God damn, Gabriel, I never knew you had it in you," one of his teammates added, offering him a fist bump. Gabriel's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and pride as he bumped fists with his teammate, still processing what had just happened.
The applause, the cheers—it felt good. Too good. But deep down, something didn't feel right.
A wave of anxiety crashed over him, his mind already replaying the moment again and again, searching for something he could've done differently.
"Whoa, my man, what a hit!" Marcus grinned, unable to contain his excitement. "I didn't think you had that in your locker!"
Gabriel's guilt slowly started to fade, replaced by the warm feeling of pride. He glanced at Marcus, then at his other teammates nodding in agreement, their eyes full of admiration. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he'd found somewhere he belonged—a part of something real.
Coach Kirk, watching everything unfold, came charging over with a medic in tow. Every step was full of urgency.
He stopped, gathering his breath as he reached the boys. "First of all, Gabriel—that was amazing. Where on God's green earth did that come from?" he asked, half in shock, half impressed.
"Oh, yeah... David," said Coach Kirk, suddenly remembering what he rushed over for. He'd been too caught up in the same moment everyone else was—the tackle.
David slowly straightened his posture, one hand resting on his stomach as he tried his best to mask the pain through gritted teeth.
"You okay, kid?" Coach Kirk asked, resting a hand gently on David's shoulder.
"I'm fine," David replied, brushing off the help with a dismissive turn of his head. He stood tall, removed Coach Kirk's hand, and walked over to his teammates, doing his best to hide the embarrassment.
Coach Kirk clapped his hands. "Alright boys, let's switch sides now and see what the blue team can do on offense!" His voice beamed with excitement.
"But Coach, that's not how we do things. We've got one play left!" Harry protested, frustration evident in his tone.
"I know, but I want to see what the blue team can do on offense after that spectacular play," Coach Kirk replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Now come on, boys," he clapped repeatedly, "switch sides!"
As he walked off the field and the teams began to get back into formation, Harry's expression immediately switched.
"Listen," he said in a low, aggressive tone through gritted teeth, "he's making a mockery of our team. Put—him—down—now!"
David gulped. He was scared. On one hand, he wanted this more than anyone could know. But on the other hand, the task wasn't as simple as he originally thought.
He looked down at his helmet. Staring back at him was the number 14—the same number his uncle once wore. Now it was his turn to make it mean something again.
That was all the motivation he needed.
His uncle had stepped up when his dad left him and his mom high and dry, never to be seen again. His uncle had shown him what a real man looked like. And now, David was determined to make him proud.
He quickly put on his helmet and gave Harry a short nod.
Across the field, Marcus was still hyped from Gabriel's hit on David. He jogged over to Gabriel, excitement gleaming from every corner of his eyes.
"Gabriel, I'm going to hand off the ball to you," he said, his smile uncontrollable.
Gabriel's eyes widened. "Me?" he asked, shocked. "Why me?"
He hadn't expected this—not in his wildest dreams. The weight of expectation flung itself onto his shoulders. He had two options: carry it through, or let the pressure consume him whole.
Argh, man… what if I mess up? I've never played football before—well, if you count the back garden with my brother, then sure—but that was just me and him. This… this is in front of everyone. The lights shining down, and at any moment, you could end up on someone's highlight reel. Gabriel took a huge gulp and looked around.
"Gabriel, relax man. You got this," Marcus said, noticing Gabriel's nerves begin to get the better of him. "Look at what you did to David. You've got that X-factor. In sports, belief in yourself goes a long way. Believe, Gabe—believe."
Everyone lined up. The tension on the pitch was at full capacity. Not a single voice spoke as they took their positions. You could hear a pin drop.
David turned his head.
Harry's eyes were still locked on him—that same look that promised consequences if he failed.
David turned back around and locked in, waiting for the snap.
Gabriel hunched over. His head pounded like a relentless drum. This was it. The ball was coming his way—and there was no hiding from the moment.
"3-23! 3-23! Hut, hut!"
And the play was live. Every player on the field exploded into action.
Gabriel turned his head, locking eyes with Marcus, who gave him the nod.
The ball flew into Marcus's hands. Marcus took three to four steps back, motioning as if he were going to throw the ball downfield to the wide receivers, who were eating up ground. He faked the throw, then lowered the ball.
Gabriel hesitated for just a second.
Then something clicked.
He closed his eyes—for a fraction of a second—tuning everything out. The noise, the fear, the pressure. He focused on what he wanted to happen.
And then… the world changed.
Everything slowed.
Not like before, when adrenaline took over, or when panic consumed him.
This time was different. This time, it was intentional—and he was in control.
The players around him looked frozen mid-stride. The crowd a blur. Even the wind seemed to pause in anticipation of what was to come.
Gabriel's eyes snapped open. A huge grin spread across his face.
He came from the side, took the ball from Marcus, and secured it tightly. Then he began to carve through the red team like a hot knife through butter.
Dodging tackles like they weren't even there. Weaving through defenders like he was the best in the world. Each move felt effortless—his body reacting before his brain could catch up. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't lay a glove on him.
They looked like statues as he sprinted past them.
He was in his element now—and he was having the time of his life.
The crowd was on their feet, shouting and cheering his name.
"Gabriel! Gabriel!"
Their voices filled the entire field.
Marcus stood there, hands on his head, mouth open. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. He hadn't seen anything like it.
Touchdown!
Gabriel slammed the ball down in the end zone and casually jogged back to his team through the sea of visibly defeated red team.
"That's what I'm talking about, Gabriel!" Marcus said, giving him a high five.
For once… he was the star.
He was the guy.
But not everyone was smiling.
Jai-Lee was up from her seat and on the sidelines, arms crossed, shaking her head in disbelief. She gave him a sharp signal, eyes squinted, and gestured for him to come over.
Still grinning, Gabriel jogged toward her, still slightly out of breath.
"I'm killing it out there, Jai! Did you see me? No one could lay a finger on me!" he said breathlessly.
Jai-Lee didn't smile. Her face was stone cold. Her voice was low. Serious.
"I wonder why, Gabe… maybe it had something to do with your— superpowers perhaps," she said through gritted teeth.
Gabriel squinted and looked to the ground.
"Cut it out now, Gabe. You're drawing attention to yourself—a lot of it. Remember why you didn't want to do this in the first place. You're one blindsided hit—one accident—away from a transformation. There will be no hiding then."
Gabriel's stomach sank. He looked around at the cheering crowd, at the eyes on him, the clapping hands, the voices chanting his name.
His blood ran cold.
She was right.
He had gotten caught up in the excitement of the moment… and forgotten the most important rule.
He nodded slowly, guilt washing over him like a cold wave.
"You're right, Jai. I'm sorry. I'll tone it down."
But Jai-Lee wasn't finished.
"You've got to let someone hit you—and hard—and hope to God you don't change. Because if they keep feeding you the ball and you keep using your powers, that's too risky, Gabriel. You need the attention off of you—and fast," she said firmly.
Gabriel groaned.
"I can feel the pain already."
Still, he knew what he had to do—and he hoped and prayed the plan would go off without any hitches.
Without another word, he jogged back onto the field—adrenaline replaced by steady, growing dread.
He had tasted what it felt like to be seen. To be a somebody.
And now… he had to let that go.
Because staying hidden meant survival.