Chapter 11: Sworn Brothers

When Bryan first moved to the suburbs of Avesta, he was bored out of his mind and hated it. There was a city twenty miles down the highway that was home to the cultural center of the region. The city contained movie theaters, shopping malls, a football stadium and baseball park, paintball fields, laser tag, and hundreds of beautiful teenage girls. The suburban town, on the other hand, had fewer than a thousand people, a movie theater, a recreation center, and a field. And it was far enough away from the city that Bryan couldn't get there during the hours his single mother was at work. Ironically, she worked in the city but opted to commute because the traffic wasn't all that bad and the cost of living was much lower in the suburbs.

High school wasn't a whole lot better. The female half of the student body was incredibly average, although there was the occasional flower he spotted blooming above and beyond the rest. The football team was lackluster at best, and even the marching band had only enough members for the marching show to go from a period to a comma to an apostrophe to a hyphen. Bryan was planning to talk to the coach and discuss joining the football team anyway, mostly because that would help kill time after school.

But perhaps the most memorable thing he saw came on the first day of school during seventh period. He had already claimed his spot by the window and plopped down in the chair when the teacher opened the door to the classroom… and got hit in the head with a wet sponge. Not only was the sponge wet, it was soapy, leaking down her head onto the black sweater she wore over a white blouse. The teacher—a defenseless woman with thick-framed glasses and a classic updo—spent a moment in shock before she dismissed herself and made her way to the bathroom.

Rumblings started throughout the students in the classroom. When everyone finished laughing, the next step was to figure out who did it. Nobody saw anyone put the sponge up there, and no one even knew where the sponge came from. Not everyone laughed, but certainly the majority did; unless it was a group job, laughter wasn't a good clue. Bryan laughed, too, but he knew he wasn't responsible.

There was one student in the classroom whose reaction to the event was less than surprised. At first, there was an almost uniform gasp from every student in the room such that Bryan's ears popped, then the laughter started while everyone was still tense. One small boy, however, didn't crack a grin until after everyone else stopped laughing. Bryan kept that to himself, but he took note of the boy so he could talk to him after class: The boy was a head-and-a-half shorter than Bryan, maybe half his weight, and had thin-framed glasses.

The teacher eventually came back less the sweater and with her curly hair wet and pulled back into a ponytail. She got through most of the lesson and acted as if the prank didn't bother her. She did give a worksheet as homework, even on the first day, to make up for the delay. Now everyone was upset about the prank.

Bryan hurried out of the class when he saw the short suspect leave, but by the time Bryan followed everyone else through the narrow doorway, he lost sight of the short kid. He didn't concern himself too much with it, though, because he knew he'd see the kid again eventually. Instead, he had to go talk to the football coach about a chance to try out.

Coach Taylor was just about the only guy out there who looked like a football player. He was the kind of guy who could easily find himself leading a talented group of high school kids to a state championship year after year, but he apparently upset someone in a past life and found himself stuck at this tiny high school coaching kids with some talent and a lot of mediocrity. In reality, his wife was a business woman in the city and made big money, but she enjoyed what she did so much that Coach Taylor couldn't bear to ask her to move just so he could coach a bigger school.

And that's why Bryan got a tryout on the spot. When the other players emerged from the locker room in full training pads and jerseys, they found Coach Taylor talking to Bryan, a guy who was already almost as tall as the six-foot coach.

"You've obviously got the size," Coach Taylor commented to Bryan. "You're about… what? Five-ten, two hundred pounds?"

"Yeah."

Coach Taylor immediately replied firmly, "Yes." He was correcting Bryan's language early. "The last word out of your mouth will always be 'coach.' You got that?"

Bryan was able to push aside his smugness and answer, "Yes, Coach."

"Good. We'll give you a trial run for today. Go talk to Coach Gene over there and get some pads. After practice, we'll go to the weight room and see what you can do there." Bryan was excited about that part. His mom got him a gym membership at their previous residence to give him someplace constructive to go after school, and he spent almost two years learning how to use the weight room equipment from a few of the fitness instructors. That's where most of his size came from already.

"Yes, Coach."

Some of the other players were hesitant to let Bryan come in for fear that he would take over their roles, but most of those fears were easily tossed aside when the players learned that Bryan was a freshman. Bryan was only granted the late tryout because he just moved into town; however, even freshmen with appropriate size and talent can make the team once he proves himself.

Even Bryan had to admit, practice was tough. He got to run a number of plays at the running back and wide receiver positions, taking some really big hits every time. He got to inflict a little bit of return damage on the few plays he tried on defense, first as a lineman and then as a safety. The most annoying part about being a running back was when this one short kid—who alternated between wide receiver and defensive end—spun right around the entire offensive line and plowed into Bryan, taking him straight to the ground. Bryan took note of the fact that this tiny guy everyone called Luther was perhaps the strongest guy out there relative to his size.

By the time Bryan got to the weight room, he felt like he was going to break something if he tried to lift another pound. When he got through with a set of bench press, squats, dead lifts, and power cleans, he sat down on one of the benches and felt like he'd never get back up.

Coach Taylor nodded at him before saying, "You be here first thing in the morning. Seven a.m. sharp, you got it?"

"Yes, Coach," he replied reluctantly. What Bryan didn't realize was that Coach Taylor wore him out during practice on purpose just to see how much Bryan could push himself in the weight room. The fact that Bryan reached 120% of his body weight on every lift when he was exhausted showed Coach Taylor that Bryan had the determination necessary to prove himself as a player. After the first day, he was already impressed with Bryan.

In the morning, Bryan was surprised to find he wasn't the first person there. The short guy from the prank was already in the weight room doing leg extensions. He recognized the guy both from class and from practice, when he kept slamming people into the ground.

"Hey, Luther."

The guy looked at him, but he merely nodded and kept lifting.

Bryan talked to Coach Taylor for a few minutes about what positions he might like to try for. Then the coach gave Bryan a workout to complete that morning and introduced him to Matthew Luther, one of the other freshman players.

"He's short, but you felt it yesterday that he's got a lot of punch." The coach couldn't say anything about it out loud yet, but he was pretty certain Luther would be a starting defensive end and probably double as a wide receiver on offense. He also had ideas to put Bryan on the field as a line backer if he could keep up the pace he set yesterday.

"You're new," Matt said, as if Bryan didn't know that already.

"Nothing gets by you." With an extra grin, he suggested, "Then you must know who pulled that prank with the sponge."

"No idea," he said curtly. He patted the bench press bar and asked, "How much?"

"I'll warm up with 125." Bryan stretched for a moment and lay down to complete a quick set of bench presses. "You didn't pull that prank?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't care who did it. Time for a second set."

Bryan decided to drop the topic for the moment. Matt was being a little smug, but he was interesting, so why spoil his fun? Bryan upped the weight on the bar by fifty pounds and pushed out another set.

"Can you handle this much weight?"

Matt scoffed and pushed him out of the way. He settled on the bench and proceeded to lift the bar straight off the holds to squeeze off eight reps before putting the weight back.

"That's impressive. How much do you weigh?"

"One-twenty. But I can tackle anybody."

"I believe it. I'm still sore from when you hit me yesterday."

"It'll last a week if you're lucky."

"A week? You really think you're that strong?"

"I know where to hit people," Matt explained. "I plan to force at least ten fumbles a game this year if I get the defensive end spot."

"You think you're Dwight Freeney?" He's a defensive end for the Indianapolis Colts and a leader in the NFL in sacks and forced fumbles. "I guess that makes me Gary Brackett." He's a Colts line backer. Bryan loaded another fifty pounds on the bar and squeezed out six reps. Matt finally cracked a grin.

"Okay, Knight. Let's finish that workout."

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Bryan and Matt continued to train together every morning in the weight room. Bryan proved himself the standout player on the practice field. His size gave him force, his height gave him intimidation, and his determination is why it took three senior defensive players to tackle him on a running play. Coach Taylor saw no better choice than to make Bryan the starting running back, though he planned to alternate Bryan and his senior running back as a sort of one-two punch.

During the first game, Bryan was the most productive player on the team. Despite the way his offensive line frequently folded under the weight of the stronger players from the Valley high school, he managed to run a hundred yards and three touchdowns. On defense, he snagged two interceptions and made eight tackles. Even though Matt was fairly productive with six sacks and six tackles, he wasn't able to force the fumbles he wanted. He did, though, get sixty receiving yards. With a final victory score of 35-32, it was one of the most impressive season openers their little high school ever had.

Bryan and Matt became closer when they decided that the two of them were basically the heart of the entire football team. It wasn't until the third week of school when another teacher was hit with a prank that Bryan wondered what Matt's thing was. He was certain Matt was responsible, even if he wouldn't admit it, but this time, the victim was not a teacher of any classes Matt took. She pulled down a world map on one of those curtain-like rolls attached to the wall when a cloud of chalk dust covered her head and torso.

"Seriously," Bryan muttered. "You did it, didn't you?"

Matt barely cracked a grin. "What possible gain could I get from pranking a teacher when I couldn't even be there to see it?"

"My guess is you get off on just playing pranks," Bryan answered. "I can't think of any other reason. You couldn't possibly have seen this one, and you barely even seemed to notice the sponge. You obviously don't care about getting credit and you don't care about seeing their reactions. Honestly, I'm not even sure how you set it all up without getting caught."

Matt's grin got a little bit wider. "Maybe it wasn't me." He never did come right out and admit responsibility, or that he enjoys the challenge of the setup.

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By the mid-point of the football season, after the first quarter exams, Bryan finally invited Matt home with him so he could introduce his mother. Jackie Knight was very friendly and motherly, and she was especially grateful that Bryan and Matt seemed to click so soon after moving to town. Bryan told her about how Matt was the other useful player on the football team and was the one helping Bryan train and carry out his real, solid workout routine; Bryan helped Matt grow stronger and Matt helped Bryan grow faster.

Jackie was a big fan of Matt's. He was extremely helpful around the house—uncharacteristically so, as far as Bryan knew. He always helped clean the kitchen after dinner and offered his help when Jackie wanted to complete a project around the house. Matt must have stayed over for dinner two dozen times before Bryan realized he'd never even met Matt's parents. When he asked, Matt simply told him that his home wasn't the kind of place to which one invites company.

Bryan accepted that answer until the Homecoming game of their sophomore year. He convinced a few cheerleaders to go with him early in the morning and surprise Matt before school. When they found Matt's house, they were a little surprised to see how tiny and dilapidated it looked. The house wasn't terrible, but the paint job was horrid and there were holes in the porch deck. Even the porch swing was only attached on one side. Broken toys and beer bottles were strewn all over the yard. At least four young voices could be heard inside the house, which also suffered a few windows with cardboard taped over broken panes.

"I had no idea Matt lived in a place like this," spoke one of the cheerleaders. "All of a sudden, I feel really bad for him."

"He'll be excited to see us," Bryan decided. "But leave out the part about feeling bad for him. He hates that."

The front door was sitting open and though the screen door was closed, there was very little screen in it. Bryan stepped through the gaping hole in the wire, but the cheerleaders were much more hesitant; they stepped through as carefully as if they were tip-toeing through toxic waste. The front room of the house was in wild disarray, but most notable were the faces glued to the TV. Bryan counted six kids ranging in age from four to thirteen, "supervised"—in the loosest of terms—by an overweight man wearing a tank top that revealed a beer gut big enough to carry triplets. He was unshaven, had long and chipped fingernails, and seemed to be foaming at the mouth while he slept with a couch growing out of the back of his head and a beer bottle stuck to each hand.

"No wonder he never invited me over," Bryan uttered.

The group waited for a moment in the living room, but when no one even flinched or looked up at them, Bryan decided to find Matt's room without help. He led the cheerleaders up the stairs to a very narrow hallway. One door was ajar, barely revealing a naked woman sleeping facedown on a stained mattress with one leg hanging over the end. The cheerleaders commented on the hygiene of it. Bryan just looked into the only three other rooms on the floor; one was a bathroom and the others were bedrooms that looked like military barracks. Bunk beds piled to the ceiling in both rooms and clothes could hardly be contained by the closets. It didn't take a lot of creativity to imagine why Matt spent so much time out of the house.

There was one twelve-year-old girl in one of the rooms who was sitting in a bed reading instead of watching TV with everyone else. One of the cheerleaders noticed her and said a cautious "hi."

"You don't look like social workers," the girl said.

"Good guess," Bryan replied. "We're friends of Matt's. I'm guessing he's not around."

"Good guess," the girl repeated. "If he's not at the high school weight room, he's probably on one of the basketball courts. Personally, I'll be at the library as soon as it opens in an hour." That was a shocking response considering the condition of her roommates.

"Wow. You seem really different from the zombies in front of the TV," a cheerleader suggested. "Are you Matt's sister?"

"None of us is related. We're all adopted by a couple of freeloaders who love tax breaks and take just enough care of us to keep the social services away. Matt hates being here because he's the only one the old man physically abuses. Of course, he gets over it all so quickly that there's never any proof; that's why the old guy gets away with it and only beats him."

"How awful."

The girl just shrugged. "What are you gonna do? Adapt and move on."

Bryan was impressed the girl was so nonchalant about the issue. She seemed perfectly healthy, though—even cute enough to hit on if she were a little older. She buried her nose right back in that book and ignored the intruders; she already told them where they could find Matt, after all, and what could they possibly want to steal from this house?

On the way out of the house, the cheerleaders screamed when a beer bottle exploded on the door. The sleeping beast awoke from the couch and saw four unknown people walking through his living room. Angrily, he threw a bottle in an attempt to capture and wound the intruders. He started grumbling something unintelligible while he struggled to sit up. Bryan pushed the cheerleaders out the door and joined them in running from the house as quickly as they could manage.

Bryan found Matt at the school library before the first bell rang. He told him that he and some cheerleaders wanted to surprise him at his house, then apologized for going there even though he wasn't invited.

"It's okay," Matt replied. "But that's why I never introduced you."

"We spoke to a girl who was actually reading. I assume you and she actually get along because she was wearing one of your shirts."

"That's Lindsay, the only one I actually see as a sister. If I didn't think she'd be the one to pay for it, I'd have run away years ago. She's actually intelligent and has goals in life." He chuckled and said, "She's even the one who convinced me to join the football team. She said the discipline would be good for me and give me a form of relief that doesn't involve playing pranks; she obviously doesn't know what drunken football players do after games." Remembering a certain incident involving a truck sitting in the parking lot wheels-up, Bryan chuckled at that comment.

"I was adopted when I was nine. At first I was thrilled because I wouldn't have to be alone anymore, but they just wanted me for the tax break and indentured service. Maybe I'm so short because the old guy breathes in more smoke than oxygen."

"But you're really strong and healthy, so I guess things could be worse."

"Constant physical labor will do that. Anyway, now that I'm old enough to do things on my own and people appreciate my efforts on the football field, I spend as much time out of the house as possible. I've even been known to fall asleep in the library or the rec center."

Bryan wasn't really sure how to respond to that; he simply offered, "You're always welcome to stay at my house. My mom likes you and our couch is actually pretty comfortable. Maybe my mom can adopt you and we can be like brothers."

"I think that's more complicated than you realize. As long as the old guy doesn't want to let go of me, and he continues to make himself look like a decent human being to social services, he doesn't have to."

"Well then, we'll just be sworn brothers." He offered his hand.

Matt smiled at the thought of having that kind of loyalty to someone he actually liked and got along with. He took Bryan's handshake and agreed: "Sworn brothers."

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In July right before their senior year in high school, Bryan came to Matt with a deck of cards and a look of excitement on his face. They weren't regular playing cards; they all had pictures and descriptions on them and they were of a variety of colors.

"They're Duel Monsters cards," he said. "My uncle bought them off a guy in Japan and thought I'd like to have them. He knows I do crossword puzzles and thought this would be a cool strategy game for me to learn."

"I've heard of that game. I watched a match of it on TV one time to figure out what it was about. It seemed like a decent game."

"Did you know they play with holograms?"

"Yes. That was pretty cool."

Bryan showed Matt his new cards and said, "I can't wait to see these babies as holograms."

Matt looked through the deck, mentally comparing these cards to the ones he remembered seeing on TV. "Elemental Heroes? They seem pretty weak."

"My uncle said they've got enormous potential."

"Are you sure he didn't just say that because he figured he was getting a cheap deck of cards that he could substitute for your birthday and/or Christmas present?"

Bryan laughed. "One of these days, maybe you'll learn to be less pessimistic. We've got to get you some cards so we can duel with one another."

"With what money? The old guy isn't exactly the charitable type when it comes to things I ask for like books with words or blankets without holes."

"That is a problem. And I assume you're still using your work money to fund your get-out-of-town account for graduation." Matt confessed he was. "Maybe we can get in on some Poker games." Matt wasn't sure what that meant. "Some of the other players hold Poker games with fair frequency, even some in the city with some very rich people. We scrounge up the buy-in money for each of us, then we both take all their money and split it. We can use the money for more Duel Monsters cards, and we'll even pool our card collections so all the cards belong to both of us."

Matt mulled over the thought for a while. It had promise; he was certainly skilled enough to beat a bunch of football players at Poker. And it wouldn't be the first time he'd seen gambling used as a source of supplemental income; his adoptive father used to play poker with some of his drunken buddies.

That's how Matt and Bryan ended up with two thousand dollars to spend on their first pool of dueling cards. They bought dozens of booster packs at first, then stopped to do some research on their favorite cards before going further. When they had some idea about specific cards they wanted to add to their decks, they bought a whole lot of specific cards to throw into the pool.

By the time August rolled around, Bryan's first-place victory at the regional summer tournament earned him an invitation to apply to Duel Academy. He shared the recruiting materials with his sworn brother in an effort to convince him to apply. Fortunately, Duel Academy has solid educators for a general knowledge degree or else Matt wouldn't give it a second thought; he thought it was silly to devote his entire education to a card game.

"Are you kidding me? If I tripled the money I saved and got student loans suitable for the old guy's tax bracket, I'd still owe ten thousand per semester. There's no way I'll ever be able to afford it."

"Maybe you can get a scholarship. You've led a pretty destitute life, and scholarship programs eat up stories like that. Besides, you're pretty eloquent when you spend the time to pick your words carefully. I bet you'd be a cinch to get someone else to pay for you."

Matt kept reading the recruiting pamphlet. "What about this part that says only kids who win a regional tournament or better are even eligible to apply?"

Bryan looked at the brochure disappointed. "Oh, yeah. Well, there's still the winter regional tournament. You could probably win that if we find you a deck you like. We'd have to hurry, though."

"What's wrong with the Elemental Hero deck? Not the one you use, but that other one we built."

"Neos? You think you can win with that one?"

"I guess we'll find out come December. I've got a decent GPA and a few extracurricular activities, but I'd better get cracking on sounding poor and pathetic and in need of money. I wonder if sending a picture of my house would help sell my point."

"Maybe you should include a completed crossword puzzle so they know you're not some idiot football jock who spontaneously decided to start dueling one day."

"It was a spontaneous decision."

"Yeah, but you're not just some football jock; you're the only duelist who can compete with me."

I figured a little background into the relationship these guys have wasn't completely unwarranted. I know there wasn't a lot of action in this one (a TV show would actually show highlights from the football game), but I'll make it up by throwing two duels into the next chapter. The first duel will be the one everyone knew would happen eventually: Bryan vs. Matt. Who do you think will win?