Saint Joseph School

(HUGE thanks to both Damian Singleton aka Shadow's Mirage and Yuki Ookami for the collaborative effort!)

Pre-Game

The Panther stadium shook through the stands and locker rooms as the home crowd roared in anticipation of the start of the game. The game hadn’t even begun, this was just the introduction, the normal Panther welcome when the Cats played at home. These were the things that stabbed fear in any team that dare tread on Panther turf.

“This is so not cool.” Sam said as she sat in a locker/cubby, facing the middle of the floor in the newly refinished locker room. Staring back at them from the middle of the floor, embossed into the white tile was a black panther in a pouncing motion. The panther also glared at them from every wall in the locker room. "I swear, its eyes follow you." She said, elbowing Bryan Baxter beside her as she pointed to the cat's yellow eyes.

The echoes from the crowd continued to shake the locker room. The only thing stronger than that was the electricity that filled the air. No one still really found out who was the weasel that gave the Panthers the play book. But, of course, there were the assumptions.

“Come on Flyers, don’t let these Panther assholes, psyche you out. We belong here too, they have nothing on us. We’re the Flyers Dammit.” Hannigan yelled out, standing in the middle of the locker room, centered in the middle of the Panther. “We got this!”

"Yeah, unless Damian hands it over." Charlie Miller interjected.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Means you gave them the playbook, and you best not give them the game!" Charlie shot back. Damian gritted his teeth.

"We don't know how they got the book." Antoine rationalized.

"We know that Syl the Thrill hangs out at your house!" Charlie accused. "And a few other of your Panther buddies, like Tybalt!"

"That doesn't mean he did it." Ty replied in Damian's defense. Charlie turned on him as well.

"Don't think you're off the hook either." He accused. "I know Morris and his pals hang out at the skateboard park with you." Ty scowled, and held up his arm, still in the sling.

"I haven't exactly been dropping in lately." He shot back.

"Sam has." Lonsdale Rayburn answered matter of fact with a shrug.

"That's enough, Miller!" Darweishi Brown warned.

"You and Bartel could've sold us out yourselves, seeing as you probably even won't go to state." Jerome Reugamer accused. Luke Bartel snickered in response, but the door swung open before Brown could respond.

Coach Waters entered the locker room. He was quiet, which was unusual, but worse than that, he was calm. He barely looked up from behind the brim of his baseball cap as he cut an eye at Hannigan. His look spoke volumes.

“Knock it the hell off.” He growled. His eyes scanned the rest of the room. Anger peered across his face. The thought of the playbook miraculously ending up in the hands of the Panther line up still pissed him off, irregardless of if it was purposeful or by carelessness.

“I don’t have anything to say to you. You all know where I stand.” His eyes continued to pierce the room, chilling each player as he landed on them. “This whole damn season, I’ve raised my voice, I’ve thrown my cap,” he said flicking the brim. “I flipped tables and dumped your Gatorade, I’ve even had a frickin’ heart attack.” His voice boomed.

The eyes of his team showed confusion. They had no idea where coach was going, and no one was going to ask.

“I did it all for you. Losing the playbook was the most….it was the stupidest. I can’t even think of correct dialogue to say in front of you of how much of a bonehead move that was.” He ground his teeth as he spit the words out. “You lose this game….just, don’t, lose this game.”

“Take ‘em on the field.” Coach Waters said, pointing into the direction of Damian, the finger could of sent out an electrical discharge, how it shocked the hell out of the locker room. “This is your old team, your old field, your old friends.”

“But coach….” Damian tried to throw his point across.

“Stomp a mud hole in ‘em Flyers.” Coach continued. “Don’t…mess up.”

“WHO ARE WE”

“FLYERS” The team roared.

“WHO” Reed yelled behind them.

“FLYERS, skin ‘dem Cats” The team yelled as they moved towards the door exiting the locker room. To the back stood Damian, standing in his same spot. Coach Waters looked at him before he turned to follow the rest of the out.

“I said lead them out Singleton, not follow.”

"Unless you have something to hide." Biff Hannigan sneered. Damian glared at him angrily, but took his spot towards the front. Fighting with the coach would be pointless. He'd save it for the field.

Brandon snarled and yelled right along with the rest of the team, buying into the bullshit like he rarely had before. Red had filled his vision this week more often than he'd ever seen before. He roared and gnashed his teeth with the rest of the team, screaming along with them and nearly jumping up and down in his ecstatic fury.

This was his chance. His frustration with having failed Del, his anger at his sister, his sheer fury at being forced to make nice small talk during Thanksgiving; all of it was going to erupt out there. He could feel it building. If it wasn't for the coach, he'd have flash-fried the entire locker room already.

He didn't know how long the box had been in the back of his mind, but he knew what it looked like. It was scarred and rusty, pitted from acid burns and bulging in places from the blows dealt to the inner walls. It was where the anger lived, in that half-buried box. Or rather, it had. Like any well-fed animal, it had grown, and it had started to get out lately. Now the box was twisted wreckage in the landscape of his mind, and the towering rage roared through him. There was no place for it to go except into the game, and it went gladly.

He was damn near incoherent with the power of it all. He tore into the stadium like a rabid hurricane, and he paced back and forth on the sidelines, damn near frothing at the mouth.

The Panthers were about to have a fairly bad night.

FIRST QUARTER:

The Flyers took the field first, the small section reserved for visitors packed to the brim and making some noise for their team. Then Panther stadium came alive with the roar of a large cat, as Fort Minor's "Remember the Name" blared from the speakers. The Panther cheer squad held a large banner stating "10-0, these cats have claws! Here comes the winning team!" But the Panthers didn't run onto the field. They tore through the paper banner, and they marched, holding their helmets up high as if they'd already won the game. The crowd was on their feet, stomping and yelling for their undefeated heroes. The Flyers watched the meant-to-intimidate display with disdain, rolling their eyes and thumping each other on the shoulder pads to stay psyched up.

The fact that the Panthers won the toss-up didn't do much to help morale, either, but still the team took it in stride. They had two-a-day practices for the entire week, and some of the team had stayed at afternoon practice well until dark. Most of them converged during lunch hour and study halls to memorize the new calls. Coach Waters knew they were ready.

But the Panthers came on strong, taking Bill Harrison's opening kickoff and putting together an impressive 80 yard drive that bit up a large chunk of the first quarter clock. Dave Tybalt threw three passes, completing all of them. The Flyers defensive line cursed, some looking angrily towards the sidelined Darweishi Brown. "Two people do not make a team!" Coach Waters had reminded them all week when anyone groused. Truth be told, the coach had thought about appealing to get both boys to play. It was, afterall the most important game of the season. He hated the fact that the entire team might suffer because of the actions of the two, but he also knew they were lucky to not be suspended. He also knew that someone was responsible for the Panthers getting their paws on that book, but that could wait too. First things first. Win this game, and no bullshit, they'd go on to play the Division I champs at Gillette Stadium. They had it in them. He clapped his hands together and turned his attention back towards the game.

Tybalt's final 35 yard pass to Kyle Grimalkin placed the ball at the Flyer's 10, where he was taken down by Charlie Miller. Two attempts to move the ball on the ground actually lost a few yards, but the Panthers weren't done. Tybalt lined up and flicked the ball to Tom Sylvester, and the hometown crowd groaned when "Syl the Thrill" was pushed out of bounds by Diyar Delavar. It brought up a fourth-and-goal from the three yardline, but Tybalt was confident in his offensive line. He waved off kicker Lionel Jones, lining up in a short-yardage formation.

William Briggs and Biff Hannigan stood ready, flexing their muscles and gritting their teeth. Damian Singleton shifted his eyes around the line. He knew the formation. Tybalt would likely fake hand-off and run it in himself. He knew Dave was a bit of a show-stealer, the Quarterback would take any opportunity he could to cross the end-zone himself. He kept his eyes trained on him. The Panthers center handed the ball back, and Tybalt spun to hand off to Sean Bastet. Damian ignored the fake and headed for Tybalt, realizing too late that he'd misjudged the call. Bastet sidestepped past Flyer Jeremy Ruegamer who was covering Brown's position, and crossed into the end-zone.

Lionel Jones's kick was a little low, but it tipped into the goal posts none the less, and the Panthers drew first blood.

Unfortunately, after a botched play where Zack Aiken cut left (the old play) instead of up the center, (the new play), Stephen Reed and the offensive line couldn't move the ball. The Panthers' defensive line came on strong, boxing in both Bryan Baxter and Antonie DuBois, and as the clock ran out, they were still down by 7 points.


First Quarter Score: Flyers 0, Panthers 7

Damian looked at the line-up from the Panthers. He smiled a little, this could be his chance to prove that he wasn't trying to turn over the game to his old team.

He read the play, which wasn't hard since he had run the play himself before. He knew that Tybalt would take it.

"I'm comin' for you Tybbie." he growled as he shot off straight at the QB, not even reading. But, at the end he realized his choice was a bad one. Tybalt didn't have the ball, but it was too late to turn to where the ball went, he had to follow through, taking the QB of his feet with a powerful hit.

Profanity shot out of Damians mouth since he realized his mistake.

"Way to make a mistake freak-boy" Tybalt mocked, looking up at Damian and grabbing his face mask. "Com'on D, give us the game buddy." He laughed "we're your friends." Damian placed his hand on the QB's facemask and pushed himself off.

SECOND QUARTER:

The first play of the second quarter, the Flyers returned the favor, holding the Panther offensive line at bay.

"Traitor." Sean Bastet hissed at Damian Singleton, after the cornerback had managed to down the halfback before the first down. Damian scowled at his one time friend from underneath his helmet. He switched schools. It wasn't like he'd be allowed to play for Prescott anyway. It wasn't his fault.

After two unsuccessful pass attempts and another running play fell short, the Flyer's offensive line was ready to take the field.
"Let's go, let's go, our time, We'll get 'em!" Reed called, clapping his hands as the offensive team took the field. Prescott had been forced to punt, and with the wind in their favor, Kasim Moamber had caught the ball all the way on the Flyer 11, gaining only four yards before being tackled by Prescott's free safety, Greg Morris. They were starting from their own fourteen, and had a long way to go. Reed wanted to make a strong statement with his opening drive, and maybe, just a little, to one-up his Panther’s counterpart. For any and all of these reasons, he sent three receivers deep on his first play. Baxter and Aiken drew the tightest coverage, so Reed looked to Brandon Jordan, who broke free and was streaking down the left sideline. The pass was a little long, but Jordan put on a burst of speed and made a shaky but fair catch, managing to pull the ball in tight as he tumbled to the ground at the Panther's 40.

"Red Sixteen, Red Sixteen!" Reed called. Bryan Baxter nodded in response, well aware of the new play. The wide receiver found an opening and collected Reed’s 18-yard pass for a first down. Quickly calling his team back to the line, Reed called for a running play, trying to keep the defense off-balance. DuBois managed to break through and gain 24 yards to set up first and 10 from the Prescott 18, but that's as far as the Panthers would let them get. Baxter was tackled on the next play, and both Aiken and DuBois were taken down without gaining any yards. With the drive stalled, Samantha Douglas was called in to open the scoring.

"Watch for 58, Lorne Garfield." Singleton warned as Douglas lined up. Will McCarty nodded in response. Sure enough, as he snapped the ball back towards Reed, he saw Garfield heading fast from the outside. The Flyers Center side-stepped twice and collided with the large linebacker, as Douglas' field goal put the Flyers on the score board.

But as the Flyers celebrated the small accomplishment, the Panthers rallied in response. Two plays into their next possession, Sylvester found some open field and gained an extra 42 yards before being run down by Singleton. But in spite of the big play, the Panthers were once again unable to cross the end zone, twice stopped by Delevar, and once by Fairchild. This time, Lionel Jones was brought in for the field goal and nailed it as both teams headed into the lockers.

Score at the half: Flyers 3, Panthers 10.

HALF-TIME

(ON THE FIELD - Thanks to Yuki Ookami for this write up!)

The players rush to their sides. The coaches round up the teams and they make their way off the field. The cheer squad stands poised and ready from the side line. The band off to one end starts playing as they have been after each yard earned or lost. This was their time to shine as well. The brass ringed out and most could feel the drums in their chests. The energy was high.

Brianna and Franky took the lead as the cheer squad ran onto the field. They positioned themselves evenly in front of the main bleachers. Some looked at each other while others stood motionless staring at the crowd with pinned smiles on each face. The crown clapped and a few whistles and cheers were heard for some of the girls. A voice broke the built tension, “Ready!?” The squad stands with their arms on their hips. “Let’s go!”

“Saint Joseph High is here to fight,” they jerk their hands together in a clasp.
“We will win this game tonight!” Their voices in unison echo out.
They move their hands back to their hips and begin to sway them in a circular motion.
“We’re here to move!”
“Get in the groove!”
They clap together then point to the crowd and their fellow classmates.
“So get em, hey yeah, go get em!” They stomp their feet.
“Get em, hey yeah, go get em!” They cheer and jump in place while some kick their legs in full extensions.

The captain looks down the line. With a nod all the girls take their positions. They quickly form three bases encasing one girl in the middle. Two girls kneel off to each side of the group waiting for their cues.

“Fire it up!” They yell giving two loud claps.
“Get on up!” The bases launch the girls in the middle sky ward. The girls lift their legs straight up while balancing on one foot as the base holds them up. They move together in a circle.
“Fire it up, and up, and up, and up!!” The balancing girls fall down into the hands of the base before being tossed back up in a flip. As they are caught by the bases the two girls on the ends cross each other with hand springs. Before the two girls finish their last flip the squad has reformed the line one in front of the other staggering. In pairs they jump into a back handspring. They group up one more time as the crowd cheers. Some girls get down on their knees facing away from the crowd. Others bend over behind the ones on their knees while the rest stand tall behind them with their arms stretched out.
“Come unite!” they yell. The girls on their knees bend over backwards facing the crowd with their faces upside down. The middle row bending over them waves their hands and the back row close in the gaps with their arms shacking in the air.
“Fight, Saint Joes, fight!” They all cheer.

The group gets up and continues to cheer as the crowd claps and cheers back. They jump and kick. They raise their hands and wave to the crowd and friends. Some even add a few extra flips. They all feel pumped and happy with the routine.

One looks at another and sarcastically says, “See, we don't even need a pyramid.”

They run off the field cheering the whole way and get ready to see their team come back out.

HALF-TIME

(In the locker room)

Coach Waters gathered his team in the locker room, and asked each of them to take a knee.
"You're playing a good game." He told them, his voice still relatively calm considering his insides were churning like a windmill caught up in a cyclone. "But they're playing better. So I'm going to remind you all of something I told you last year when we played this very same team. Who here remembers what 212 is?"

"Boiling point of water!" Sam and Bryan replied unanimously.

"That's right! And who remembers what 211 means?"

"Nothing but hot water!" Ty Cloud chimed in.

"Damn straight. And hot water does nothing. One degree. One single degree is the difference between hot water and the boiling point. Well, boiling water makes STEAM, and STEAM powers locomotives! Right now? I'm seeing nothing but Two-hundred and eleven degrees of effort out there, and that's why you're lagging! Now after the season you all had, if you're content being a bunch of two-eleven losers, then let me know right now, because I'm not going to sit by and watch."

"They know our plays." Miller muttered, glaring at Singleton.

"Enough!" The coach shouted, closing in fast on Miller. "I know that hurts as a team, but I also know you all worked your asses off, harder than you would have if that stupid book didn't end up in their hands. Right now, I don't give a flying f... flip how that happened, you hear me? And if you let that one fact beat you, you best not show up for try-outs next year. Right here, right now, what matters is THIS game. So either you all go out there, you go big and you show me two-twelve, or you climb right back on that bus and lick your wounds, understand?

NO. MORE. EXCUSES! You go out there, and you show me some steam! I want to see freight trains taking on kittens out there! Who has two-twelve in them?"

"The Flyers." Biff Harrison replied, pounding on a locker.

"Who?"

"THE FLYERS!" The team shouted back.

"Damn straight! Steam roll 'em!"

THIRD QUARTER:

After the Halftime rally the Flyers came out onto the field with a little more fire lit under them. Even though there were the quarrels of the play book, they knew that they would have to push all of that to the side if they wanted to win this game to go on to the State Championship. That’s all that was on the team's collective minds.

The Flyers received the ball to begin the third quarter. With some help from a strong tail wind, it sailed through the air into the hands of Kasim Moamber. Digging his cleats into his own team's end zone he launched himself off the Black and white “P”. He bolted up the field until he reached the midfield stripe where he was pushed out of bounds by the Panthers kicker at the 50 yard line.

The Flyer fans jumped to their feet at the miraculous run. So did the Flyer sideline, knowing they weren’t out of the game, not by a long shot.

“Way to run, way to run!” Coach Waters yelled. “Someone’s showing me some 2-12. Steam-roll ‘em Flyers!” He continued to yell, pointing a fist towards the field.

“Com’on Flyers, you heard the coach. Let’s pour it on.” Reed spoke in the huddle, looking over to DuBois as the words left his lips. “On 2, ready!”

“Break” The Flyer offense yelled in unison. They rushed to the line of scrimmage, not holding back anything. Their blood boiled, and they were being fueled, but it wasn’t rage, or anger. It was steam.

“Yellow, 15…Yellow 15. Titan, Titan.” Reed called, causing the offense to set in a different line up. Baxter and Jordan were set, both having studied the new play calls until they knew them like the back of their hand. Zack Aiken wasn't as prepared, but he managed to fall in line with his teammates, converting the new call into the old call in his head. The tight end from the right switched over and lined up beside the tight end on the left, stacking that side. Bryan Baxter dropped off the line of scrimmage into the back field about 2 yards. DuBois and second string running back Richie Anderson moved from split backs to an “I” formation.

The Panther D tried to adjust to the Flyer play, but to Reed's delight, they seemed more concerned themselves with trying to figure out which play the call translated into. was able

“What play is that” They called to each other. “Yellow what?”

Reed smiled at the Panther defensive line before calling the cadence.

“Sucks for you” Lonsdale Rayburn mocked. Coach Waters shook his head from the sidelines in agreement to the play change and the confusion on the Panthers as they scurried about, trying to find a retaliating position. But, to no avail as Reed called the cadence, catching the Panthers off guard, and leaving their middle wide open, as they sent more players to cover the receivers anticipating the pass.

Faking a pass Reed dropped back, quickly handing the ball off to Dubois as he pounded the ball up the middle, and gained 27 yards on the carry. The Flyer fans roared in approval as the side line left their feet jumping up and down, yelling Two-Twelve!

“Huddle” McCarty yelled, waving his arms and getting the Offense to circle around him.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about Flyers. Good run Oby.” Reed congratulated, slapping the RB across the helmet. “Same play….swivel, listen for it. Ready?”

“Break”

The Flyers again rushed to the line of scrimmage, as the Panthers talked trash to them as the home crowd jeered.

“We ain’t gonna let that happen again freaks!” The Defensive tackle yelled across the line of scrimmage. But the remark didn’t break the Flyers, their minds where on something totally different. Winning.

“We know all your plays!” Morris reminded them.

“You don’t know this one” Reed mumbled with a snicker, as he repeated his same cadence “Yellow 15, yellow 15…swivel Titan, Titan.”

“Same play, same play” The Panther Defense yelled, thinking they had the advantage.

Calling for the ball, Reed dropped back, faking the hand off to Dubois who was immediately taking off his feet when he hit the hole.

The corner covering Baxter took his eyes off just enough to let the speedy receiver squeeze by and up the field uncovered. Reed saw his opening and launched the ball, leading the receiver straight into the end zone for the catch.

The Flyer fans left their feet as the cheerleaders led them in a cheer and the band began their fight song.

“Field goal team” Coach Waters yelled, sending Sam out on the field. The ball easily sailed through the uprights, bringing the score to a tie.

“Are you gonna take that?" The Panthers' coach yelled to his team. "This is YOUR house! I want to see more points on the board!” The Panther offensive line took the field.

“Defense” Coach Waters yelled “2-12 D, 2-12”

Both teams took the field lining up against one another after the kick. Annimosity filled the air. These two teams could prove to be the biggest rivalry in Rhode Island.

Not even wasting a breath, panther QB Dave Tybalt called his cadence. Singleton covered their receiver, Grimalkin, who was pretty fast, and could stop on a dime to turn any direction that he needed.

Tybalt dropped back, looking for the pass as the Flyer defensivemen rushed in, led by Delevar who got to the QB only half a second after the ball left his finger tips. The ball spiraled into the direction of Grimalkin, but didn’t quite make it into his hands as it was deflected by Singleton.

“Not this time” Damian mocked.

“Shut-up freak! No one trusts you anyway. You throw this, or we let them know you gave over the play book.” Grimalkin laughed, slinging his arm around Damian in a friendly gesture.

“I didn’t give you anything” Damian protested, shrugging him off as he returned to his huddle.

“Damian!” Diyar yelled. “Get in the huddle dude.”

The team looked at Damian as he walked up to the huddle. Their eyes burned into him like lasers, and secretly he was glad Coach had all their powers turned off. He shook his head as he got to the huddle; he knew exactly what it looked like. It looked like he was hanging out with an old school buddy, but not just any old school buddy, one of the fastest receivers in the conference next to Baxter. That was the trust thing Grimalkin was talking about. His words cycled through Damian's mind.

William Briggs looked at Damian and could see the turmoil facing him. “Keep your minds on the game ladies. We'll worry about the playbook bullshit later, got it?” He looked over the defensive line, specifically at Charlie Miller. “GOT IT?” he yelled.

A half-hearted chorus of yeah-yeahs was his only response.

The Flyers defense went back to the line of scrimmage, it was no surprise that the Panthers would be talking junk to them, trying to take them off guard, mess with their concentration. For some of them, it was working.

“You know D…they still call you that right, no…they don’t, it's “Dozer” now right.” Grimalkin laughed as he lined up against Damian. “It’s too bad that you're a freak, and even the freaks don’t like you. No one likes a traitor.”

“I didn’t give the play book to you!” Damian insisted.

“Think they'll buy it?” Grimalkin snapped back as Tybalt yelled hike.

Damian side stepped, letting the receiver shoot past him, only to let his anger take over him as he reached out, grabbing Grimalkin by the face mask, snatching him off his feet and slamming him into the ground.

The Panther crowd roared in disapproval at the actions of the former panther causing whistles to be blown left and right, as yellow flags peppered the sky. The Flyer crowd looked onto the field shocked at Damian as he stood over Grimalkin looking down at him.

“Damian” Hannigan yelled as he ran over to him pushing him away from the player before he did anything more. “What the hell man, you know what that’s gonna cost us!”

"Told you he'd throw the game." Miller accused.

Coach yelled for Damian to come off the field, and sent in Moamber at the corner. “Kid, you got issues, and if you can't keep them off the field, I'll keep YOU off the field. SIT” coach yelled as he pointed at the bench.

The penalty pushed the Panthers 20 yards in their favor, putting them well in field goal range. Instead, they decided to go for the touch down, playing the weak side where Moamber was. Tybalt connected with Grimalkin for a 40 yard pass into the endzone, taking the Panthers up by 6, the extra point was good, sealing it at a 7 point lead.



Panthers 17, Flyers 10

This was actually painful to watch. Bri didn't really know much about what had happened in the last couple weeks with the football team. Mostly what she could glean from the hallway chatter and pull out of Stephen and Diyar during lunch. Still there she stood leading the squad in cheer after cheer, trying hard to keep the morale of the crowd up as she watched the team struggle on the field. One thing was certain, they didn't trust each other anymore. She could see it in the plays.

If they didn't trust each other, they'd never win.

Brandon had found chains in his mind somewhere. They were forged from focus and determination, and the locks held due to his having been able to blow off some steam in the first half. The anger wasn't back in the box by any means, but he was able to ride it and direct it now.

The game was bigger than him. He had to remember that the team was how the game was won, that he was a cog. An angry, dangerous cog, with sharp teeth, but still a cog. It wouldn't do the team any good at all for him to lose his mind out there.

He wasn't done fighting at all, but he also wasn't done. He prowled the sidelines, more like a giant hunting cat than a rabid wolf now. Speed, strength, and skill: those were how the anger could get out now. He didn't care who'd leaked the play book; all that mattered was running his plays the best he could. He didn't care about whether the other team was better; his best was his best. He didn't care about the cold or the mud; shit washed off. He didn't care about the fear of the other team; that was always there, and it was just a whisper at the moment. Anger mattered. The team mattered. The Panthers were standing in the way. That was the equation.

As Brandon stalked the sidelines, a pair of cool blue eyes followed him, shot through with anger, confusion and worry. Bethany rubbed her arms to get blood flow through them again. Why did it have to be so freaking cold for football games? She wasn't even sure why she was here. She and Brandon hadn't been exactly close over the last few weeks. Barely constrained anger boiled just under the surface of their daily chatter. Small talk and idle conversations degraded into growling and yelling at each other.

But in the end he was still her brother. And she was here because this was important to him. So she sat in the stands, glancing every once in a while towards her boyfriend on the bench. But for now, she watched her brother prowl in front of the team. The look of determination on his face made her fel very, VERY sorry for the other team.

Sucks to be them.

Fourth Quarter:



The two teams squared off for the final quarter,both sides holding up four fingers to signal the upcoming. The only difference is that with the Panthers four fingers, the roar of a large cat blared through the speakers. Of course, the Flyer cheerleaders came up with a retort to the roar, as they began to chant, “Skin those cats.”

"Declaw them!" Sister Mary-Thomas yelled from her seat as she huddled beneath the blue and white blanket she'd crocheted.

Quickly the Flyer crowd picked up on the skin-the-cat chant, amplifying the demand. The moniker caused the Panther crowd to resound with an even louder "Ground the Flyers!" as the roar blared through the speakers even more.

“This is your game St. Joes!.” Coach Waters shouted over the din. “Let’s go state!”

Stephen Reed and the Flyer offensive took the field again. They wanted to catch the Panthers off guard, and barrel the ball down their throats. For three out of the four plays they did just that, moving the ball up the field nicely, tiring out the Panthers defense. Reed kept the ball to the ground, twice handing off to DuBois who gained some impressive yardage for the team. Each play ran gave the Flyers a first down, the turning play was a sweep ran to the right side. Reed pitched the ball off to Richie Anderson who fumbled the ball as he was hit by the Panthers corner as he rounded to move up the side line. Brandon Jordan saw the hit, and anticipated what might happen. As the ball left Anderson's fingertips, Jordan lunged forward for the ball. With the pigskin barely on his fingertips, Jordan fumbled and stumbled, but willed himself to regain his balance.

"Two twelve, two twelve" he chanted inside his head as he spun on his heel to keep from falling forward. With his bearings now in tact, Jordan narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth and focused on one thing - the endzone.

Baxter and DuBois flanked the tight end as he snaked his way up the field, keeping his head down and digging in hard. Baxter warded off Morris, while DuBois handled Garfield, and Jordan crossed into the endzone with his hands held high.

Coach Waters checked the clock. Less than two minutes were left. A field goal would get them a tie and bring them to overtime, but a two point conversion could win the game. He gave the play to Samantha Douglas to relay on the field, then closed his eyes and did the only thing he could. He prayed.

"Sister Mary Thomas, do your thing." He whispered.

Reed set the team up, the Panthers doing their best to stay in formation.

"Green Nine-teen! Green Nine-teen!" He called out, as Will McCarty snapped the ball back. Instead of placing the ball on the ground, Reed fell back and looked for an opening. They were going for two. Go big, or go home. Jordan was covered, and trying to break out, Baxter was his best bet. The ball was just leaving his fingertips when Garfield colided with him, offsetting the quarterback's toss. DuBois lunged for the ball, but it was just out of reach of his outstretched hands, and for a moment the crowd was silent as the ball hit the ground.


Almost immediately after, the Panthers began to celebrate. "Another One Bites the Dust" played on the loud speakers, and the Flyer fans let out a collective groan. There was only a minute left in the game, and it was the Panther's ball. All they'd have to do was down it twice, and the game was theirs.


Dejected, Bill Harrison and the defensive line took the field one last time.

"We gave it a good try." Baxter half-heartedly consoled his teammates. Ticked off at the results of the game, Harrison put his all into the kick, a kick that he ironically noticed had his best hang-time of the season. The ball was received at the Panthers 3 yard line, and an equally pissed off Biff Hannigan charged the receiver, only letting the teen gain two more yards. The defensive line eyed each other, and the team on the sidelines were on their feet.

The next play, the Panthers found themselves losing even more yardage while downing the ball, and Coach Waters white knuckle grasped his clipboard.

Anger fueled the team, adrenaline running rampant through those on the field, and off , but none moreso than Damian Singleton. With fifteen seconds left on the clock, the Prescott snapped the ball back, and Damian eyed his mark. He watched through narrow eyes almost in slow motion as Tybalt went to down the ball for the final time, and he heeded Coach Waters advice. He poured on the steam. The attack was quick and almost painful, as Dozer plowed over the Prescott quarterback from just behind the Panther one-yard line, knocking the two into the end-zone.

The clock ran out, and the referee raised both of his hands high in the air. Two point safety.

The Flyers had won the game.

FINAL: Flyers 18, Panthers 17

Brandon lay on the field, heaving, until someone picked him up. He got up just before the crush hit, and he jumped up and down with his teammates. The anger smoldered, spread around the field and guttering low in his mind. It felt good, and pure, and clear, for the first time in a long time. He allowed himself to feel good, and it felt GREAT.

He made sure to pass it on to Damien, hitting his shoulder pads while they shouted incoherently in each others' faces. Good times.

Eventually the crush eased and he was able to run to the lockers. He waved at his sister as he went, wishing that he had someone else up there also, and the anger turned uneasily in his mind. It went back to sleep, though, and he was able to focus on the upcoming party. He wasn't going to be there long, but he figured he ought to make an appearance. He had places to be, after all.

Luke was literally lounging on the bench for most of the game. Dar had refused to sit on the same bench as Luke, preferring to stand, so the blond boy was happy in having the entire seat to himself.

In all honesty, Luke wasn't too into the game in front of him. He was too busy sneaking glances at and texting his girlfriend, Beth. He grumbled as he pulled out his phone, though. He was so unused to not relying on his powers. He silently cursed at the Coach.

This went on throughout much of the game, with Luke pausing at half time to give a smug "I'm totally sleeping with your sister" grin at Brandon. The reaction was a roll of the eyes and a grunt.

When the team barely won the game, Luke didn't show his enthusiasm. Oh, yes, he was happy. There was a chance he could play next game, at State's.

But Luke simply dodged the crowds of over-excited Flyers fans and headed for the locker rooms, then home.

From the bench, Dar roared triumphantly for his teammates. Luke was on the bench not even bothering with the game...what kind of teammate goes to a rivalry game and doesn't even pay attention? Dar would've liked nothing better than to just boot Luke out of the stadium if he wasn't going to do anything.

But that didn't matter now. We had won. It didn't matter that they had lost the playbook. They had still won, despite the hindrance. Damian played well. Even if he did take the book...he didn't forsake the team in the end. As the team filed off the field, Dar clapped his hand down on Dozer's shoulder, nodding silently to him with a small smile on the corner of his lips before walking with the team back to the locker room.