The game continued as a dogfight with neither side giving an inch. The Dons maintained their slim control. But as the two-minute warning came and went for the first half, nobody scored.

The Vikings sulked off to their locker room, snarls and grimaces marring their expressions.

The Dons marched off the field, heads held high. Steam wavered from them as they glanced at the scoreboard before entering the tunnel. A 13–7 lead was small, and could be gone in an instant, but it was a source of pride for them all.

They could beat the Vikings. They WERE beating the Vikings. Even so, they weren’t perfect and Coach Long still saw issues.

‘You’re all doing great. You’ve earned that lead, and we need to hold onto it in the second half. We can’t let them take it.’

The boys were quiet. Their focus unbroken as they sat before their lockers. Even Deshaun and Stephen said nothing.

Coach Long moved over to Cole and Benny. He placed a hand on their shoulders. ‘I know you boys are trying, and you’ve done well to get us this lead, but I need you. The team needs you to step up if we’re going to win this game.’

‘I will, Coach. We’re not losing this game,’ Cole said. Benny nodded.

Coach Long smiled. ‘It’s not just you. The whole offence needs to keep pushing. We’ve let them dominate the middle, and we can’t even run to the outside with those Linebackers roaming. Stephen’s drawing some more attention in the passing game now. That’s why you two will have more responsibility in the second half.’

He patted their shoulders, then moved away. Benny and Cole looked at one another, then bumped fists. They were locked in. They wouldn’t be the reason the Dons lost.

Coach Hoang had little to say about the defence. ‘Banks, watch that guy closely. Be careful if he catches on and mixes things up.’

‘He’s too dumb for that,’ Deshaun said, ‘…but I gotchu.’

Coach Hoang nodded, then turned to Ty. ‘You’ve been dominating your match-up. Can you keep it up, Samuels?’

Ty scoffed. ‘He’s not catching shit.’

Coach Hoang’s focused lingered on Ty. ‘He’s gonna come at you harder, stronger, and faster than he ever has. Be prepared.’

“I am,” Ty thought, but kept his mouth shut.

Coach Hoang turned to the group. ‘Be conscious of them running, but don’t worry about it. Their run game only exists to amplify their passing. If they resort to beating us on the ground, we’ve already won.’

Bella approached Ty, standing by his side. Whilst everyone was concentrating and still had a determined look, Ty’s—usually the most arrogant and assured—had a sour tinge.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Huh? Of course it is.’ He frowned at her.

‘You’ll keep beating Eighty-Seven, right?’

‘You don’t even have to ask.’ His frown turned into a cocky sneer. But she saw, when he looked away, his expression dropped back into one of focus.

She was glad he wasn’t taking things easy, but worried about what was going through his mind. Something was troubling him.

That something was trying to predict the adjustments Marshall would make.

“He’s up to something. He’ll do something different when they come out of the drive. … but what? Egh, it doesn’t matter what he tries, I’ll still shut him down. I’ll prove I’m the best right here.”

‘Bring it in, Dons.’ Coach Long stood in the middle of the room, one fist raised high.

The Dons got up from their spots, and moved over to swarm around Coach Long, their fists joining him.

‘You know the drill,’ he said. ‘Just know I’m proud of you all, always will be. Three, two, one—’

‘FAMILY!’

Over with the Vikings, they’d liked the adjustments the defence had made to finish the half. The message was to keep squeezing and choke them out in the second half.

Their one concern, defensively, was Myles. They worried if he could control himself for the rest of the game. Already he’d played his most snaps in one game ever.

Myles had laughed, grinning as he assuaged their worries. He’d said it was too much fun playing with them, and he promised to finish the game.

Regarding his actual play, they had no pointers. He’d been playing exactly how they wanted. His attitude was the only concern they had with the defence, otherwise, they were happy.

Offensively, it was a different story. The focus was on Marshall, and how he needed to elevate if they were going to win. If he really saw himself as the best Wide Receiver in the state, he had to overcome the tiny freshman guarding him.

It was now or never. They were both in the same class, and if he couldn’t beat Ty now, he never would.

Conversely, they ignored Isiah. Isiah sat alone in a corner of the room, left to stew in his own thoughts while the coaches fussed over Marshall.

Isiah glared around the room, tense enough that he might explode into a rage if someone dared meet his gaze.

He sat brooding and worked himself into a silent rage. Stephen caught stray shots of his anger, but the focus on his stormy mind was none other than Deshaun.

Before the Vikings left their locker room, Marshall promised they’d win. He had Ty figured out, and knew just how to beat the midget, as he referred to him.

Time would tell if he was just talking big, or if he really had found the key to beating Ty.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Marshall wouldn’t have to wait long to put his hypothesis to the test, as the Vikings started the second half with the ball.

Both teams took the field. The crowd's cheers battled each other like two waves crashing into one another. It was back to equal footing. The Dons’ side cheered with confidence of their victory based on their lead. Whilst their desire amplified the voices of the Vikings’ supporters, who hoped for a comeback.

Marshall let the kickoff bounce out of the end-zone, content with beating the Dons—and Ty—through actual plays rather than a kick return.

The first meeting of the Dons’ defence and the Vikings’ offence in the second half was the tensest yet. Nathan’s eyes darted around the field. He spotted Donte and shouted for extra focus to be put on him from the O-Line. Then he looked wider, first at Isiah, and then Marshall, regarding them both with a scowl. He couldn’t do shit if his Receivers couldn’t get open.

Deshaun approached Isiah, standing close as he clapped in his face. ‘The little doggy didn’t run off like a bitch,’ Deshaun said. ‘You grow some balls? Or you just stupid?’

‘Shut the fuck up. You gon kill yourself after I embarrass you. Yo ass ‘bout to go viral.’

‘You talkin’ mad shit for someone that’s never gonna be nothing after this game.’

‘That’s you, nigga. You ain’t shit now, and you ain’t never gon be shit. Just a victim.’

The two scowled at one another, the hatred palpable between them.

Marshall and Ty were quieter, but the tension was just as intense. It was Marshall who broke the silence.

‘I’m gonna show you the differences between us,’ he said. ‘You ain’t on my level.’

‘That’s right. I’m not. I’m so far above you, you can’t even see my level.’

‘You ain’t special. You’re just a no name li’l bitch. Playing for a shitty, worthless school.’

Ty growled. ‘I AM special. You’re not. You’re just like every other Receiver I’ve faced. Arrogant, naive. You think you have the world in the palm of your hand. You can’t feel it slipping through your fingers. You’re not special. You’re just another name for me to destroy. Another stepping stone on my path to the top.’

Marshall’s glare darkened as he listened to Ty drone on. ‘I’m the baddest motherfucker you’ll ever face. You ain’t gonna win shit while I exist.’

After what felt like an eternity of anticipation, the ball was snapped, and the first play of the second half began.

Isiah shimmied, then tried to squeeze by the inside, but Deshaun was on top of him and practically had him in a chokehold. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Marshall slipped away from Ty’s attempted press, one long arm glancing across his shoulder pad as he ducked inside. Ty jumped in front of him to cut off the slant, then Marshall cut to the outside.

It was sharp and explosive, and put Ty on the back foot. He couldn’t recover to get in front of Marshall, and the Vikings exploited that opening.

Nathan threw the ball towards the sideline as Marshall faded that way. Marshall jumped without turning and caught the ball. He dragged his feet as he landed, then Ty shoved him out.

The reception was good for 8 yards, and it was Marshall’s first of the game. He stared Ty down before passing him.

Ty shook it off. It was just one catch. A fluke. Marshall had caught him slipping right at the start of the second half. It wouldn’t happen again.

The Vikings picked up the first down with a run that resulted in 4 yards. Isiah and Deshaun’s shoving match continued after the whistle and only ended after intervention from an official.

The Dons would live with the Vikings running, just as Coach Hoang had said. Even after the first down, they still focused on stopping the Vikings’ passes, and hadn’t dropped lower to combat the run.

Even after a second consecutive run, again for 4 yards, the Dons held strong. The Vikings tried a third consecutive run, but the Dons stopped them after only 2 yards. As the running back hit the hole up the middle, a D-lineman grabbed his arm and held him until reinforcements arrived.

On third down, the Vikings returned to the air. Isiah burst forward, and without any fancy footwork, he cut to the outside, giving Deshaun another push that he would complain about fruitlessly.

Even though Deshaun had found a small opening, Nathan wasn’t looking his way. His focus was solely on Marshall.

Marshall pushed through Ty’s press, overpowering it. Ty rushed back, keeping up with Marshall’s sprint. They raced past the first down marker, Ty still running backwards.

Just as Ty thought of shifting his hips and turning to a sprint, Marshall made his move, cutting towards the middle.

A fraction of a second slower than he wanted, Ty jumped forward, over-committing in his attempt to make up for the “slow” reaction.

Only after Ty had committed to stopping the inside Cross, did Marshall whirl back around and switch the route into an Out instead.

The rapid switch left Ty clawing at Marshall’s shirt. Marshall’s shirt stretched out obviously, and a flag flew. But Marshall didn’t stop. He extended as the pass came in, and got one set of fingers to it, reeling it in as he dragged his feet and stumbled out.

The catch was successful, so the Vikings declined the DPI penalty. Marshall turned to face Ty again, this time dropping the ball before his feet, then pointing towards the end-zone.

Anger flared inside Ty as he stared at Marshall’s irritating smirk. He stormed off to the Dons’ huddle. Zayden looked at him with concern, but Deshaun’s eyes never left the ground. He was breathing hard.

Ty wasn’t dumb enough to still think Marshall was just getting lucky. He HAD figured something out. Ty was the one who had to rack his brain now and find a way to stop this drive before it got out of control.

The Vikings continued pushing closer to the end-zone, thanks to Marshall. They mixed in some runs, but they weren’t overly successful, nor did the Dons care much about them, no matter how many times they picked up a first down from a short yardage situation.

Deshaun kept Isiah in check, though both boys were growing more aggressive in their antics, not only after the whistle, but during the play as well. Once, Deshaun got called for a holding penalty when he tried to stop Isiah pushing off.

Explaining his case, and why he HAD to hold, didn’t garner any sympathy from the officials. Though, on a play not long after that, Isiah was called for OPI. His shoving during the routes ended after that.

He never caught a pass, and Deshaun wasn’t penalised again during that drive.

But the problem was Marshall. Whenever the Vikings were in a hole, or needed a first down, he was there, and he’d get open.

Ty struggled to contain him, struggled to come up with a plan on how to stop him. The strategy he’d been using throughout the first half had been neutralised.

Even if he waited out the feint and didn’t over-commit to one side of the field, he couldn’t stop Marshall. Because they weren’t just feints, they were an actual route.

If Marshall cut to the inside, and Ty didn’t instantly jump in to cut him off, but waited for him to reverse and go to the outside, well, that outside reversal never came. Marshall would continue on his first route, and Ty couldn’t stop the inevitable pass that came. Even if he got close, it’d just turn into one of those bullshit dives and fingertip catches that had pissed him off so badly in the first game.

With this, the Vikings were soon at the goal-line, just a few yards away from a touchdown and tying the game, before potentially taking the lead with the following extra point.

Ty panted. He could still make his stand. The entire team could. Even if there was only an inch to go before the end-zone, they could still stop the Vikings and at least hold them to a field goal.

“Or I could get an interception. How deflating. You come all this way, work so hard to get close enough to sniff the end-zone, only to get stopped right at the goal-line. They might just give up if I take it back for a pick-six too.”

He grinned up at Marshall.

Marshall hated that grin. It was disrespectful and downright creepy. It was too much like Myles’s grin. A sadistic grin that only existed because the person behind it was thinking about someone else’s misery. At least with Myles, that misery didn’t belong to HIM.

He wanted to kick Ty’s teeth down his throat and put an end to that grin forever. But he couldn’t. He settled for putting that freak in his place instead.

The ball was snapped. Marshall and Ty shoved each other back. Ty held his ground, and Marshall darted inside on a Slant.

Ty hesitated, unsure if he should jump in front or trail along Marshall’s hip. That hesitation was only a split second, but it cost him.

Nathan ripped the ball towards Marshall, who put his body between the pass and Ty. Ty lunged, diving as he reached around Marshall and snagged his arm just as the ball arrived.

Ty tried to rip Marshall’s arm off and pull the ball free, and whilst he dislodged one hand from the ball, Marshall’s other hand clenched it and raised it above his head as he and Ty tumbled to the ground.

Marshall popped up to his feet as the officials signalled touchdown. The Vikings fans, who had waited so long, finally had something more to cheer about.

Marshall glared down at Ty, who still lay prone on the painted grass of the end-zone, spun the ball on its top right beside him, then stepped over him to join his teammates in celebration.

One of Ty’s eyes twitched as he stared up at the night sky. The bright lights shone down on him, highlighting his humiliation.