Having finally finished with the post-race circus, Blue Moon flopped onto the grass with a yawn. The gloomy skies had given way to alternating clumps of sun and cloud, periodically lightening and darkening the air around them.
Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Summer Sky wading across the meadow in their direction and sat up. Blue Moon waved as the lighter blue marble drew closer.
“I was just going to say congratulations on your first win,” Summer Sky said. The sun somehow glinted off of them at the perfect angle. “You looked great out there today battling it out at the front – but if you’re busy, I won’t bother you.”
“I’m not,” Blue Moon reassured. “Thanks, though, and same to you. You made that climb back to the front look effortless.”
It was Summer Sky’s turn to be flustered by praise. “Any plans to commemorate your first gold?” they asked, trying to deflect. Blue Moon shuffled awkwardly.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get here,” they admitted sheepishly. “So I never thought about what I’d do either. I think the tradition is to be loud and go to a party? Personally I’d rather take a nap, but I’d probably get sunburnt.” Blue Moon squinted up at the drifting clouds. “Actually…it’s a good temperature for ice cream. Know any places?”
Their search led them to a local parlor who’d looked as though it hadn’t changed its décor since it opened thirty years ago. Blue Moon was delighted to see they sold their namesake ice cream, while Summer Sky settled for their award-winning vanilla in lieu of their preferred mango flavor.
“So that’s who designed your uniform,” said Summer Sky. “I talked with them last week! I can’t believe I never connected the dots.”
Blue Moon nodded, carving out another spoonful of their ice cream. It had come with crescent and star-shaped sprinkles. “I figured if anyone knew them, it’d be you or Lollipop. But enough about me. What were you up to during the offseason?”
“Oh, the usual, like you,” they replied vaguely. “I spent some time with Grasshopper; that was nice. Y’know,” they said, changing the subject, “I think Quicksilver would like this place. Maybe it’d even cheer them up! I wonder what they’re up to…”
A race day that ended with the race itself was rare. Press duty for the podium-sitters was followed with crowds of fans hanging around the sandhills, looking for autographs, or just a word with the racers. Debriefings and post-race consulting with trainers and management followed, as did any informal discussions between competitors. On a good day, everything finished two hours after the last Rallyist crossed the line. With lines of young marbles spilling out from the entrance, today was unlikely to be a good day.
“Think you could stick around and do the meet-and-greets with us? Those kids love you, gato, and I’ll pay you back,” pleaded El Capitan. Though they tried to keep an even keel to their tone, both had seen the scenes outside, and their words were underwritten with a subtle desperation. CCE remained unmoved.
“Afraid not. I have plans with Wisp of Darkness, and we can’t both be late.” Punctuating their unwillingness, they rolled backwards while keeping level gaze with El Capitan, whose face curdled with frustration.
“Wisp of Darkness!?” they groaned. “You don’t even like Wisp of Darkness!”
CCE grinned. “I like anyone who’s paying for my dinner,” they corrected. “Best of luck out there, though.” They backed away fully, and El Capitan watched helplessly as they vanished over the horizon.
Back amongst the crowd, Pollo Loco had taken responsibility for wrangling the attendant fans. That El Capitan returned to anything short of complete anarchy was a testament to their crowd management. But Pollo Loco made it look effortless, each of the bright-eyed young marbles queued up in an orderly fashion and hanging on their every word. Whenever one received their autograph, they departed cleanly and were swiftly replaced by whoever was behind them.
“Impressive,” remarked El Capitan, nudging Pollo Loco approvingly. Another young marble wriggled to the front of the queue.
Pollo Loco smiled nonchalantly. “It’s nothin’, really,” they laughed as they brought the next attendee closer. “What’s your name, kid?”
“I dunno,” they squeaked. Pollo Loco and El Capitan exchanged a confused glance between them. “Hey, can you guess who my uniform is based on? It’s my favourite racer!” It was red and yellow in equal parts, streaked with white and green.
“Phoenix?” ventured Pollo Loco.
“Nuh-uh.”
“It’s Rastafarian, isn’t it?” concluded El Capitan.
That too was countered with a nuh-uh– and a callout from Quicksilver, who had been observing unnoticed from a distance.
“The kid doesn’t look anything like either of them,” laughed Quicksilver. “Phoenix? Seriously?”
El Capitan took a sharp breath. “Very well. But if you’re so sure of yourself, you’ll have the right answer, yes?”
For a moment Quicksilver was caught off guard. “How should I know?” they grumbled. “But if you want my opinion that badly, they look like a mix of the two of you.”
El Capitan huffed. “Hardly an answer-”
“Yay!” exclaimed the young marble, hopping up and down. “You got it! You’re both my favorites!”
Quicksilver had already vanished, leaving El Capitan and Pollo Loco to turn to each other.
“Well, I’ll be,” El Capitan mumbled.
“Lookin’ good, kid,” added Pollo Loco.
Credits
- Writers: Millim, Toffeeshop
- Copyeditor/Editor: Evolution
- Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Reference: Marble Rally Season 7 Round 4 | Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Release: 16/07/2024
Project Marblearth 