It was a bright summer day and Tom was getting ready for football practice. He liked all sports, but football was easily his favourite. Nothing came close to it. Next to football would be lacrosse, even though he still pronounced it wrong no matter how many times Tyler corrected him.
Tom pulled on his jersey and checked himself quickly in the mirror. Not because he was vain, just because he liked knowing he looked ready. He was tall for his age with slightly tanned skin and dirty blonde hair that never stayed exactly how he wanted it. He didn't really care though. On the field, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he was good. Very good.
Last game he scored six touchdowns. Five early in the match, almost effortlessly, and then another right at the end just to seal it properly. He still remembered how annoyed the other team looked. That had been the best part. Tom liked winning, but he liked knowing people expected him to win even more.
Technically, Tom was only fourteen, but that didn't mean much anymore. He played for both Under 15 and Under 16. Coach Blunt said it was because of his natural ability. Tom agreed with that. He had never really struggled to be better than most people.
Today's practice was Under 15.
He grabbed his boots from beside the bed and sat down to lace them. His room was messy, but not in a terrible way. Clothes, books, gear — everything where he could find it. He didn't see the point of being overly organised when he had more important things to think about.
Like the Cowboys.
They were playing them in two days. The Cowboys were second in the rankings, which meant they were the only team that could possibly be a problem. Tom didn't think they were better, but he wasn't stupid. They were fast and disciplined, and that combination could get dangerous.
Still, Tom hadn't lost a single game this season.
And he wasn't planning to start now.
He stood up, testing his boots. Everything felt normal, mostly. Although if he paid attention, there was a strange feeling he couldn't quite place. Not pain, not exactly. Just something slightly off. He rolled his shoulders and ignored it. Athletes always felt something. It didn't mean anything.
Downstairs, his mother was in the kitchen.
"Practice again?" she asked.
Tom poured himself a drink. "Yeah."
"You're always at practice."
"That's why we win."
She smiled a little at that. "Try not to hurt anyone."
"No promises."
Outside, the heat hit him straight away. The walk to the training field wasn't long. Normally he liked it. It gave him time to think about plays, strategies, ways to dominate the next game. But today his thoughts kept drifting without him really trying.
He noticed it, which annoyed him.
Tom didn't drift.
By the time he reached the field, the usual sounds of training filled the air. Players shouting, whistles blowing, bodies running drills. It was familiar and comfortable. This was where things made sense. Effort, reaction, results. No guessing.
Tom stepped onto the grass and scanned the field automatically. He always did that. Who looked sharp, who looked tired, who might actually be useful during the Cowboys match. He took pride in understanding the game better than most of his teammates.
But again, that strange feeling returned.
A slight dizziness.
He blinked and shook it off.
"Tom! You coming to train or are you just going to stand there?"
Coach Blunt's voice cut through his thoughts. Tom hadn't realised he'd stopped moving.
"I'm coming," he said, jogging forward.
Two days until the game.
Two days to stay perfect.
Training started like normal. Sprinting drills, passing sequences, defensive positioning. Tom moved well, but not as well as usual. His reactions felt a fraction slower. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for him to feel it.
He didn't like it.
"Hey Tom."
Tyler jogged up beside him. One of his best friends. Calm, observant, usually the voice of reason even when Tom didn't ask for one.
"You ready for the game?"
Tom hesitated slightly. "Honestly… not sure."
Tyler looked at him strangely. "Not sure? That's new."
"I don't feel right."
Tyler studied him for a second. "You've been acting weird lately."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
Tom shrugged. "Maybe I should just rest today."
Tyler's eyebrows lifted. "You hate missing practice."
"I know."
They stood there for a moment while the rest of the team continued running drills.
"But maybe it's for the better," Tom added.
Tyler nodded slowly. "See you tomorrow then."
"Yeah."
"Bye, Tom."
Tom turned toward Coach Blunt, already planning what he would say. Something simple. Headache, fatigue, whatever. He started walking across the field.
Halfway there, something changed.
The ground didn't feel steady.
Tom slowed, blinking. The sunlight suddenly seemed too bright. Sounds from the field became strangely distant, like he was hearing everything through water. His head felt heavy.
He took another step.
The dizziness worsened.
Another.
His vision began narrowing, dark edges creeping inward. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears now. Tom tried to focus on Coach Blunt, who was turning toward him.
He tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
The last thing he saw was the coach's confused expression.
Then everything went black.