As the closing ceremony concluded, the adrenaline and smell of champagne beginning to wane, the three podium sitters shared one curt glance between them and nodded before wordlessly parting paths. They had said all they needed out on the track.
Momo was the first to take their leave, nervousness clouding their mind as their bronze trophy lagged behind them. Making their way through the crowds was like returning to your old house, standing on that doorstep hoping to fix things you’d left behind.
This trophy: an apology for the wasted hope, and the selfishness, letting passion override your good judgment. They’d seen the comments, the calls for their exit from the roster, all this noise they couldn’t avoid, as if in one bad season everything they’d worked for was being put into question.
But as they reared closer to the grandstand, all they could hear was one loud uniform chant.
“MOMO! MOMO! MOMO!”
Camera flashes and waving signs, cheering and screaming intensifying as they looked up into the audience.
Welcome home.
They were wrong about everything. These marbles weren’t here to pass judgment, didn’t beg them to play it safe, stick to tradition, or chase a dream passed down from person to person, these were the people that had gotten them out of all of that.
This wasn’t an apology. This was a gift they’d brought to them, one that they’d all get to share.
Momo tried to find something else to say, mumbling something, sputtering out nothing. At the sight of their distress, the crowd began to lower their volume.
“Are you okay?” They seemed to ask, hundreds of marbles anxiously waiting for a reply.
Momo let out a shaky laugh, then lifted the trophy as high as they could, the sun making it gleam like gold.
“Thank you, guys,” they said, tears spilling freely but grinning nonetheless. “Thank you for everything.” The roar of the crowd drowned out all of that background noise.
The fans were cheering, but Speedy barely registered it, hearing only a dim echo of its true volume. Instead, playing over it was lap 13’s commentary, right in front of the grandstands, bits of the race replaying like a video reel. Pause, unpause, scroll a bit, and freeze that frame. Again. Once more.
Perhaps as exciting as running the race was picking it apart afterwards. A race was an elaborate puzzle that had to be made sense of, broken apart and reassembled over and over again, but today, it felt like a piece was missing. How exciting.
“Speedy,” Quickly nudged, snapping them back to reality. Speedy blinked.
“Pay attention and don’t say anything… unpalatable,” they muttered. Speedy grimaced. That was clearly code for “You don’t want to retake PR training for the third time, do you?“
“Right. Right,” They waved up to the sea of red, “So what do I say to them?”
“You didn’t think about that before we came over here?” Quickly strained a smile waving beside them.
“Normally it’s not me who does this.”
“Well, you better get used to it. Rapidly can’t bail you out anymore.”
They looked at the trophy hoping to find something to say, but all it did was add a new set of eyes looking back at them. Speedy suddenly felt singled out in a way that they haven’t felt in nearly a decade.
“You see this?” They lifted up their prize. “This is only the first one! Everybody take a good hard look at it because this is the one that’s starting us off!” Impulsively, they tossed the prize into the crowd, earning them a glare from Quickly.
Still, it satisfied the audience. Reinvigorated by the promise for more, they passed the trophy among them, from old fans to new. Speedy watched carefully as it made its rounds. Some from their second championship, others from their first, and most memorable were those from before any of the Marble League stuff, fans who hadn’t known them by their name but a variety of monikers – Wunderkind, Rising Star, the Prodigy of Accellaise.
As the trophy made its way back to them, the grandstand was alight, yet the whole thing felt empty even with the increase in noise. The silver now standing next to them hogging up space, a missing piece.
Maybe if it were golden, Speedy thought, searching the crowds hoping to catch the one who’d run off with it.
The screams were deafening, but exhilarating. Cloudy raised up their new trophy, letting the sounds of elation replace the last dredges of adrenaline in them.
They should be happy. They were happy; there was a sea of gray in the grandstands celebrating the Hazers’ first win in a year. Still shaking with triumph, they gazed over their fans, even spotting a few familiar faces. But for a moment, Cloudy remembered the fans as they were a few months ago, their expressions twisted in disgust and disappointment under the overcast skies of Draklin.
One misstep, and they’ll turn on you.
Cloudy blinked, trying to clear the thought from their mind. The trophy they held suddenly felt heavier. They’re here to support you, Cloudy had to remind themselves as they approached the stands. They wouldn’t suddenly stop, they believed in them! It wasn’t naïve to think like that, it couldn’t be, so why was it so unsettling?
They navigated through the crowd anyway, trying to ignore their unease. Hoping their smile didn’t look forced, Cloudy managed to sign a few autographs before preoccupying themselves with the team tradition of dodging reporters. Repetitive was an understatement: despite their best efforts, they received seventeen “cloud nine” puns before they finally evaded the last of the press.
Solitude. No crowd, no noise. No fans in front of them to disappoint, no journalists there to twist their words, just themselves. Alone, Cloudy withdrew two worn notebooks – their teammates’ last gift to them – and recalled an echo of some months-old conversation.
“‘The past isn’t important.’ That’s what we’ve always operated on. This isn’t any different.”
Ironic, then, that it was their guidance aiding Cloudy’s victory today.
“Me? I’m breaking my promise.”
“Smoggy –”
“Hey, listen. No matter what happens, we’ll be proud of you.”
All their dreams. Everything Hazy and Smoggy entrusted to them. They were going to make it happen.
Credits
- Writers: Thinkdoodler, Toffeeshop
- Editor: GhostDM
- Photographer: Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Reference: Marbula One S4 GP1 Razzway RACE – Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Release: 05/05/2023
Project Marblearth 