The Marble Queen

by Stephanie J. Blake

  “Go on and watch the television, and let me think.”

  I watched The Dick Clark Show with Higgie. He didn’t ask what was going on. Mama banged things around in the kitchen. It smelled like the casserole had dried up in the pan. She talked to Aunt Janie on the phone twice. Finally, I saw headlights flash across the wall of the living room. I ran to the front window. Mama came in and said, “Get away from there, Freedom Jane!”

  Higgie called, “Daddy, Daddy!”

  But it was only Uncle Mort at the door. His skin looked gray under the porch light. A blood-soaked bandage was stuck to his forehead, and he had some paperwork in his hands.

  I waited for Daddy, but he didn’t appear. Mama asked, “Where is he?”

  Uncle Mort whispered, “Jail.”

  Mama gasped. Then she pressed her lips together. I knew Daddy was in big trouble. I waited to see what Mama would say next. She stared at the carpet and asked Uncle Mort, “Are you hungry? Let’s get something in your stomach.”

  Uncle Mort’s eyes were real shiny, and I smelled beer when he passed by. In the kitchen, Higgie climbed up on his knee. Every now and then, Uncle Mort gave him a bounce. I just stood there, waiting for someone to tell me something.

  “It was the darndest thing,” Uncle Mort said. “The car had a mind of its own.”

  Mama tied on an apron and fluttered awkwardly around the kitchen like a butterfly with one wing. She handed Uncle Mort a glass of water. I was confused. I couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t yelling again. As she went to put on the coffee, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Who’s taking me to the movies?” I shouted. “That’s what I want to know!”

  Mama shushed me. Uncle Mort shook his head. “You can’t go tonight,” he said.

  “But Daddy promised.”

  “I’m sorry,” Uncle Mort said. “He’ll have to take you another time. What a shame, too. It looks like you had your hair done special.”

  Mama put a plate of burnt casserole in front of Uncle Mort. She slapped another plate down for Higgie and said, “Have some, Freedom.”

  She put a plate in front of me before I could respond. I couldn’t stop staring at Uncle Mort. He was shoveling food into his mouth. It felt like I’d never seen him before in my life.

  Uncle Mort stopped eating. “What’s the matter?”

  I crossed my arms. I was so mad I could spit rocks. “It was the last night to see Sleeping Beauty at the drive-in. And you’ve ruined it.” I stomped my foot. “I never get to do anything I want to do!”

  “Freedom Jane McKenzie!” Mama said. “Apologize right now!”

  “I won’t. He’s drunk. I smell it. He and Daddy are two peas in a pod. I’ve heard you say it!”

  “I did not!” Mama said.

  “It’s true!” I ran to my room and threw myself on my bed. I heard Uncle Mort leave. I lay there with tears streaming down my face.

  How was I supposed to tell everyone at school about Sleeping Beauty when I’d missed the whole thing?

  Later, Mama came in to put Higgie to bed. He got all settled in and whispered to me, “What’s wrong, Freedom?”

  “None of your business,” I mumbled.

  Mama sat on the edge of my bed. I kept my eyes closed. She stroked my cheek. “I’m sorry about your daddy. He doesn’t mean to mess things up.”

  “But he’s in jail because he messed up awful big tonight. Right?”

  Mama sat very still. She cradled her belly. “Yes. And I hope he’ll learn a lesson this time.”

  I wasn’t sure that he would, but I couldn’t help wondering, “Do you think he had anything to eat? Do you think he’s cold?”

  She whispered, “I’m sure Daddy’s asleep by now.” Mama rose and smoothed out my covers. The tiredness in her eyes told me to stop asking questions. The floor creaked under her as she crept out of my room. She stopped in the doorway. “Everything’s going to look better in the morning. You’ll see.”

  That’s just it. I couldn’t see how things would be okay at all. My daddy used to say that he loved me more than anything. But, at that moment, I knew he couldn’t possibly love me more than beer. And that’s the truth. There was one more question I had to ask. I took a deep breath and whispered, “Mama?”

  The hall light made a halo around Mama’s hair. “Yes, Freedom?”

  “Is Daddy a drunk?”

  Mama’s lips barely moved when she whispered, “Yes.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Swallowing Marbles

  OCTOBER 16, 1959

  It’s no secret around town how Daddy wrecked the Chevy. He keeps saying he’s going to join the alcoholic’s group that meets at the Catholic church on the edge of town, but I haven’t seen him do it yet. He’s still drinking a beer—or three—with his supper. And he is still bowling on Tuesdays with Uncle Mort, coming in later than ever.

  He had to see a judge about all the trouble he got in and pay for his fines. He was issued a ticket for reckless driving and also got a talking-to at work. He’d gone over to the Wilsons’ on Canal Avenue for a house call, and Mrs. Wilson wouldn’t let Daddy in. She said she didn’t want a criminal working on her television picture tube and to send someone else.

  Mama told Aunt Janie that some people need to mind their own business. She doesn’t want anyone else to talk badly about our family. Just her. She’s been calling Daddy a “jailbird.”

  The morning he got out of jail, he brought home a single red rose for Mama. She said, “If you think a flower is going to make up for last night, you’ve got another think coming.”

  She put it in water, though. “Your little girl’s heart is broken over that movie she missed.” Mama pointed to me.

  When Daddy saw my poodle hair, he said, “Oh, Willie. What’d you go and cut her hair off for?”

  Mama told him I’d asked for the permanent. I didn’t argue with her. I didn’t feel like talking.

  Daddy pulled a caboose from his pocket for Higgie’s train set. And I got another dumb Barbie doll. This one has brown hair, and she’s wearing the exact same zebra-striped bathing suit as my other Barbie. I had to say thank you. But I barely whispered it, so I didn’t mean it.

  All Mama said was “Freedom, you’re in quite a mood.”

  I was in a mood. A permanent mood. Daddy didn’t even mention the movie.

  This week we got a new old car. The Chevy got towed to the junkyard because it couldn’t be fixed. Daddy bought a DeSoto. It’s puke green, and inside it smells of rotten knockwurst and cigarette butts. Every time Daddy turns off the engine, the new old car rumbles and shakes like a dragon. I’m waiting for the neighbors to complain to Mama. That would serve Daddy right. Higgie loves the backseat because it’s big enough for both of us to lie down side by side. I’ll never like that car.

  I miss the Chevy.

  We bought the DeSoto from the used car man two towns over because Daddy didn’t trust Nancy’s father to sell him a good car. Nancy’s been out of school for two days since her mother’s been in the hospital with pneumonia. She’s been staying at her daddy’s apartment. And I’m not allowed to play over there. I’m glad, because her daddy gives me the shivers.

  At school, the kids have been talking about how wild Homer McKenzie is. I can’t stand it. I’ve been eating my lunch alone. Even an A− on my arithmetic test didn’t make me feel any better about things.

  It was too cold to play outside tonight, so Higgie and I were watching this new cowboy show Bonanza on the color television that Daddy brought home. He traded the lawn mower for it with some man who’d bought a bigger television for his wife. I don’t know what Daddy is going to do next summer without a lawn mower.

  “We’ll get a goat,” Daddy said. Mama rolled her eyes.

  Secretly, Mama is pleased. The new television has a record player in the same cabinet. She shined the cabinet with furniture polish and put a white doily on top to hide the scratches. She’s been dusting it twice a day. We must be the last ones on the street to get a color TV�
��except for Daniel and Mrs. Zierk.

  Daddy was out, so I was supposed to keep an eye on Higgie while Mama baked a lemon meringue pie.

  No, she didn’t want my help, thank you. And I wasn’t to run through the kitchen, either, or else the meringue would fall.

  Higgie lay on the floor, chewing on the end of his crummy old blanket, eyes glued to the screen. Every once in a while, he stuck a finger in his nose and left it there. I had already colored with him in his ratty old coloring book. I rocked in the fuzzy green rocker. We got it with some of Grandma McKenzie’s things when she passed.

  That chair is the best invention in the world, next to the color television. Sometimes I’ll spin Higgie around and around. I stop when his eyes get crossed. He’ll say he’s going to throw up, and I know it’s my turn. The chair is ugly as all get-out, but when you’re in it, you don’t notice that.

  I pressed the round green buttons on the fabric and pretended to be the first woman astronaut rocketing through space. I counted down to liftoff: “Five, four, three, two, one...”

  Every time I leaned back for takeoff, the springs under my bottom went brrriing!

  I spied one of my cat’s-eye marbles, lost under the couch. So much had been going on, I hadn’t dared to ask Mama about getting my pouch back. I jumped from the chair and grabbed it. I scrambled up before Higgie could steal my seat from me. But his eyes never left the program. Higgie gets that way around a television set.

  If only I had two marbles. It would only take two to practice for the competition.

  Mama stuck her head into the living room just then, and I don’t know why, but I popped the cat’s-eye into my mouth and pretended I was scratching my stomach.

  Mama said, “Stop rocking so hard on that chair. You’re going to break it.”

  I should’ve spit the marble out the minute Mama went back into the kitchen, but instead I moved the cat’s-eye around in my mouth with my tongue. It was cold and smooth like Mama’s pearls. It didn’t taste very good, either, but it still felt good in my mouth.

  If Mama knew I had a marble, would she take it from me? Could I use my single marble to play with the boys and win a whole bunch? Maybe Daniel would let me borrow some of his marbles. I thought about asking Esau for some. Whenever he’s nearby, I can feel his eyes on me.

  I sat back and rocked, rolling that marble around with my tongue as I watched the TV. I got caught up in the show and laughed.

  I must have laughed too hard, because I sucked that cat’s-eye right into my windpipe. My eyes went wide when I realized I couldn’t breathe. Just when I thought I was going to choke to death, I swallowed it.

  Afterward, I sat real still. I blinked a couple of times and swallowed again. The cat’s-eye was gone. It was probably already on its way to my belly. I got hot all over. I wasn’t sure whether to tell Mama or not. Chances were good that I’d be in big trouble if I told her. But what would happen to the marble if I didn’t tell her?

  I might die.

  For sure I’d have no marbles, again.

  I remembered the time Higgie stuck a pebble in his ear. He had to be put to sleep at the hospital before the doctor pulled it out with tiny tweezers. He didn’t get into trouble at all. Mama told everyone that her bitty baby was lucky he wasn’t deaf. And she hugged him over and over when he woke up in the hospital. He even got ice cream.

  I decided I’d better tell her.

  When I went into the kitchen, she was taking the pie from the oven. The meringue was high with perfectly golden brown peaks. It looked like a picture in a magazine. I waited until she set it on top of the stove before I said, “Mama?”

  “Don’t move,” she told me.

  I froze. The meringue stayed high.

  “What is it, Freedom?”

  “Mama...I’ve swallowed a marble.”

  She hollered a swear word that I’d never heard and dropped her oven mitts. She picked up the telephone and called Mike’s Pub, tapping her foot while she waited for Daddy to come to the phone.

  When he did, she yelled into the receiver, “Come home!”

  You know what she did next? Mama sat down at the table and had a good cry. She sobbed into a dish towel while I stood there. She went on and on. I didn’t know what else to do, so I went back to the living room and waited.

  By the time Daddy got home, Mama had me wrapped up in a blanket, tight as a mummy. I couldn’t have held her hand if I’d wanted to. Daddy picked up Higgie and put him in the front of the DeSoto while Mama and I sat in the back.

  We’ve never driven so fast.

  It turned out they couldn’t do much for me at the hospital. I had to take two big old spoonfuls of castor oil. And I didn’t get to drink a Dr Pepper afterward to cut the oily taste. Then Doc Brooks sent us back home to “see if it shows up.” He told Mama to watch my stool for it. I don’t know how watching the step stool in the kitchen is going to help.

  Aunt Janie and Uncle Mort came over. Aunt Janie brought a tuna casserole. Nobody was talking much. Uncle Mort paced around the living room.

  Daddy tucked me into bed with a hot-water bottle for my tummy. He pulled the covers up around me. “Your mama’s gone to bed.”

  I felt bad for making her worry. Mama’s already been upset about the bills from Daddy’s accident. They all ate a quiet supper without me. I didn’t even get a piece of Mama’s perfect pie.

  Mama had talked all the way home about why I had a marble in my mouth in the first place. That’s one of those hard questions that grown-ups ask. I still don’t know the right answer.

  She said, “I was thinking about letting you play in that silly marble competition, but I’ve decided that you are never going to see a marble again.”

  I know my marble pouch is probably in the top drawer of Mama’s dresser. That’s where she keeps everything that she takes from Higgie.

  Someday soon I’ll get it back. And when I do, I’m going to win my beautiful blue taw from Jacob Meanie. And become the Marble Queen of Idaho Falls.

  No matter what Mama says.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Winner Takes All

  OCTOBER 22, 1959

  Doc Brooks was right. The cat’s-eye showed up, three days later. Let’s just say, it’s better off in the trash now.

  While Mama was making awful lumpy oatmeal for breakfast, I made a decision. I had only three weeks to get ready for the marble competition. And I couldn’t do it without my marbles.

  Before I knew it, I’d sneaked into Mama’s room and grabbed my pouch out of her drawer. I guess I was “bound and determined,” like Mama always says.

  I promised myself as soon as I was done with them I’d put the marbles right back. I needed to practice shooting, and the only way to do it was to push my way into a game after school—if the boys were even playing anymore.

  Fifth grade really is a whole lot harder than fourth. Just when I think things are all right between me and Mrs. Thompson, some kind of trouble comes up. Last week she thought I wasn’t keeping my eyes on my own spelling test. She made me stand at the blackboard for fifteen minutes with my nose in the circle she’d drawn.

  And today the whole class got into trouble because of our lousy vocabulary lesson. Nobody could spell the words she’d assigned this week. All twenty-seven of us had to stay after school and write the list of ten words over again. Who needs to know how to spell splendor, anyhow?

  On the way out I said to Nancy, “I’m going to try to get into a marble game at the park. Want to come?”

  She shook her head. “I wish I could. My mother is finally feeling better, but she still needs my help at home.”

  It was quarter to four by the time I made it over to Highland Park. I figured I wouldn’t be fibbing if I told Mama I had to stay after school.

  The wind was strong, and the leaves were twirling around on the sidewalk under my feet. I shivered in my thin jacket, wondering if I should’ve worn the woolly long underwear that Mama had laid out on the bed for me in the morning. But long underwea
r always rolls down, and it itches like crazy. It was back home, shoved under my pillow.

  The boys were there milling around, and I could tell by all the pushing and name-calling that whatever game they’d just finished hadn’t gone well.

  When Jacob saw me, he said, “Look, it’s Poodle Girl.”

  I patted my hair. It was getting longer, but it was still pretty poufy.

  Daniel wasn’t wearing a coat. He wouldn’t look at me. I thought about all the times he’d sat in my kitchen eating Mama’s cooking. Didn’t he miss me at all?

  I looked at Esau, who was smiling.

  “Anyone want to play some Ringer?” I asked.

  Wally Biscotti said, “You can’t play!” He was wearing a coat that was two sizes too big. You could barely see his hands.

  I put my hands on my hips just like Mama does. “And why not?”

  “The new rule is that girls can’t play. Ever again.” He spit into the dirt.

  I stuck my chin in the air. “Well, I started the marble season with you boys, and I aim to finish it. Who wants to throw lag?”

  Daniel looked up. “Nope. You can’t play.”

  “Besides, we’re already done for the day,” said Wally.

  “Come on. Please?” I knew I sounded whiny.

  “Why don’t we put it to a vote?” Esau suggested.

  The boys huddled together, whispering and chuckling until I was ready to scream.

  Finally, Esau said, “Sorry, Freedom. It was four to one. Besides, everyone is pretty much out of good marbles. They’re all chipped up from playing Bombsies. Except for some of mine. And I’m saving those for the Autumn Jubilee.”

  Anthony was jumping up and down, trying to stay warm. “I’m ready to go home.”

  “Who cares about marbles anyway?” said Daniel. “I’m done with them. I got a football for my birthday. A real leather one. Let’s go over to my yard and play catch.”

  Wally Biscotti’s fat cheeks were bright red from the wind. “Naw, it’s too cold.”