good, competitive game out of two of the best sides in the country.

  The Cobras’ defence made a fearsome visage upon the field. Jay was seeing double snake-eyes at the ends of the Cobras’ D-Line. Immanuel Maclin stood ready to skewer him at one end, despite whatever niceties they might’ve exchanged before the game—that was just the murderous aura he exuded—and it must’ve been Jeremy at the other. They both had killer, sharp, yellow eyes in the shadows of their helmets.

  It didn’t get much better when you looked further out. The Secondary stood with utmost composure. They looked as if nothing would faze them. After all, they’d been honed by the double-sided hammering of training against Colby Jenkins throwing to someone like Richaun Howard day in day out for years.

  Facing all that, whether the fans were behind them or not, the Dons struggled on their first drive. Maybe it was fortunate Chris hadn’t got to run the ball out during the kickoff if his first rush of the day was anything to go by; it went nowhere.

  Passing wasn’t much better. Even then Chris was still covered when he leaked out of the backfield. Stephen was swarmed, and despite the numerous bodies on him, the Cobras were quick enough to make up the difference and keep both Amon and Cole in front of them. Even Benny couldn’t find an opening big enough to squeeze into.

  Not like any of the Receivers had much time to get open in the first place. The Maclin brothers were quick off the edge, and their pincer attack left Jay with little room to operate. He had to make quick decisions, and most of them led to throwing the ball away.

  It wasn’t long at all, barely even a minute into the game, before the Dons had to punt; they’d gone three-and-out.

  The ball was hammered to the Cobras’ 20-yard line, but then returned back to the 30 by a lengthy DB wearing number 22. And then it was time for the main event, as both Ty and Richaun came out to play.

  The boos rained down in full force as those two entered. Ty was content running on second in the formation, just behind JJ, but Richaun and Colby were racing each other to the middle of the field.

  When Richaun’s eyes settled on Ty, he lost interest in Colby. A grin spread across his face as he stomped over to Ty. ‘Finally found your balls?’

  Ty took a breath, it was hard to appear disinterested, but he already had an idea of how best to antagonise Richaun. He looked down at the number splayed across Richaun’s chest—#1—and smirked. ‘Uh, I think you got the wrong jersey. Shouldn’t that say number two?’

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  Richaun barked with laughter, shoving Ty away. Ty stumbled, almost falling, his eyes wide. ‘Stop talkin’, pussy-ass nigga. Let’s see you earn that fake-ass ratin’.’

  Ty’s eyes narrowed into a glare. He got up in Richaun’s face, as close as he could without going offside. All eyes watched the pair closely—the crowd couldn’t agree on who they’d prefer to see lose; the officials watched, fingers hovering over their flags like cowboys in a stand-off; those on the sidelines watched, knowing it was one of, if not THE, most important duel in the entire game. Only those who had a different job to do couldn’t spare to watch the pair.

  The ball was snapped, and an explosion of movement followed. One of Richaun’s hands snapped towards Ty’s neck, whilst a spear flashed at Richaun’s heart; both blows landed, the boys trading with one another. It was a slow, but equal start. Richaun liked it. He used his head as a battering ram, pushing through Ty.

  8 yards deep, Richaun cut inside, swiping at Ty, dragging his arms down. Ty turned with him, undercutting him, running side by side, and Richaun cut back up, heavy feet leaving his mark on the turf.

  The ball was already on its way; Colby had lobbed it over before Richaun had even cut into the space, trusting—knowing—his Receiver would get open. The soft, graceful pass arced through the air, placed perfectly so Richaun wouldn’t have to adjust his stride. It’d float right over his shoulder, and into his hands, then it’d be a foot-race to the end-zone.

  Ty dove, one arm outstretched over Richaun’s shoulder, fingers blocked the cup Richaun’s hands had made. The ball bounced off Ty’s fingers and fell to the turf as Ty dragged Richaun to the ground.

  An early challenge had been raised, and Ty had answered without hesitation. The crowd was stunned, halfhearted cheers and boos trickled onto the field.

  Ty stood, dusting himself off. Richaun rocketed to his feet, staring daggers down at Ty, who responded with an ice-cold smile. ‘Can you see the gap between one and two, yet?’

  ‘Fuck off me, nigga.’ Richaun shoved him again. Better prepared for it, Ty was only forced back a step, but the nearest officials rushed over to get in between the boys, ushering them back to their respective huddles. Before he’d even arrived, Richaun was already complaining to Colby about his pass, demanding he throw it deeper out of Ty’s reach.

  Colby could’ve told Richaun any further and NO-ONE would’ve touched it let alone caught it, but that was a pointless endeavour. He stared across the field, watching the Dons’ huddle, thinking about how good it’d look for him to take down the number one CB with his greatest weapon being a second-rate Receiver like Richaun.

  Both teams lined up again; Richaun was mumbling to himself before Ty even came into earshot.

  ‘… Ball deep. If this nigga spent more time practisin’ his throws instead of his fuckin’ interviews … overrated-ass nigga.’

  ‘The problem isn’t the QB,’ Ty said, whisper-soft.

  ‘SHUT YOUR BUM-ASS UP!’

  At the snap, Ty expected another snake-bite, and leant back, thrusting his spear out again. Richaun barely missed his mark, but Ty’s spear was right on the money. Colby shook his head, already looking away as Richaun stumbled out of the gates.

  Deshaun followed his Receiver closely—the Dons started with man-defence to keep a close eye on any outside runs or screens—and stayed on top of him as he cut to the outside. The ball closing in on them surprised him, not just with the audacity to throw into such tight coverage, but how fast the ball was upon them. It landed right in the Receiver’s hands, and he twisted upfield, stretching towards the first-down marker. Deshaun shoved him out, just short of it.

  The Receiver rolled to his feet, flipping the ball towards the nearest official before jogging back towards the Cobras’ huddle which was already forming. Deshaun watched him go.

  The boy wearing number thirteen was named Lamar Worthy, and he would’ve been the number one Receiver on almost any other team in the country. Maybe there were only three—four including the Dons, Deshaun had to vouch for his boy—teams where he’d be the second option. It just so happened that South Miami were one of those teams.

  He was lengthy, diligent, smooth, and had great fundamentals; a team didn’t get as good as the Cobras without a good foundation. Deshaun knew he was going to have a hard time covering the boy … but he’d thought he’d done just that. He couldn’t think of how he could’ve done better on that play, and it’d still resulted in a completion for the Cobras. Covering Lamar Worthy would’ve been a hard ask in any situation, but with Colby Jenkins throwing to him, it might be impossible.

  Deshaun slapped his helmet. Continuing that line of thinking would be the only way guarding Lamar became impossible. He couldn’t let the team down, couldn’t let himself down; he wouldn’t let his scholarship slip through his fingers.

  Neither Ty, nor Deshaun had to worry about covering their assignment on the following play. Though, even with it being a run, Richaun still lashed out at Ty and tried to slip past him, drawing Ty downfield, which was as good as successfully blocking him, in a way.

  The run was a speedy dash up the middle of the field, darting in behind the Line, and finding the first gap to squeeze through before diving across the marker to earn another set of downs. Even if it only earned two yards, that was all the Cobras needed.

  They kept it on the ground to start their next set of downs, much to Richaun’s chagrin, though his teammates had plenty of experience with him and knew to block out his complaints during the huddle.

  Their second run went to the outside, like the Dons expected. And seeing as it was expected, the Dons contained it, keeping the gain to the same as the Cobras had earned up the middle. The result brought a frown to Coach Hoang’s face. 2 yards wasn’t good at all for the Cobras, but he was hoping for negative 2.

  Still, the poor run meant the Cobras were looking to the air on second down, which brought Ty and Richaun together for another real duel.

  At the snap, Richaun lunged out, aiming for Ty’s midsection instead of his throat. He’d also lowered a shoulder, catching Ty’s spear with it. Still leaning back, Ty’s gut was wide open and Richaun’s swift strike knocked the air from his lungs. Immediately, Ty was on the back foot, chasing after Richaun.

  A step to the outside gave Ty pause, but Richaun followed it up with an instant cut upfield. In two thunderous steps, he’d broadened his lead over Ty. Again, the ball was lobbed over. This time, Colby laid out with the pass, stretching deep.

  Richaun had to stretch in response, first quickening his pace, then lunging for the catch. He wasn’t the only one who turned on the afterburners, however. Ty’s hand loomed over Richaun’s shoulder once more, stretching towards the ball. … Except … neither boy reached it.

  It didn’t even brush Ty’s fingertips—though his were the closest—before it fell to the ground. Richaun thudded down next to it, Ty on top of him. He rolled, shoving Ty off, scrambling back to his feet. Officials were already moving to separate the two, but both boys were glaring at the ball instead. When Richaun’s eyes lifted, they found Colby instead of Ty.

  Hushed murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Had the great, infallible Colby Jenkins made an incredibly rare mistake? Maybe the boy was overrated and had never been as good as they said. Did the Cobras even deserve their ranking and the bye that came with it?

  Richaun stormed over to Colby. Colby snatched Richaun’s wrist before Richaun grabbed his jersey. Colby’s eyes were devoid of emotion, in the face of Richaun’s fire.

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ Richaun snarled. ‘I can’t catch it if you overthrow me, retard.’

  ‘You asked me to throw it deeper, I did.’

  ‘No shit! Too fuckin’ deep.’

  ‘I threw it where Tyrese Samuels wouldn’t reach it. If you couldn’t, that means you’re not good enough.’

  ‘You fuckin’ with me, nigga?’

  ‘Listen, dumbass. From where I’m standing, there’s not a blade of grass on this field you can reach before Tyrese Samuels.’

  Richaun yanked his hand free, backing off. His flames were frozen, but his fury burned even more painfully. ‘Just throw me a fuckin’ ball I can catch.’

  Colby scoffed. So be it. He’d feed Richaun’s ego, and shatter it at the same time. After all, Richaun wasn’t the only one who wanted—needed—to beat Ty. It was best to get it out of the way early. There was no pressure, and it meant he could take his time testing Ty’s limits … maybe Richaun would surprise him and prove all that barking wasn’t just that.

  Ty’s grin was as wide as ever when Richaun returned to him. ‘I hope you guys weren’t fighting because of little old me,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t wipe that dumbass look off your face, imma do it for you, nigga.’

  Ty crooked his fingers, egging Richaun on. ‘Try it, bitch.’

  The ball was snapped, and Richaun went for the throat again. Ty backed off a step, watching, and the extra room gave him time to slap Richaun’s thrust aside. The two ran together, Ty back-pedalling as Richaun exploded down the sideline, then snapped inside, swiping across Ty’s face.

  It wasn’t a feint, nor the zig in a Sluggo route. It was a rapid cut, and that it was the only one Richaun made, gave Ty some hesitation, but he quickly caught back up. The pass came in, still not in a vulnerable enough position for Ty to intercept, but it ended up as a rudimentary deflection instead as he dove across Richaun and spiked it into the turf.

  Richaun stumbled back, staring at the ball, refusing to believe what he was seeing. It had to be another shit pass. Colby was off his game—sickness, food poisoning, jet lag, something, ANYTHING rather than admit Ty could be better than him.

  One thing was certain, however. The Cobras had been forced to fourth down, and would have to punt the ball back to the Dons. Ty had taken the first round against Richaun, and it was clean 3–0 sweep.

  M.P.Seipolt