Sierra Canyon dominated their Regional championship game on route to victory. To call the game a stomp would've been an understatement.
The starters had only played the opening half, letting the back-ups finish their opponent's off in the final half. Still, the score read 59–10 when—mercifully—the game ended. At half-time it had been 42–0.
This meant that even when the back-ups came in for the second half, they still won their game within a game 17–10.
Yet after such a dominant performance from both Sierra Canyon's A and B teams, there was no celebration in the locker room afterwards. In fact, annoyance was the primary emotion across most faces as the team mulled over their accomplishment—their ninth Regional title in a row.
'How can we leave the team in the hands of such incompetent juniors next year?' a young man wondered aloud. 'How can they score so little against a defence of that level?'
Kieran Valentine had eyes that were much too old for a high school senior. They were more belonging to a tired hermit. A thin black headband held his scraggly brown hair back from his face. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a rigid, proud back, and he was Sierra Canyon's QB and the main captain of their offence.
'You're worried about how much they scored?' another man said. 'Every point they allowed was like a knife through my heart. There's too much work to do. I won't leave behind such a flimsy wall.'
Mason Eubanks's physique resembled a statue, and he held himself like one. Never one to waste movement, at times he seemed more like a rock than carved from one. A defined, square man, with a sharp fade and a flat high-top. He was their MLB, captain of the defence.
A cloud hung over one side of the room where the back-ups crowded, heads down. None seemed as disappointed with their efforts as they were themselves.
Laughter came from the starters' side. The freshest, youngest face in the room contorted into a grin a shark could be proud of; only his teeth were even sharper.
'Lennox. Why do you laugh?' Mason asked.
'I'm laughing 'cause it's too funny that you guys give a shit about what the scrubs playing after us do. What you SHOULD be mad at is that we didn't play more and beat those frauds by one-hundred!'
Lennox Freeman, the star freshman. Already proclaiming himself as the best two-way player in the country. He was a lengthy, defined boy. His angular face was always twisted into some sort of malicious expression. At that time, his hair—styled in short dreads—was pulled back from his black eyes and bunched together at the back of his head.
'Shut up!' another shouted. Their wide nostrils flared as they huffed and stood. He was a great lump of a man.
Lennox rose to his feet as well, laughing again. His eyes gleamed at the potential of violence in his near future. 'Or what, Casper? What are you gunna do?'
The boy in question was another senior, and his name was not Casper—that was just a "friendly" nickname Lennox had given him based on how pale he was and his "big white cue ball of a head", Lennox's words—his real name was Barry Bundy. He had a younger brother named Allen.
The nickname Barry actually appreciated was "The Great White Ape", this one based on appearance as well, though he found the comparison to a massive, strong ape much more complimentary than a ghost with a fat head.
Though Barry was much larger than Lennox, Lennox showed no fear of the clenched fists—like legs of ham—hanging by Barry's sides.
Barry sat back down, relaxing with a breath. 'It's no fun crushing bugs. There's no sport in it. Crushing you would be the same as crushing those "frauds"—no fun at all.' He turned to the others. 'We could've sat out after the first quarter, probably even the entire game and just let the back-ups beat them … it's too boring.'
'Fear not, Barry,' Kieran said. 'With this victory, we've reached the real competition. The State championship should offer us at least one worthy opponent, and better entertainment aside.'
'Fucking finally!' The shortest player on the team jumped up. Surprisingly, he was on the starters side of the room. 'I can't wait for our rematch with Warren. I'll prove I'm the best Half-Back in the state, not some false king who doesn't even have a proper crown.'
'Calm down, Spike. We don't even know if we'll face them again,' Kieran said.
Spike Weedon's shoulders slumped. He was still jittery, bouncing on his toes with the excitement only the thought of revenge could provide. He was slight of build, and too short, even with his spiky blond hair adding a couple of inches. But that gelled up hair revealed swollen cauliflower ears, and his quick twitches betrayed his hidden, springy explosiveness.
'We will face them,' Mason said. 'They'll be our first test. I just hope it's sooner rather than later.'
The players turned their heads, looking towards the corner of the room where their coach sat. Only Lennox didn't look; he showed no excitement for Warren. He grumbled about how they were most likely fraudulent, too.
'They were fun,' Barry said. 'When do we face them again?'
'I bet they weren't "fun",' Lennox said. 'I bet y'all were just shit without me.'
They ignored him, still focusing on their coach. Coach Heenan's long face was hard to read with the light from his tablet reflecting off his thin glasses. He had a comfortable set up, a small table for his after game coffee and a nice, cushioned stool to sit on. One long leg crossed over the other as he sat in silence for a little longer.
He was dressed lavishly in a pinstriped black and grey suit, gator skin shoes, a bulky, gem-encrusted watch, and a chain that dazzled around his neck.
When he removed his glasses, the players were taken aback by the look of mild surprise on his face, his sharp eyebrows raised high above his bright blue eyes.
'Actually,' he said, his voice cool despite the shock, 'you won't be facing Warren. The Warren Bears were defeated yesterday in their Regional final.'
'What?!' Barry shot to his feet. Spike collapsed back against his locker like Coach Heenan had shot him. Even Mason couldn't hide the surprise from his face.
Lennox's laughter bounced around the room again, as hearty and loud as ever. 'Seriously? That's the boogey-team you were all talking about the entire fucking year? How pathetic! They're such failures they couldn't even make it out of their region, and they're the ones who gave you a run for your money last year? Shit, I really saved your asses by joining this team, didn't I?'
'You shut the fuck up Lennox!' Spike jumped up on the bench, standing over Lennox. 'This has to be some kind of mistake.' Spike looked back at Coach Heenan. 'That King Denzel guy, he must've been injured right?'
'Calm down and SIT down, Spike,' Kieran said. 'I don't know why you're so surprised. From what I recall, most of their defence last year were seniors. Their back-ups mustn't have been good enough.' His face turned dark with worry as he thought about Sierra Canyon's situation next year.
'No. That can't be the issue,' Mason said. 'That offence was more than strong enough to carry them past the rest of this horrible state, no matter what their defence became. Maybe their star really was hurt.'
'Well, Coach? Was he?' Spike asked.
'I can't find any news of any injuries,' Coach Heenan answered, his glasses back on. 'However … this could interest you.' He turned the tablet around, showing off footage recorded from a spectator's phone of the fight that occurred on the Bears' sideline after the game.
Lennox—after watching a so-called King get smacked in the face and do nothing about it—was laughing so hard that he was rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach.
Spike stared in bewilderment, replaying the footage. 'How can he just … take it? Why is he acting like that? That's not the same guy from last year! That little bitch can't be the guy who was calling himself King and telling everyone to bow down.'
Coach Heenan looked at the tablet again, scrolling through the articles. 'Hmm. They lost to the Dominguez Dons. Their leader is a senior named JJ—Julian Jones—and he's a Middle Linebacker. He must've been the one who toppled this "King".'
He flipped the tablet around once more. Mason stood closest, squinting at the screen. 'He doesn't look like much,' he said.
Spike scoffed. 'How could he stop Denzel? I could run circles around that meathead.'
'Looks can be deceiving,' Coach Heenan said. He scrolled more, though Spike and Mason were right—JJ wasn't special at all.
Spike walked away, shaking his head. 'Tch. Whatever. I can still prove I'm the best. When we beat the guys that took down Warren, everyone will have to acknowledge I'm the best Half-Back in the state.'
Coach Heenan's glasses flashed. He leaned forward on his stool, legs uncrossing. 'Lennox? Come here.'
Lennox's laughter stopped at once. His rolling did too; it was like he was frozen. He looked up at Coach Heenan, eyes narrow. That tone of voice, so cutting and quiet, Coach was serious.
He dragged himself across the room, standing only when he was beside Coach Heenan. He didn't need to ask anything. Coach Heenan turned the tablet around, a video already playing.
It was of another Dons' player. A small boy with arms too long for his body. He must've been a freshman, too. He was a CB, going against the Bears' WR one-on-one.
Lennox watched the two battle it out. The WR was slow and clumsy; he waltzed right into the CB's trap. Even then, the pass was good, the CB's positioning not good enough. It should've gone over his hand.
Lennox tilted his head and blinked. He was watching the whole time, and the whole time he thought the ball was going to sail over the CB's reach and hit the WR's hands over the back. One moment it looked exactly like that, the next, the ball was in the CB's hands.
'Is this shit edited?' he asked, not taking his eyes off the tablet.
'No. It's real.'
He watched the CB and WR tumble to the ground. The CB stood triumphant, ball raised over his head like a trophy, a twisted grin etched onto his face. It was an expression Lennox had only seen in the mirror before. A shudder ran up and down his spine.
'Who did you say this was?'
'His name's Tyrese Samuels. He's the Dons' number one Corner by the looks of it … he also leads the state in interceptions. He's a freshman, like you.'
Coach Heenan let the clip loop and left the tablet on the table. He stood, addressing the rest of the room. 'Alright. Pack up. There's a lot to revise during the bus ride.'
Whilst the others began packing their bags and readying to depart, Lennox stood watching the clip repeatedly. There wasn't a sudden cut. It wasn't even like the ball had made a severe shift in position, but it still felt so strange. Even knowing the pass resulted in an interception, it still looked like it'd go just beyond Ty's outstretched fingers and into the WR's hands instead. But it never did.
Lennox's body tingled. The Bears had never sounded intriguing; he always knew they were bullshit. But these mysterious Dons, they were legit; they were exciting.
"A Corner who overestimates himself and thinks he's untouchable? Plus, he's a freshman just like me? Ohh… Tyrese Samuels. I'm gunna enjoy devouring you!"