The Marble Champion

The Marble Champion

Summer time was upon me again when school finished. Long hours of sleep, time to play all day long, and busy afternoons spent spilling dripping ice cream on newly bought shirts. Sidewalks would be covered again in children; the girls from across the street would be enjoying hop scotch and jacks. The boys, me included, would be rolling around on new shiny bikes and holding many marble tournaments. I even had my first marble competition scheduled against Billy McKee tomorrow and one against James Huddarth the day after. On this block I was the marble champ, no one could, simple put, beat me. At the end of summer, which I’d rather not think about, only one exciting thing happened, we had the town competition, where each neighborhood would pick two kids, a boy and a girl, to compete against other neighborhoods. Even from other neighborhoods no one could beat me, the invincible. My neighborhood was sprayed with children, in every nook and cranny you’d find at least one child having adventures of their own or hiding from the seeker.
The house next door was empty, not a lonely sort of emptiness, just empty. The old owner had died about a year ago and it had been on sale since. The front lawn was neatly trimmed by the neighborhood because we wanted our block to be nice and prim. During the day and in the evening no lights would turn on although many kids rumored that lights sprang on and off from time to time. They used to say that there was a ghost living in it, the haunted spirit of the old owner. That thought however was abandoned, like a lone island in the middle of the ocean, when Devin Keith was dared to go into the house at midnight.
It was last summer, he was dared by some of the older kids who said that he was a baby because he was always neat and tidy and never played roughly. They said he was afraid to get hurt. One day he spoke up to them, said he ain’t afraid of nothing and that they were just mean bullies. They set a dare on him; I’ll bet ya millions of dollars that they were afraid of the old house, and told him to go into the house at midnight. They followed him, watched him go in and left him there. The following morning he looked just as he used to although his face was covered in smugness, obviously proud at his major accomplishment.
Anyway, when I woke up in the morning this summer the old, bent, and crooked for sale sign had disappeared and a light shone within one of its windows. The neighborhood kids came to inspect the new comers. We huddled together, creating a plan. We would go in twos, the first pair would see if the people were friendly. If not they would quickly return so that they wouldn’t get hurt and tell us the news. If they were awful, mean, and wicked we would have to drive them insane and send them out. That’s what we did to the Webbers.
Mrs. Webber had the most fearful fright of spiders, cockroaches, and anything that had more than four legs. We found this out one hot, summer afternoon. The ants and spiders were squirming on the ground. Many entered everyone’s house and we were creating new plans to get rid of them when a loud scream pierced the air. We couldn’t think of anything other than spiders and cockroaches to frighten her. She was the easiest to devise a plan for and to scare her away. Mr. Webber would get all annoyed and fearfully grumpy without his morning paper and coffee. This we discovered on a winter morning when a blizzard hung in the air. The paperboy couldn’t deliver the paper this early morn’ and when Mr. Webber found out he walked fiercely to the boy’s house and ordered for his paper. He went home satisfied with a paper in hand but gave himself away as an easy target to aim at and shoo away. Their son, “Mr.” fancy and arrogant and thinks he’s so good, was the hardest to drive away. He would come out the door with his head high and wouldn’t respond to anyone unless he was called “Mr.” and so behind his back and after we called him “Mr.” we would whisper “Mr.” fancy and arrogant and thinks he’s so good. He thought he was the best at riding a bicycle and when he fell he said it was deliberate. He tried to show how he was the best at marbles but I beat him at every game.
This sends me back to my point. The first pair consisted of Devin Keith and Billy McKee. They left, we had a dramatic parting saying things like I hope you get out of this one alive and all sorts of nonsense. They left out of sight and didn’t return for what seemed like hours and hours. We were all creating stories out of our imaginations on what happened to them when they appeared in front of us with cool lemonade and some cookies. They waved their hand in encouragement for us to come along and as we followed them to the once haunted house we saw a nice lady standing at the doorway. She seemed friendly and nice enough but what’s that old cliché? Never judge a person by their cover? This ran through my head. Maybe she was an evil witch who had put a spell on Dev and Bill to drag us into her lair where she’d put us all in ovens and eats us for dinner like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.
However, when we came close enough she handed us all glasses of lemonade and trays of cookies. But, something scary ran through my head, instead of ovens she would poison us. Some kids eagerly ate their cookies and gulped down their lemonade. However the more experienced ones such as me kept our mouths shut to see what would happen to the little children. Would they fall dead? Would they faint? Of course none of that happened and soon I was quickly draining the lemonade and swallowing the cookies to the last crumb.
A girl appeared next to the good tempered lady. She was different than the lady, who was obviously her mother although more noticeable to be so in her actions than her appearance. Her mother wasn’t either tall or short or fat or thin. The lady’s hair was a light brown shade and eyes were blue. On the other hand the girl was definitely short for her age and had hair of red and eyes of green. She sort of hid shyly behind her mother watching the neighborhood kids drinking the drink and eating the food while sitting on the curb and on the sidewalk and lawn.
When we all finished the mother introduced herself and said we could call Catherine Lutheran or just plain Cathy. It was the first time an adult had told us to call them by their first name and we were all shocked as though she had committed a deadly sin. She also introduced her daughter as Melanie. Melanie smiled a little and everyone beamed back. We always, this is rule number one, allow new kids in but if they do not abide by other rules they would “pay”. We then described the rules of the neighborhood children. She laughed when we told her stories about exciting events and dangerous plots. She in return revealed her old neighborhood which had very little children and many seniors.
We taught her some games we played and she shared some games she picked up that we didn’t know, which were few. She said the only game she was good at was marbles which shocked the girls and surprised the boys. She asked if we played it here and we said the boys do. She laughed at that and replied, “I guess I’ll be playing more with the boys then.” Overall she was good hearted and fun to be around. She soon brought out her marble collection, showing off the pretty ones and hiding the rubbish, ugly ones. We were amazed at how many there were and many of the boys were scheduling games against her including me. I was to play her on Friday, three days from today.
Friday came around quickly; I had watched other matches and saw that she was fairly good. She had won all her games and I had won all of mine. The sun shone through my window and I leaped out of bed, ready for a day of good fun. I snatched my bag of marbles from my desk and sprung down stairs, taking the steps in pairs. By the time I had breakfast and brushed my teeth all the kids were outside. Tim Jones was drawing a circle in the dirt, for he was the neighborhood’s renowned artist and could draw perfect circles in one master stroke.
I kneeled at one side of the ring next to Meli as we called her. Her hair was parted perfectly down the center and tied in two small buns on the side of her head. These were wrapped in lacy red ribbon. She wore a green frock with white polka dots scattered on it. A white apron lined her neckline and a white sash tied her waist. Her bag of marbles was fuller than the day we met her for she had gained several from the other boys. It was white with a red and black string tied in a bow and knot around the top to keep it closed. My bag was black and creamy white stripped with a draw string to pull it closed. I pulled the strings and poured out my marbles as she poured out hers.
I went first and she went second. Many eyes were watching to see the outcome of the game. We were tied by half an hour. The minutes ticked by, dramatically one marble hit another and the opponent would gain a marble. Soon her pile was larger than mine. She had a determined, concentrated look upon her face when she flicked each ball across the ring. Alex stood above us, his blond hair matted to his head and his eyes intently on each marble. He announced the game because he was a great orator, a word we picked up from Jiminy the street’s kid brainiest. We said someday that Alex would become a great king or president and give amazing speeches. He even wore a red, felt, crown resembling hat. Frustration was painted on my face when I saw that she was going to win.
Was my champion position going to be taken by a girl? Was I going to be a lousy marble player? My stripped shirt was soaked with sweat and my hands became sweaty so that I no longer could flick the marble well.
Soon the game was over, I had lost all my marbles but she generously gave some of them back, which is against marble playing tradition. She was supposed to keep them all, but she told me when I started to protest, “It’s only a game right?” From that moment on the neighborhood devised a new rule. The neighborhood would have a King and Queen in each event. So she became Marble Queen and I Marble King and we shared the glory equally as good comrades and opponents.
The end of summer drew quickly near, many of us did not want to count the days until school began again, but as I said before the most exciting part of the summer is the Neighborhoods Marble Competition. It was obvious that Meli and I were going to play. We practiced hard against each other because we were the only ones that had trouble beating the other. I sometimes one and she did too. 3 days to go… 2 days… tomorrow was the game.
The morning was as good as all marble mornings get, sun high, wind low, and rain gone. I whistled a tune that I had learned from Mac the block’s musician as a grabbed my back and rushed outside. Meli was waiting on her front porch and greeted me when we walked towards town center. Most of the kids walked with us and so did some adults. When we got there hula hoops were used as rings and the competitors stood in a line
Meli and I quickly joined the line and exchanged a few words of good luck. By noon Meli had one all her games and so did I. My bag was crammed full of new marbles. The final match for each of us soon came. I was going against Andrew Kimly from Fritter road, and Meli against Sandra Tiffiny from Astor street.
The last shot, I HAD WON……………… Meli was still playing but it was obvious that we would both win.
My BLOCK HAD WOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We each got trophies to bring home. Now it was the King and Queen of Marbles, both invincible by any who challenged them.