The Dons' defence were a frenzy around Ty, obscuring the world from his vision. They acted as if he'd just handed them the national championship. (He might have.) It was a shame Ty couldn't see Elliot's face; he would've enjoyed the misery. He could hear the boos. They were glorious and deafening.
Deshaun and others from the defence were basking in the boos as well, flaunting their success in front of the Tigers' fans. Most likely those fans didn't even care that much for the Tigers and just wanted to see the Dons lose.
After Ty received his praises from the boys, coaches, and a relieved Bella, he took a seat on the bench. Coach Hoang moved in beside him. 'Hell of a catch, Samuels,' he said. 'Is it still lucky when you're the one benefiting?'
Ty glared at Coach Hoang. 'Tell me what part of the shit I just did involved "luck",' he spat the word.
'Luck isn't a bad thing. Good players create their own luck, like you just did. Getting those stops, incrementally raising the pressure on the offence until it finally bursts, and they make a mistake? That's making your own luck. If you disagree you're more than welcome to explain what happened from your perspective.'
'I just did what you told me when the ball was popped up into the air,' Ty said dismissively. That could've been construed as the lucky part, it was the part people would focus on most, but it wasn't the important bit. There was a reason he was still waiting to snatch Elliot's necklace. 'Before that, I figured him out. This Dumbo monk isn't as faithful as he seems.'
'…Go on.'
Ty grinned, leaning towards Coach Hoang. 'I'm not sure if you can see it from over here, but on the field he's so tense. Even when running his route, it's like his whole body will explode at any moment. Until he makes his final move.'
'He relaxes right before the catch?'
'Yes! All those twists and turns, all those feints, he's still so tense and NERVOUS. Even though he says he's following in "their guidance" and listening to the football gods or whatever, he doesn't truly believe they'll guide him to glory until he's right at the finish line. … Or what he thinks is the finish line, anyway.'
'Huh…' Coach Hoang looked across the field. Maybe Elliot Wall wasn't special, and it was only his "luck" that had carried him so far.
The Tigers' defence were surprised to see the Dons' offence switch their formation in a minor, but key way. Stephen was no longer the isolated Receiver working with the fat side of the field. Instead, Cole was in his place.
During the Dons' defensive stand, Cole had spoken with Coach Norman on the bench. The break after scoring had given him a good chance to review what had happened in the drive, what had went wrong after Wallace switched onto him. WHY it had gone wrong—Wallace was scared.
It's the only reason he would abandon their zone and defend him personally. Plus, he was constantly shielding Cole away from the outside, and giving him plenty of space so as not to get beat deep. To get around that defence, Cole needed more space, needing the strong side of the field where he had all the room he needed to operate. With that much space, he could take short catches underneath, and turn them into long gains if he just got around one Tiger.
Wallace gave Cole some space when they lined up. He wanted to observe; the dice were still rolling in his head, and he needed to know which way they'd fall.
The first play was a pass, a quick one-step drop-back before Jay fired the ball over to Cole on a short Slant. As soon as Cole caught it, he spun back to the outside, leaving Wallace grasping at air. He raced ahead, passing the first-down marker before the next Tiger reached him, knocking him out of bounds for a 13-yard gain.
The Tigers offered no assistance as he got up and back onto the field. Stephen was running over to see he made it back without any troubles. Wallace sent the pair a scowl as he jogged back to the Tigers' huddle.
Wallace crept up to the line once the teams took their formations. The Dons preferred to dink and dunk their way downfield. He'd worried the shift in focus had meant they'd try something new with Cole, but they were still the same old Dons.
Jay glanced over to Cole and Wallace, eyes scanning the battle formations before the war commenced. He took a deep breath. 'Train! … Train!' he made sure both sides of the Dons' formation heard the audible. No visual shift was made, but those who the message was for understood their new role.
The ball was snapped. Cole feinted inside before shooting up and out, passing by Wallace, who swiped at his jersey, and turned to give chance. Cole had the step, and he wouldn't relinquish it. Bursting ahead, he raised a hand, calling for the ball. Jay lobbed it over.
Wallace lunged, reaching over Cole's shoulder. He didn't have to disrupt the ball, just the catch … but he was short, a step too many behind. All he did was drape an arm over Cole's shoulder. Cole stretched out, cradling the ball, dragging his feet. He fell out of bounds with the ball wrapped tight to his chest, good for another gain of 18. More importantly, the play proved Wallace couldn't step close. He had to give Cole space, or be burnt over the top.
The Dons lined up once more. Wallace tried to find the middle ground in his stance, the sweet spot where he wasn't giving Cole too much room, but wasn't too close. Cole attacked him at the snap, shooting forward. He waited until Wallace turned his hip to switch from backpedalling to sprinting, then stopped and curled back.
Cole caught the ball on his chest, running forward another yard as he twisted around, facing Wallace front on. There was all the room in the world for Cole to operate, but only two paths to choose—inside or outside. Wallace lunged out, and his gamble paid off as he shouldered Cole out of bounds, keeping the gain to only 8.
Cameron came in and picked up the rest of the yards with his legs. The Dons had to remind the Tigers they could still run, even if it was a gruelling charge up the middle which only just got them over the line. Messages carried a lot of weight.
They went right back to the air on first down, however. Again Jay hit Cole on a Slant, squeezing the pass in to him before Wallace could collapse. Cole arched his back after the catch, though Wallace snagged his jersey. He surged ahead for another yard, bring the gain to 5 before he fell.
The crowd was growing desperate. Worry had crept into their voices for the first time that game after the interception, now it was about to boil over. Even if the Tigers still held a two-possession lead, they were rapidly falling apart. Another score—worse, a touchdown—and it'd all crumble.
They were right where the Dons wanted them. Jay and Cole shared a smirk during the huddle. The call was obvious; Wallace was going to fall into their trap, they were sure of it.
Wallace paced on the edge of the Tigers' huddle. They were making a mockery of him, making him look bad. He wouldn't believe in Elliot's stupid bullshit about gods and guidance! The dice were still rolling, he hadn't thrown snake eyes just yet. There was still a chance, and for Wallace, it didn't matter how slim that chance was, he'd take it. He just had to wait for the perfect time, for the dice to fall just right.
Cole and Wallace faced off one more time. Neither boy had said a word to the other the whole game, and they didn't start then.
The stadium rocked with thunderous stomps and panic-stricken cries of "dee-fence" as the world awaited the snap. 'SET … HIKE!' Jay took the ball, dropping back. He didn't even think of handing it off or looking anywhere other than at Cole.
Cole started inside, like he wanted to pass by Wallace for a Cross of some kind. When he reached the marker, he shot Out. Wallace hadn't turned his hips yet, was still backpedalling and watching. He saw Jay cock back to throw just before Cole made his cut. The chance was there. With a kiss for good luck, he tossed the dice.
They tumbled. When Cole straightened and shot up the sideline, Wallace knew the dice had fallen poorly. Snake eyes. Jay held onto the ball; it was only a pump fake. Once Cole blitzed past Wallace, he reloaded. Stepping into it, Jay unloaded the bomb. To get by the Safety help, it needed to be deep; Cole needed to put on the afterburners. So he did.
He stretched out, giving it his all. The ball hung in the air for what felt like a lifetime, and even with his legs and arms pumping furiously, propelling him faster than ever before, Cole still had to dive to reach the ball. His fingers slipped under it, protecting it from the ground as he reeled it in, sliding belly-first across the turf and into the end-zone.
Disbelief was already setting into the crowd before the officials had made any signal. Protests flew from their lips, almost covering the whistle. They would've if not for how shrill its cry was. It was a catch. It was a touchdown.
The crowd fell silent, all for the tiny pocket around the Dons' bench, which went ballistic. They made up for their lack of numbers with the volume of their cheers. A roar as good as any of the Tigers' filled the stadium as the Dons raced down to the end-zone to celebrate with Cole. Others piled upon Jay.
When the offence finally dragged themselves off the field for the special teams unit, the celebrations caught spark again as the bench and defence joined in, showering Jay and Cole with praise rather than boos for once that game.
The Dons were fired up, and that fire blazed even more hotly and dangerously after the successful extra point brought the game to within three. 10–13 was the score. A score too close for the Tigers' fans.
But the Dons weren't the only ones inspired by the touchdown. An animal grew most wild when backed into the corner, and the Tigers were certainly feeling the walls closing in around them the more ground the Dons gained.
The following kickoff sailed past the end-zone for a touchback. Ty sauntered onto the field. The momentum was fully behind the Dons. Even if they weren't leading, they were in control of the game and their own destiny. The Tigers had something to say about that.
Elliot walked onto the field, tentative. His eyes darted around constantly. He was cold. Colder than he ever remembered being on a football field. The stadium was air-conditioned, but it wasn't THAT cold before. It was different it was … Their glow and warmth was missing.
No. Impossible. How could that ever happen? They were always watching but … Ty stood before him, his grin all-consuming. The Dons were only 3 points away. Why was that frightening? The Tigers always pulled through by the skin of their teeth.
Ty was the source of that coldness. He was the one who blocked Their light. That was why … no. That was nonsense. No-one could block Their guidance, overpower Their warmth. Elliot closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Calm and steady. He had to remain calm and steady. They were always watching. He had to stop being blind.
Ty was strong, but he refused guidance, he was blind but overwhelming. Elliot couldn't let Ty blind him as well. "They're always watching. Me closer than all. Because They chose ME. I am the one."
Elliot opened his eyes, staring ahead. Ty locked eyes with him, but even then, Elliot was staring beyond him. Not just past him to something tangible in the distance. At least not a SPACE in the distance. It was an odd, inexplicable mixture of absent and present.
The ball was snapped. A run to the outside only went backwards as Donte broke free around the edge and tackled the RB in the backfield for a loss of 1. The crowd booed heavily, though it was uncertain which side those boos were directed at.
Ty cackled. The Tigers were already broken. He could see them, glancing to the scoreboard, hoping desperately that they might hold on to their fragile lead even with a full quarter and then some to go. Ty would shatter them completely with a pick-six. Elliot would crumble then too.
Elliot still had that strange look in his eyes when they lined up again. Ty wondered what despair would look like on that stupid face after he snatched away victory, hope, along with Elliot's heart.
At the snap, Elliot kept his eyes open. Ty recovered swiftly from the momentary surprise, darting back, watching, waiting. It wasn't one of those plays Elliot sacrificed to observe his opponent, even though his eyes were open. Nor was he tense. A fear Ty denied crept through his body.
Elliot stepped outside, as loose and relaxed as ever. More faithful than he'd ever been. Ty jumped outside, and stumbled as Elliot pushed off to the inside on a Post. Madness. No-one else had run deep, Zayden patrolled the middle. Though the pass came.
Elliot strode across confidently, even with Zayden bearing down on him. He extending towards the ball, plucked it away from Elliot right under his nose. In the same motion of dragging it into his chest, Elliot spun away from Zayden, their pads grazing one another. Elliot didn't even stumble as he completed his spin and raced away. The motion itself still took some of his speed, which was the only thing that stopped him from going all the way to the end-zone. Sonny, the Dons other senior Safety, tripped him up from behind.
With one play the Tigers crossed half-field, even after the setback from the prior run. And it was only a step away from being a 76-yard touchdown. The crowd was too stunned to even cheer properly. The play had been so against the grain it was a shock to all. None more so than Ty.
"What the fuck happened?" His mind raced, trying to figure out what had changed since his interception. Elliot's faith had only got stronger after taking such a beating? After Ty proved he was superior to Elliot's "luck". How?
Elliot was special, that much was clear … but … hadn't his parlour trick with closing his eyes been that something special? Ty suppressed a shudder. Elliot had only just then revealed why he was so special. Why he was number three.
Bella's nail snapped off. She hissed and sucked her thumb where it was bleeding, relieving some of the sting. It did nothing for her worrying. She watched Ty, quivering. He had to change. Surely he could sense Elliot had. There was such a strange warmth to him, and a weird, almost ethereal look to him. Like you were looking at someone he wasn't really there. Someone who was flickering in and out of the future.
She knew Ty could combat that warmth, freeze it, and freeze Elliot so he remained in the present. … But he wasn't. He was still right there, not a world away, not so cold as if his heart was unmeltable ice.
"Please. You have to. We'll lose without you."
The ball was snapped. Ty pounced to press, but was shrugged off. He stumbled but righted himself and flew after Elliot. It didn't matter if he gave up a step at the start, he could erase any gap in an instant.
He did, catching up to Elliot with ease. But when Elliot stopped as if he'd hit a brick wall, Ty kept going and flew past him. Something within Ty's leg groaned at him when he slammed on the breaks. He stuffed the ache down and burst back towards Elliot. The ball was already on its way.
He dove, stretching. If he could just get to Elliot's arms he could stop the catch, slap the ball from his hands. The ball graced Elliot's hands for a moment, and … bounced off? Ty slammed into him, already committed to the effort. He hadn't caught a lucky break. That wasn't a drop. It was a pass, like a touch pass in basketball. Elliot knocked the ball on, and his teammate—who was streaking past from across the field—caught the rebound in stride.
Elliot was the Hook and they were the Ladder, racing by too fast for Deshaun to keep up as he hurdled around the carnage that was Elliot and Ty's crash. The second Receiver, ironically wearing the number "two", curved up and straightened along the sideline. Zayden sprinted over, the last line of defence. He had a head start, but the Receiver was already in top gear. His angle was long, but he just barely made it, containing a cutback and dragging the Receiver down.
It was an even greater gain than the last play, bringing the Tigers right to first and goal at the Dons' 9-yard line. That one the crowd could celebrate. Repeated success had knocked them from their stupor, and they were as raucous as ever.
The Tigers weren't losing. There was no comeback. They had never doubted them EVER. Ty snarled to himself, hands blocking the narrow holes on the sides of his helmet. He refused to believe what was happening. Yes the Tigers had found success and got a few lucky passes, but they were NOT about to score a touchdown. He denied that vehemently. And he would deny it physically too. On the football field, reality was HIS to determine. Elliot would learn that the hard way, and he'd snatch his stupid eyes right from his skull if that's what it took to make him see the truth.
The Dons were still reeling from the confusion as they lined up. They knew their jobs at least. But more than a few worried glances went Ty's way. Elliot stood silent; Ty spoke enough for the both of them.
'I won't let you score. You're NOT going to score. Not even another fucking catch. I don't care what kind of bullshit you pull, how many fancy tricks you try, it won't matter. Luck doesn't exist. Skill is all that matters and NO-ONE can match my skill. You hear me? I know you can. You'll be praying to me after this game, because as long as I stand on this field, the only god in this stadium is ME.'
Elliot held his tongue until the snap.
He surged ahead, pushing through Ty's press, backing him up into the end-zone. He shimmied out then in. Ty slid across. Something over the middle would be the quickest pass, shortest distance through the air, the least amount of time for him to adjust and disrupt the pass. But it wasn't where Elliot was guided to, no matter what Ty thought.
Elliot cut, as smooth as a knife through air, to the outside. His hands were already raised, out of Ty's grasping reach. A flag flew as Ty snagged and ripped jersey, but Elliot continued on, diving for the pylon. He clasped the ball within strong, safe hands, cradling it against his chest. His toes feathered through the grass, dragging across so softly they hardly left a mark as he plummeted out of bounds over the pylon.
Just like that, the Tigers had a touchdown.
On the verge of the final break, the lead was back out to ten, and the Dons' counter had been countered itself.
The ref was already counting before they even knew they were flat on their back staring up at lights that were all too bright. Could they still stand?