Chapter 20: New Beginnings
Chapter 20: New Beginnings
The halls of the school seemed quieter today. Maybe it was because of the storm Malik had stirred the day before, or maybe it was because people were starting to get used to the idea that he was here to stay. Either way, Malik felt a shift in the air as he walked to his first class of the day.
He had been thinking about his next steps ever since lunch the day before. His reputation was already solidifying, and he knew he had the ability to do more than just show up to class and be a regular student. He wasn't here just to coast on his name—he was here to prove something. To himself. To everyone around him.
After the viral video and the buzz around his natural ability in basketball, Malik knew that signing up for a team would be a no-brainer. His skills on the court were undeniable. But he wasn't just going to stop there. Malik had always been drawn to the gridiron, the intensity of football calling to him in a way that was similar to the sharp focus of boxing that ran in his blood.
It was time to make a move.
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Later That Day—After School
Malik stood outside the gym, his eyes scanning the sign-up sheet posted on the bulletin board. There were a few names on the basketball roster already, and Malik knew his would be added to the list in no time. It was practically a formality. But it was the football team that interested him now.
His fingers traced the list of names on the football sign-up sheet. He paused for a moment, thinking. He didn't need to sign up. He didn't need to prove anything. He already knew he had the talent. But something inside him told him to do it. To show everyone that Malik Tyson wasn't just the son of a boxer—he was a force to be reckoned with in his own right.
I'm more than just a name, he thought to himself.
He grabbed a pen from his pocket and signed his name at the top of the list, next to a few familiar names. There was no turning back now.
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The Next Day—Football Tryouts
The football field smelled of fresh grass, the scent of autumn thick in the air. Malik stood at the edge of the field, watching the other players warming up. His eyes scanned their movements, sizing them up. He wasn't nervous, not in the slightest. He had played football before, back in his past life, and the skills he had were more than enough to get him through today's tryouts.
Coach Thompson, the head coach, blew his whistle, signaling the start of tryouts. Players scattered across the field, lining up for drills. Malik walked with purpose to the first drill, a group of athletes stretching and preparing to show their speed and agility. The coach noticed Malik immediately.
"You're the new kid, right?" Coach Thompson called out as Malik approached the group.
Malik nodded, his eyes focused on the players ahead of him. "Malik Tyson."
Coach Thompson raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He had seen his fair share of talented athletes walk through those gates. What set Malik apart wasn't just his size or athleticism—it was the aura of confidence around him.
"Alright, Malik," the coach said, "show us what you got. Line up over here for the first drill."
Malik stepped into position. The first drill was a sprint—simple enough, but it was meant to measure speed and endurance. Malik wasn't a sprinter by nature, but when the coach blew the whistle, he took off like a bullet from a gun.
His legs ate up the ground beneath him, and though the other players had started with a decent pace, Malik quickly left them behind. The sound of his footsteps pounding the turf was the only thing he could hear, the wind in his ears urging him to push faster, harder.
He crossed the finish line in record time, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. The coach's eyes widened as Malik jogged back toward the line.
"That was—" Coach Thompson started, but words seemed to fail him for a moment. "That was impressive. You've got speed, Tyson. More than I expected."
Malik nodded, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "That's just the warm-up."
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Later—In the Locker Room
Malik sat down on a bench, pulling his shirt over his head, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through him. His muscles were already used to this—this intensity, this drive. He was a natural, and now he was proving it.
As the other players filtered into the locker room, murmurs began. Malik could hear the whispers, feel the weight of their eyes. It wasn't just his speed that stood out—it was everything about him. His presence. His confidence. The way he carried himself, like he was born to dominate.
"Yo, you're on fire out there, Malik," one of the guys said, offering him a fist bump.
Malik returned it with ease. "Just warming up, man."
They chuckled, but the truth was clear. Malik wasn't just participating. He was claiming his place.
The coach entered the locker room shortly after, clipboard in hand, his eyes scanning the group. "Alright, everyone. Great job today. You've all shown promise, but I need to make cuts. Tyson, you're on the team. You've got a spot on both basketball and football. I expect you to bring that same energy every time you step onto the field or the court. Understand?"
Malik stood up, nodding. "I got it, Coach."
The coach gave him a firm nod before walking out of the room. Malik's teammates exchanged looks, some impressed, others a little unsure of what to make of the new kid who seemed to excel at everything. But Malik wasn't concerned about that. He wasn't here to impress anyone.
He was here to dominate.
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Later That Evening—At Home
Back in his room, Malik sat at his desk, his phone buzzing again. He glanced at it, then quickly locked it. The notifications were starting to pile up, but Malik was focused on something else.
He was preparing for the next step. The next challenge. He wasn't just going to be the son of Mike Tyson. He was going to be Malik Tyson, the name that everyone would remember for his own reasons.
Tomorrow was the first official practice for both basketball and football. And Malik was ready to make sure that no one would ever forget his name again.