As the Arizonan sun lowered further beyond the horizon, a scorching football field held only a handful of people at Desert Christian High. The day's scheduled practice had ended, but there were still those who remained for extracurricular training, and while the sky darkened, the heat barely lessened.
Joseph Fale, poised in his three-point stance, was a massive lump of ferocity and aggression. Only sixteen, the U.S. born Samoan already had a dark patch of tattoos stretching down his shoulder. Beneath his helmet, dark eyes glinted dangerously, locked on his prey. Sweat clung to his body and dripped from his flared nose.
Fortunately for the prey, it was an unfeeling training dummy, but with the power of Joseph's imagination, Wesley Walker's visage was imposed over the red rubber.
A whistle shrieked like a battle-cry and Joseph charged. His first step was a violent burst of motion, and with terrifying speed and agility for someone his size, he slipped under burly arms, slapped aside a thick hand, and curled around his attempted blocker. He was so low to the ground he was almost sliding on his knees.
He straightened, kept the dummy in his sights, and speared it into the ground like he was trying to break it in half. It had been weighed down, but still he'd carried it several yards before slamming it.
He pushed himself up, dusted off, and looked around at his coaches. 'Again.' More a command than a request.
The dummy was hauled back into position, and Joseph lined up opposite the man who was acting as an Offensive Tackle. The O-Line coach wasn't a small man by any margin, but Joseph matched him despite being half his age. There weren't any greys in the thick head of hair Coach Matthews had, and his arms still had good muscle mass. He wasn't in the same shape he'd been when he was playing D1, but he hadn't let himself go. The strength remained, and so did a burning intensity in his eyes, like he was about to play a championship game himself.
Joseph matched his stare.
The whistle roared. Joseph shot forward. This time he didn't arc as low, didn't swat the hands away. He jammed his own hands into the coach's chest, taking advantage of the man's fear. Joseph caught him mid kick-stride—he'd elongated it to secure the edge, scared of Joseph's speed.
With the extra space from the shove, Joseph slipped through the opening on the inside and murdered the dummy with another spear.
His speed wasn't the scary thing about him, but neither was his strength. It was the explosive combination you got when you mixed them together that made Joseph such a monster.
He stood six feet and one inch tall, over two-hundred and twenty-five pounds. Whilst his birthday had only been last week, he already had the body of a man grown; he was still growing, he still had more fat to convert into muscle.
Joseph didn't think himself arrogant—though he knew he wasn't humble either—but he thought it was clear he was the most accomplished, prolific, and scariest sophomore in the country, let alone the state. However, there was another strong sophomore not too far from him.
Shane Spearhead wasn't just the captain of the Arcadia Titans—their anchor on defence and their engine on offence—he was their bleeding heart. Joseph would show the world how dangerous he was and prove that not even Shane could stand up to him.
Around the otherwise empty practice field, the Eagles' coaches watched Joseph, nodding approvingly. He was more than ready. They couldn't imagine a wall Joseph couldn't break down.
Like any great player, he led the team by example, and his teammates, even if they were his senior, fell in line and modelled their game after him. Coach Lipp—the Coach Lipp—didn't even think it was a conscious choice people made.
Having been a part of coaching staffs at every level of the game, from Pee Wee to the NFL, he'd only seen the phenomena in high-school football. He thought it was because the boys were still that, boys, and were still malleable, still easily influenced, but at the same time, the stars of the level shone brightly enough to form their own identity and draw others to them.
Over the past two years, the team had changed, piece by piece, from slow-paced and methodical, using wit and strategy as their main weapons, to a savage, relentless animal, one that tore their opponents apart with brute force and speed.
It was a coach's job to adapt to such changes when they found a player like Joseph, and Coach Lipp thought he'd done a fine job of that so far. The State championship would be the true test, and if they passed, Joseph could showcase his talents on the national stage. It was Coach Lipp's duty to give him that opportunity.
He couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the people standing in their way, and namely, Wesley Walker.
Joseph was still raring to go—he could train all day and never grow tired or bored—but before he could set up for the next showdown, a woman walked onto the field.
She was a large, chubby woman with a radiant smile and a flowing floral dress. Her dark hair fell in waves about her chest, and at her heels were two little girls, neither a day older than ten years of age, each barefoot and in their own loose dress. The girls rushed to Joseph's side.
In an instant, a smile warped Joseph's face from intimidating monster to a sweet, giant gentle. He bent down, scooping his little sisters up into his arms, cradling them carefully as they giggled. The sharp teeth he displayed in his cheerful grin looked odd in such a sincere expression.
The coaches gave his mother a polite wave and greeting. She apologised for taking their "Shining Star" away whilst they were all hard at work, but even stars needed to rest sometimes. Then she went over and hugged her son after he'd set his sisters down. She wasn't a small woman, but Joseph still towered over her.
As the family left the field—after Joseph had thanked all the coaches who'd stayed behind to help him get in some extra practice—Coach Lipp once again thought about how thankful he was that Joseph was on their side.
The family packed into their SUV, and as they peeled out of the carpark, Joseph turned to his mother. 'Momma, I really think we gonna win State this team. You know, the State champions go into a national tournament this year.'
She kept her eyes on the road, but a smile tugged the corners of her mouth up. He was as giddy as a boy, and she couldn't count all times he'd told her about the National championship and how badly he wanted to win it.
'I reckon we'd get a lot of sponsors just from winning State,' he continued, 'but winning Nationals, there'd have to be some prize money in that, wouldn't there, Momma?'
Her smile curdled. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Still a boy, no matter how big he'd grown, yet he was trying to talk like the man of the house, worrying about money.
'I think the tournaments sound like a lot of fun,' she said, 'even if there's no money for winning it. What's most important is that my little man has fun.' Without looking, she reached over and pinched his cheek. It felt like every time she did it, there was less to grab.
'The money's important, too, Momma. … It wouldn't be if you let me take that job with Uncle E.'
Waiting at a stop sign, she turned and glared at him fully. 'Nuh-uh. We've TALKED about this, Joseph. You're not getting a job. You need to focus all your effort on football and your schoolwork. I won't hear any more about working on your uncle's construction sites.'
Joseph's shoulders sunk in on themselves, like a giant, sulking kid. They'd had the argument countless times, even going back to enrolling him in a private Christian school had brought about a similar argument. Joseph knew he couldn't change her mind, no matter what. That seemed like the only obstacle he couldn't overcome in life.
'Yes, Momma,' he said. 'I'll only think about school and football.'
Giggles emanated from the backseat. Joseph turned back to his sisters, scowling at them for a moment. He couldn't stay mad at the girls—and their expressions of feigned innocence, like the giggles had come from thin air—for long, however. He grinned at them and they returned it with two straight, bright grins of their own.
Joseph sat back in his seat, thinking of his little sisters. There was another baby girl waiting back home, as well as one older than he, and two younger brothers nearing high-school age to cap it all off.
Yet not one of his half a dozen siblings had teeth like his. His were monstrous, shark-like. He'd long since come to grips with the oddity, and though he'd never run into another person with teeth like his, that was fine.
Some thought it made him a beast, was what made him so fast and strong. Maybe his dad had been some monster, but Joseph doubted that. Momma had never said anything about his father having sharp teeth.
It didn't matter. What mattered was the rest of his family. Even if he was the odd one out, they were still his family, and it was his responsibility as the oldest man to take care of them. That's what he played for, that's why he fought so hard.
He didn't share anywhere near as close a bond with his teammates, but he knew they were invaluable. He couldn't do it without them. He did his best to lead by example, like any good man should, and so far it'd worked well for them.
His mind wondered to the Titans. His date with them drew ever nearer. No doubt there were members of the Titans who fought just as hard for their families as Joseph did his. No doubt they had dreams just like his, and many reasons for wanting—no, NEEDING—to win, just like him. But he couldn't spare them any sympathy, not when he had a job to do. Not when he had to make his family proud.
It was always hard to end someone's dream, and Joseph didn't like how the more it happened, the less effect the opposing team's tears had on him. Just because he had the teeth of one, didn't mean he had to be a monster. And just because he had to beat them, didn't mean he had to hate his enemies. He knew they were human, just like him.
As the car crested over a speed bump, the cross dangling from a necklace of beads hanging around the rear-view mirror caught Joseph's eye. He signed the cross over his head and heart, and looked skyward, uttering a small prayer for the Titans.
He had a job to do, and he'd crush ANYONE who got in his way.