Milo was flying hot at Gregory but pulled back as more Fyrons swarmed him. In a matter of minutes, Gregory was in our end zone with the trophy.

"And the game is now tied! 3-3 once again!" the announcer hollered.

Our bench and stadium erupted with cheers and applause. The platform vibrated with all of us players. Unfortunately, the game was stuck at 3-3 for too long. Players on our side couldn't develop plays, and nor could Venomaus. Fortunately, we were able to knock out a couple more Venomaus, but our sloppy play wasn't enough to capitalize. The backup Venomaus players flew with sputtering and jittery movements, and we still couldn't get anything going.

Gregory was on the move again after the Fyrons carved out an opening for him. He flew into the end zone solo and got struck by a poison bolt.

Our bench collectively sighed as Gregory went out of bounds, returning to our platform.

"That's your cue, Rollie! Go on! Get out there already! Just like how we practice, follow the calls from the captains!" Coach Florence yelled.

I got on my dragon bike and flew onto the field.

"And what an exciting rarity we have in our Dragonstryke match today! A first-year student, Rollie Magpie, has taken the field! The backup thief for the Fyrons. One of the rare members of a club of rookie players to play in a match within the first half of the school year!" Mickey said.

It was surreal to hear my biography read aloud to the audience and the players. The Venomaus defenders all noticed me riding in. I wasn't intimidated by them, though. Their dragon bikes tried to buck some of them off like an angry bull. The only person that worried me was Milo. I knew I had to be on the lookout for him at all times.

The other thing I had to watch out for was signals from Laura or Richmond. Whoever was out on the field would let me know when to strike. We had to devise different flight patterns or hand signals discreetly enough to not be noticed by the other team. In practice, Laura or Richmond told me that if I saw them spin their finger around in a quick circle a few times, I could go in for a steal. Or if I saw them flash the eye lights in front of the dragon-like face on the bike.

But Richmond held up a series of fingers. Three, four, and one. We were running a play. Three players would take the front, and I would hang out in the back, trying to sneak in while the Venomaus focused their attention on the three Fyrons up front. We invaded the Venomaus territory, and the violet cloaks honed in on us. Fortunately, they were concerned about the three players leading our pack. My teammates got struck with a few poison bolts from the side, and they yelled as it hit them.

When we ran the play in practice, I could zoom straight ahead if they got struck. It was my chance to go toward the end zone. And that's what I did. I cranked the handlebars back, blew past my three teammates, and entered the end zone like a laser-guided missile. I focused on the trophies standing atop the pedestals and the trophy guardian, who already had her palm outstretched in front of her, charging up a poison bolt.

The guardian sped forward and launched a poison bolt directly at me, but I instinctively yanked the right side of the handlebar, spinning in place to swerve the projectile. I regained control of the bike, straightened out my path, and honed in on the idol, standing no more than 10 yards away from me. Speeding up, my heart raced and rattled as I scooped up the trophy and darted towards the exit. I glanced behind me and saw the guardian shooting out one last poison bolt, but I gripped the handlebars and went as fast as possible out of their end zone.

"My goodness! The new first-year student has already taken a trophy! But will he take it back to the end zone? The Venomaus, Milo, has been a force to be reckoned with today. Will Milo let this steal happen?" the dumb announcer said.

Having the trophy in my hand was one of the most thrilling moments I'd ever experienced. It felt like life or death if I got struck by a poison bolt. Looking behind my left shoulder, I saw a swarm of purple cloaks trying to match my speed. The only person gaining on me was Milo. He outstretched his hand and rifled off a perfectly aimed poison bolt.

Even though I was watching it come at me, it felt like I had no time to dodge it. The poison bolt struck me, and the skin all over my body ignited for one miserable second. It was similar to a fire burn but had a melting feeling. My hand went numb during that horrible second, and I was afraid I'd drop the idol. But fortunately, I felt like my brain knew it was too important. My fingers were wrapped around the trophy, and no one was prying them open.

My teammates came to my rescue with their fire bolts shooting towards Milo. He dodged them and retreated back to his side of the field.

No one else was following me. The audience held their breath as I got hit, but then they thundered with applause, jumped around, and cheered at the top of their lungs. I looked to the right and grinned like a sap. Flying into our end zone and handing the trophy off to our guardian, my whole team came flying towards me, and we all flew in a circle, and they were cheering my name.

It was greater than any touchdown celebration I had ever experienced.

"The game is all tied up now at 3-3, impressive work by the first-time player!"

The party in our endzone ended, and we all broke up. I followed Richmond's lead to see what the next signal would be. We flew in what they called a standard formation, four people in front of the field. I was in the middle, with the rest of my teammates behind me. Richmond threw up another signal with his hand. It made me laugh because it was the rock and roll devil horns gesture, but I was focused and knew what to do.

I flew straight ahead for the next course of action, and two other guys trailed close behind me. Milo came rushing towards us and launched a poison bolt to my left side, but my teammate sped up and took the hit for me.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Classic play design! Well executed too! These Fyrons will be a force to be reckoned with this year. The trio has made it to the Venomaus end zone!" the announcer yelled.

My teammates at my side backed off as I went into the end zone. The trophy guardian flew away from me and the pedestals as if trying to escape a fire. I was confused at first but didn't want to overthink it.

Just grab the trophy and keep her in my sights, I thought.

She took notice of something else, though. I didn't understand, but I didn't question it. I had to grab the trophy and get out ASAP. With a swipe, I had the idol in my hand and pivoted to jolt out of there.

"Megan hits Victor with a poison bolt! But will it be enough time for Rollie to escape?" the announcer yelled.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn't try to pay attention to it. The trophy was in hand, and breaking through the end zone was all that mattered. Before I could get out of there, my whole body burned for a second, and my bike stopped.

"And down goes Rollie! Not a bad plan by the Fyrons, but not enough to fool Megan," the announcer said.

What plan? Why was there another person in the end zone with me? I should've had another two hits left!

I went back to the bench on the platform, unable to think of anything to say for a moment. I looked up at Coach Florence, and she glared at me and waved me over.

Oh great, what did I do? Just when everything seemed to be going so well.

I got off the dragon bike and approached her, and so did my teammate, who flew next to me. His name was Franklin. I barely knew him.

"Explain yourselves! What happened back there? Rollie was in the clear and could have taken a hit if you hadn't come in. Explain."

I shrugged.

"Uh, I could have sworn I saw Rollie wave me in and say my name," Franklin said.

"I'm not sure where you heard that? I was silent the entire time! I had both hands on the handlebars!" I snapped.

"Enough. I don't want to hear another moment of it. It looks like we need to work on our communication skills next practice, and maybe we need to change up some positions to find a place that might better suit you, Franklin," Coach Florence said.

"What? Please! Don't do that! I've worked really hard to get here," Franklin argued. He wasn't angry. He just sounded sad and worried.

But coach Florence had a cold hard stare I hadn't seen yet. I didn't want to keep the conversation going or disappoint Coach further, so I let it go.

Arthur got on his bike near the end of the bench and joined the fray.

"Let's get a substitute! Miller, you're out!" Coach Florence said.

Miller was the other kid to my left who blocked the poison bolt that almost hit me. I noticed that he bumped fists with Arthur as he returned to the bench. Then I remembered that the two of them were friends and both of them were grinning.

My hands balled up into fists, and when I saw Miller land near the end of the bench with his stupid smirk, I marched over to the other end. Miller was sitting with a friend of his. The two of them were chatting and snickering. I went up to them and stood in the middle, scowling at Miller. They were in the middle of laughing at a joke or something dumb, I'm sure, and Miller looked up at me. "Can I help you with something?"

"You called Franklin's name. Why did you sabotage that play?"

Miller feigned confusion, but I could tell he was trying to suppress laughter from the accusation. "What are you talking about?"

"Why would you sabotage your own team? You're lucky I'm not a snitch, and I'm not going to tell anyone, but you screwed me over and the whole team, dude." I shoved his shoulder, and he almost fell off his bike. Miller had to grab the handlebar, jump awkwardly, and balance on one foot.

Miller regained balance and hopped off his bike, and towered over me. He was a few inches taller. "Are you insane? What's your problem, man!" Miller shoved me, and I fell into a teammate who caught me and then gripped me up. I tried to get out of my teammate's grasp, but several others ran over and intervened. They held out their hands, and all said something like, "Hey hey hey hey!" Or, "settle down, everyone!" And "let's not lose our cool."

Then someone said, "We're supposed to be a team!"

"Yeah, tell that to Miller, who sabotaged the play," I said.

Coach Florence came sprinting towards us.

"Whoa, there's a scuffle on the Fyron bench. Perhaps this is another technique the Fyrons are trying to use as a distraction. Unfortunately for them, the commotion will likely result in an unplanned timeout and an infraction."

Half the crowd booed, and coach Florence yelled, "What's the meaning of all of this?" right in my ear.

I took a deep breath. And another.

"Look, we have a game to focus on and still win. Both of you knock it off and go back to your spot. If I see either of you go to each other's side before the end of the match, you're both off the team. I don't even care what this is all about. We'll deal with it later. Now, Rollie, go back to your bike." Coach Florence pointed to the other end of the platform.

I nodded at Coach Florence but glared at Miller. Even though our team recovered fine with Arthur, I was fuming. Watching Arthur, I felt like I could go faster. I could make better turns and decisions in the air that he couldn't do, or if he did make them, it was too late. I had a better field vision than him. I was better than him, and here I sat on the bench, out because of his stupid friend blowing the play.

"And that's the end of the game, folks! The Fyrons win, but not without their fair share of losses on the field. Props to Venomaus for putting up a good fight and keeping it interesting. If the Fyrons can refine their newest talent, Rollie, they'll be a force to be reckoned with in the coming years. Thank you all for coming to another Saturday of Dragonstryke at Attleton!" Mickey said.

My blood was boiling. If I was a thermostat, I would have broken through the top, and red mercury would have sprayed everywhere.

If they refine the newest talent, we would be a force to be reckoned with? I'm already refined. It wasn't me who blew the play last second, I thought.

All of my teammates were clapping, cheering, smiling, and chatting. All of them relished in the victory on the platform. I was the only one frowning.

Coach Florence cleared her throat as she stood in front of us. "I just wanted to tell you all we played a great game today, great execution on many of the plays. A couple of mistakes were made, but we came away with a huge victory that Venomaus could have easily won. Celebrate, and have fun tonight. We only get so many guaranteed matches a year. You've all earned a night to cut loose and have fun, so don't let me keep you. I need to talk to some of you, but this can wait until Monday. Congratulations, everyone! We're undefeated so far!"

They all cheered, but I didn't have the spirit to join in. I was in the back of the crowd, and as everyone joined in with their fists in a circle, they did the Fyron chant, and we all got back on our bikes and went to the field house. Even though we won, the feelings swirling in my head reminded me of a loss in football. As we put our dragon bikes away in the field house, I heard a couple of kids talking behind me.

"So, what was up with that scuffle on the bench earlier? Does anyone know what happened there?" one kid asked.

"I'm not sure, but I think it had something to do with that weird kid, Rollie," another kid said.

I picked up my pace and got out of the fieldhouse as soon as possible. Rushing towards the train depot to go back to campus. Nothing could make me feel better.