amongst the players, but they know better than to interrupt Coach.
“What did you think? Your parents pay for your education, not sports. Royal Elite is all about academics. The only reason they indulge with a few sports teams is because they want to promote that the school isn’t all about nerdy, snobbish teenagers. Are we or are we not going to prove to them that we breathe football?”
“We are!”
“Are we or are we not going to win the schools’ championship this year?”
“We are!”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“We. Are!”
“Captain.” Coach stops in front of me with a dark look.
He doesn’t approve of the way I’m leading the team since the finals’ loss in July, but he also knows I’m the reason they’re in check. He might be the strategist, but I’m the leader of the troops on the field. Besides, he trusts I won’t allow anything to screw this up. We both want that championship.
“I need results.”
“You will get them, Sir.”
Still standing in front of me, he points at Daniel, one of the benching players. “Good game, Sterling. You held the fort.”
He smirks in that cocky way that half sports’ players have.
Coach moves to Chris who’s standing beside me and gives him a harsh glare. “Vans. You’re out of the startup line next game.” He throws a look over his shoulder at the opposite team. “Astor, you’re in. Show me what you got, boy.”
“Yes, Coach!” Ronan grins like a goofball.
Coach Larson heads into the locker with his assistant coaches and the medical trainer trailing after him.
Chris lunges forward, to start a scene with Coach, no doubt.
I stand in his way, blocking his path. He’s like a bull, eyes black and jaw clenching. I hit my shoulder against his and shake my head.
“Fuck this, King!” He spits out. “I won’t give up my position for a second year.”
“Maybe you should’ve played better, huh?” Ronan waggles his eyebrows.
My gaze meets my cousin Aiden’s bored one and I say in a levelled tone, “Take him away.”
“Naw.” Ronan jumps in place, ducking on his own. “Come at me, bro.”
“Ronan,” I warn. He’s treating it as fun and games, but Chris is volatile as shit right now.
And most of the time, really.
Aiden clutches Ronan’s arm while Xander pushes him from the other side.
“Just to be clear,” Xander, a striker and a little wanker, throws over his shoulder. “This has been long overdue, Chris. You don’t deserve a place on the team since the summer.”
Aiden offers me a knowing look before he, Xander, Ronan, and Cole stalk to the locker rooms.
They’re nicknamed the four horsemen because whenever they’re on the field, they bring conquest, war, famine, and eventually death.
I call them the four fuckers.
Aiden, Xander, and Cole snatched their positions from the seniors. Ronan is the last to join.
The rest of the second-year players follow Aiden and his band of thieves. I might be the captain, but if they had to choose, they’ll probably take the ‘young’ King’s side.
Chris continues lunging forward like a train losing its course. Zach and Alex, two seniors, try to pull him back, but it’s like he’s on RedBull — or fucking drugs judging from his performance.
I swing my fist and punch him in the chest. He stops with stupefaction written all over his face. The rest of the senior players and the freshmen watch for my reaction, unblinking.
“What the fuck was that for?” Chris spits out.
“For losing your place.”
“It was Coach, he —”
I get in his face. “Did Coach play with your legs? Did he let Aiden score the first and lose the ball to Xander so he can score the second? Did he leave the defence like a pathetic deserted land?”
“Well, no, but —”
“No buts, Chris.” I point a finger at his chest. “You’ve been playing like shit since the quarterfinal game and during summer camp. If you don’t snatch your place back from Ronan, you’re out. For. Fucking. Good. I don’t need half-wits on my team.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m not listening anymore. The rest of the players part as I make my way to the showers.
Christopher and I are friends. Maybe not exactly friends, but colleagues. We both liked the high of alcohol, cigarettes and girls.
We’ve been rebels against our last names and families.
I loathe my uncle and he hates his uptight father who’s the metropolitan police’s deputy commissioner. Chris and I found each other on detention when we were juniors and bonded.
If there’s trouble, we shit all over it. Both of us live for