Suddenly, Momomo felt dizzy. Their breathing became shallow as the starting gate at Snowflake Slope lifted and the bobsled entered the track.
“Is everything okay?” asked Momo.
“I don’t know. It’s really cold up here.”
“But you’re all bundled up. It’s just a short sprint down,” assured Mo.
“No…everything’s spinning,” said Momomo as snow kicked into their face.
The bobsled skidded to a halt as Momomomo pulled out a yellow flag. “Medical; we need team doctors now! Someone find Mimo – Momomo isn’t okay.”
Minutes earlier, Momomo and Speedy had crashed into each other toward the summit of the course, stranding the former athlete but significantly slowing down the latter. Momomo stared down Speedy as they felt the cool, tough grass poke up from the ground.
Speedy glared back, their face scarlet with rage and bewilderment. “You threw the entire race to screw me over. Was it worth it?”
Momomo exhaled softly, focusing on Speedy with a steely, cold gaze.
“And now we’re both here. We’re both out of the rolling, and it’s because of you,” scowled Speedy. “You were in my way.”
Momomo remained stationary, still enough that Speedy could see their reflection in the athlete’s green uniform, with blue and yellow streaks dancing across its curves like noodles steaming in a hotpot.
“I was born a champion. This was my destiny. You should have been eliminated before me.”
The Speeders fan section roared behind them, throwing half-eaten dumplings, broken chopsticks, and other food scraps into the arena. Momomo barely flinched as pieces of trash flew centimeters before them.
“That’s it? You have nothing to say to me? Whatever. You’ll never understand how I feel.”
Speedy stormed away, blindsiding Coach Quickly as they left the arena. Rolling to their locker room, Speedy crossed paths with several remaining survivors.
“Many marbles prayed we’d go out with the Speeders, but tough luck for them!” chided Mandarin. “Tonight we celebrate, tomorrow we win the war!”
Someone who sounded like Slimelime around the corner exclaimed: “You can’t win them all. Of course, I haven’t won any of them!” Then someone who sounded like Rezzy must have said: “I would feel bad, except I don’t. None of us like you.”
“Real champions don’t celebrate the failures of others,” Speedy would mutter back, feeling lightheaded. But it was a bright yellow athlete next to them, who seemed quite offended.
“I heard that!” said Yellah. “How about real champions take the time to say sorry for once? You didn’t say a word to Yellup when they fell off the tracks in Marbula One. You think you can pull that same attitude avoiding Momomo after you hit them like that?”
Before Speedy could snap back, the Speeders’ coach rolled into the fray and put themself between the two athletes. “Excuse us,” said Coach Quickly. “We need to talk in private.”
It was not as if Speedy wasn’t in a daze either. How much of what Speedy heard was real and how much was in their mind? As the security marbles from the Speeders organization started trickling around them, Speedy’s world looked more and more like a crimson blur.
Quickly kept the Speeders captain by their side, pushing the security marbles aside, until the Coach slammed the locker room door shut with a loud BANG.
BANG went the starter pistol on that day years ago; so had Speedy as they blasted out of the gate. A stopwatch, its button stuck at first from overuse, beeped faintly as the crimson marble with the pistol whispered to others by their side. “Yep. Still half a second behind.”
“I knew it from the moment the starting gate lifted,” said the frustrated parent. “Speedy! What are you gasping for air for? You were still too slow!”
“It’s too much…I can’t…”
“What did we talk about last night? ‘I can’t?’ — You’re banned from saying that phrase at home, so you can’t say it here either.”
“I’m sorry, I…”
“Never say sorry,” Speedy’s other parent said. “Just do better.”
Speedy heaved in oxygen as they mustered up the strength to push themself off the cold, tough training mat. They stared down the starting gate as it locked back into place and slowly rolled back towards it.
“Faster!” Speedy’s parent said. “Do you want to be a champion?”
“I’ve dreamed of it,” replied Speedy.
“You’re a liar,” said the older marble. “Rapidly would’ve finished another run by now. And they’d still be faster than you.”
Speedy’s face turned scarlet with embarrassment. They felt tears well up in their eyes but held them back, muttering, “No one understands how I feel.”
Speedy halted, gazing up at the skybox. Its lights nearly blinded the young athlete, but they could still spot the silhouettes of their parents sitting behind Rapidly, their familiar orange streak curving across their uniform like a sharp chicane across Le Course de Sauvage.
That was the last thing Speedy saw before they collapsed to the ground from exhaustion.
As the rest of the crowd left the stands, coaches Quickly and Momomomomo were still locked in conversation. “You seem good at bottling stuff up until it boils over,” inferred Momomomomo, who watched their teammate receive a note from a member of Speeders personnel.
“I guess you saw that today,” said Quickly, shrugging. “Any advice?”
Momomomomo sighed. “The past catches up on all of us eventually. Sometimes it helps to just breathe.”
Credits
- Writers: Fouc, Stynth
- Editors: Evolution, Millim, Phoenix
- Artist: Momoikkai
- Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Reference: Marble Survival 100: Races 57-63 Compilation | Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Release: 26/06/2024
Project Marblearth 