On the other side of the field, Harry started cooking up a plot with his boys. They huddled together, eyes darting as they whispered among themselves.
Harry's voice was dominant. As he spoke, everyone stopped and listened.
"Never entrust a man's job to a little boy. David clearly isn't up to the task, boys, so numero uno will handle it from here," he said, locking eyes on one of the players.
David shifted uncomfortably, arms folded tight across his chest, his heart racing uncontrollably.
"It wasn't just me, man. Come on... it's a team game," he muttered. "The whole team messed up, he diced us all up—not just me."
Harry smirked, his eyes locking onto David.
"Guilty conscience, I see," he said. "Excuses are for the weak—for those not good enough to find a solution. And tell me… when did I say it was just you? But if a few words from me makes you fold like a lawn chair, then maybe you're not built for this. Too sensitive. Too soft. We're a group of men here, not little boys."
He stepped forward slightly.
"I don't have time to babysit or hold your hand, David. You should've known that before you even stepped foot on the field. So if that's what you're looking for, then this team… is definitely—not for you.
You're just a deer caught in the headlights. A boy lost at sea with a bunch of sharks, struggling to stay afloat.
We're apex predators—not the prey.
You don't have the makeup to be on my team if you're just a little cub."
He paused, then added with a smirk,
"But don't worry. You'll get your chance to prove me wrong… maybe."
David's face turned red with anger.
"But—"
"But nothing," Harry cut in, brushing past him like he wasn't even there.
"You had your chance. You weren't up to the task. You couldn't get the job done. So sit back, take out your notepad and pen, and watch how the master gets it done."
The whistle blew, and play resumed.
Marcus took the ball and passed it off cleanly to Gabriel, who held it tightly to his chest before springing into motion again. He darted between defenders—left, right—hurdling, spinning. Sharp and fluid. Feet pounding the turf like a rhythm only he could hear.
Nobody could lay a finger on him.
He was putting on a show for the ages. All his teammates could do was stand there and watch in awe. He was setting the pitch ablaze.
Then he saw him.
Harry.
Jai-Lee's words echoed in his mind like an alarm clock with no snooze button.
Gabriel exhaled deeply, already knowing how this would end.
Great… of course it would be him.
The football gods wouldn't have it any other way now, would they?
He's never going to let me live this down.
Still, he pushed forward.
Harry locked in, eyes fixed like a predator spotting its prey. He picked up speed, charging full tilt—faster than Gabriel expected. The field narrowed in Gabriel's vision. Before he could even think of dodging—
BAM!
Harry slammed into him like a freight train.
"Huhhh!" Gabriel's breath exploded out of him.
"Rrghhh!"
His back hit the turf hard, the world spinning around him. The crowd of players let out a collective oof as they leaned back, squinting at how hard Harry hit him.
The whistle blew once.
Then again.
And again.
Coach Kemp's eyes widened as he sprinted across the field, blowing it a fourth time as he neared. Players backed away.
Gabriel lay there, flat on his back, staring up at the sky.
Arghhh… I'm going to feel that for weeks.
His ribs screamed. His legs tingled. He blinked twice, groaning.
Harry leaned over him, hands on his knees, a cocky grin stretched across his face.
"Welcome to the big leagues, little man."
Gabriel winced, lifting one shaky arm and giving a slow thumbs-up.
Coach Kemp knelt beside him.
"You alright, Gabriel?"
Gabriel nodded faintly, thumb still raised.
Coach sighed and stood.
"Alright. That's enough for today, boys. I'll let the two trialists know if any of them made it on Monday. Everyone head in and get changed.
Gabriel—you stay put. Shake off the cobwebs and get your head together before you even think about trying to get up."
As the players walked off, some whispered and others glanced back.
Harry strutted toward the changing rooms, laughing with his crew as they patted him on the back.
"That's how you do it, boys. Never send someone to do a job only the final boss can finish," he said, slapping palms and soaking up the praise.
Inside the changing room, as players toweled off and got dressed, Harry pulled David aside. His smile disappeared.
"You want in?" he asked.
David looked up, desperate.
"More than anything, man."
Harry didn't blink as he stared into his eyes.
"Then what are you gonna do about Gabriel? You gonna let him show us up like that?"
David hesitated.
"Us?"
Harry's expression went cold.
"You were one of us when you took that field. Over and over again, he juked you—made you look like you've never played a day of football in your life. You couldn't lay a finger on him.
You carried my name… and you embarrassed me.
Matter of fact, you embarrassed all the boys."
He leaned in.
"Your dad's gone. The only male in your house is you. That makes you the man.
So start acting like it. Stand on business… or turn around and never come back."
David looked down, eyes full of embarrassment as his shoulders sagged.
"I'm sorry. You're right."
"Words mean nothing," Harry said.
"Actions speak louder than words, David—actions."
He patted David on the shoulder and turned his back. As he walked away, a sinister grin started to form. Harry knew exactly what he was doing, and it was only a matter of time before his ticking time bomb exploded.
David sat for a moment, balling up his fists, teeth grinding, jaw clenched.
Then he snapped.
"ARRGHHH!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, slamming his fist into the locker.
He jumped to his feet, eyes burning with rage, and stormed out of the changing room.
Gabriel, just around the corner, was walking slowly, still rubbing his ribs. His smile was faint—until he saw David charging straight toward him.
His stomach dropped.
David's face was full of rage. His fists were clenched tight, knuckles white, breath heavy and sharp.
Gabriel took a step back, letting go of his side. The pain from the tackle vanished in an instant. His body snapped into focus, every hair on his body rising like a triggered alarm.
"Gabriel!" David shouted, his voice echoing down the corridor.