One track in the Marble Rally can change fortunes, and wouldn’t H2 Blue know it: two back-to-back races at Doornse Gat led to two medals. The rallyist finished first just an hour ago, and the thrill of victory still coursed through them.
All this energy, they thought, had to be shaken off: they had to act a tad normal ahead of all the schmoozing and media hits in the rest of the evening. They already sprinted up the sand dunes to an outlook over the rally track. From there, all alone, they began to sing:
A gold gives me warmth, a bronze’s not much worse,
But only two, no big deal, I want more!
I want to roll where the champions are,
I want to race down mountains and valleys –
“Hey! Are you the real H2 Blue?” said a high-pitched voice behind the rallyist. A little flushed, H2 Blue turned to see a little marble about half their size.
“This is so crazy! I don’t know if you saw me, but I was watching you from that island halfway through! You were going so fast! I’ve never seen anyone like you!”
“Oh, well… I was just in the moment there,” replied H2 Blue. “If you practice and train yourself, you can be just as fast as me.”
“Oh, but I don’t know!” said the young fan. “I was there with my best friend, and they said you’re fast because you’re really special. My friend said you have superpowers. Is that really true?”
“Well, the real world doesn’t work that way!” chuckled H2 Blue. The rallyist followed up with an offer to take the fan back to their parents.
Yet, strolling down together back to the track, the fan couldn’t stop thinking: what if H2 Blue really is different?
In any given Marble Rally season, there was only ever one constant: press conferences running over and making everyone late. Fine if you were a reporter trying to squeeze another question in – unideal if you had a dinner reservation with Superball that evening.
In the time Lollipop had spent running behind, Superball had filled their table with sheets of paper, then filled those sheets of paper with line after line of inscrutable calculations. Inscrutable to Lollipop, at least – Superball was so absorbed in them that Lollipop’s arrival went unnoticed until they spoke.
“Sorry I’m late.” They’d texted Superball to that effect earlier too, but it never hurt to be polite. “Working on something?”
“Just permutations.” They handed Lollipop one particularly dense sheet. “These are for my win odds.”
A waiter placed down a starter each as Lollipop read the calcs. Superball only ever ordered their favorite, spinach anchovy dip with toasted sourdough, and Lollipop would eat whatever, so they’d probably ordered in advance. Today’s fried crab cakes were an indulgence fit for a win.
“Yeah? How are they?” asked Lollipop eventually, fruitless attempts to understand put to rest by the complaints of an empty stomach.
“Slightly less than two percent, give-or-take,” hummed Superball.
Hearing that stung a little. Superball hadn’t pointed it out, but they definitely knew it; their odds to win had never been so low so close to the final.
Lollipop nudged them encouragingly across the table. “Yeah, but you’re Superball. Numbers can’t account for that.”
“Well, maybe…” they mused. “But I don’t know if that can bail me out anymore. Things have changed. I might not even make the top four.”
“Supes, I-”
“That’s why I think you could beat me this season. You’re only six points back, after all, and you were in perfect form today.” They sounded almost enthused about the prospect.
Lollipop chuckled to themself. After all this time, Superball never stopped surprising them. “We’re optimistic about each other, then? That could work.”
Amidst the swarm of marbles, Big Pearl’s phone buzzed, a welcome distraction from the reporters around them.
sorru
best result all seasn yknow?
Further up the text history was a typo-riddled confirmation to meet up for dinner. Big Pearl raised an eyebrow and squinted at the growing crowd, which hadn’t shown the faintest sign of reduction, and decided to go bail them out.
Spotting them was easy. It was just a matter of getting there without losing track of them, a task that would be much simpler if Big Pearl’s heart didn’t melt every time a watery-eyed young marble stopped them for an autograph.
“Are you gonna win?” the child asked as Big Pearl uncapped a marker.
“I’m going to do my best,” they replied, handing the paper back. Their signature shimmered with a nacre finish. As they watched the young marble dash away, they caught a flash of red in their periphery.
“Ghost,” Big Pearl called, stepping through the crowd in their direction, and halted.
It was the wrong red marble. The crowd parted slightly to make room for the impromptu standoff.
“Pearl!” greeted El Capitan. “How’s it going?” Their boisterous cordiality was strained.
“Good.” Big Pearl’s attempt fell even flatter.
The two stared at each other, both unwilling to budge as the sound of camera shutters began to drown out the gossip around them. No doubt this was going to get plastered on every other sports article this week, Big Pearl thought, with a headline like ‘Showdown at High Noon’ even though it’s six in the evening. So be it. They stared down El Capitan even harder.
“Yo, ‘Cap!”
The tension snapped. Pollo Loco strutted onto the scene, giving El Capitan a friendly bump. “There you are! C’mon, I booked us a table at ‘The Time and Tide.’ It’ll be great.” As they continued, Big Pearl took the opportunity to slip back into the crowd.
Unaware of what had just transpired, the bronze medalist was waving goodbye to a final fan as their friend approached.
“Hey, Ghost.” Big Pearl’s expression was unreadable. “Could you tell Dragon to cancel that reservation?”
“Huh? But you like seafood.”
“I want to go somewhere else tonight. Please.”
Credits
- Writers: Fouc, Millim, Toffeeshop
- Copyeditors/Editors: Evolution, Millim
- Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Reference: Marble Rally S7: Round 7 | Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Release: 26/07/2024
Project Marblearth 