A Pocket Full Of Marbles

Learning how to tie the marble lantern knot was life changing for Matt, a skinny ten-year-old adept games player, gambler and risk assessor. Useful skills for growing up in the back streets of Southsea.

Before his dad Mike, had gone back to sea the last time, he’d spent his three week leave mostly in their loft, on a mission. Mike was used to order and had first built cupboards into the eaves for Christmas Decorations, Uniforms and Miscellaneous. All labelled of course in his beautifully inked calligraphy. He’d boarded over the orange froth of insulation after fitting a pair of long skylights to the roof. As they opened on command to a clear night sky, a telescope on a viewing stand pivoted into position so that the star gazing could begin. Then came the retractable games tables, each unfolding from sets of shelves filled with miniature soldiers and monsters or cards or dice and more. Finally, the remaining tech, lighting web connection and screens.

They had played together every Thursday evening since, regardless of Mike’s location, until they couldn’t. Dad time was a hard habit for Matt to break, and nearly two years later he often found himself up in his attic on a Thursday evening. Now he played against an ai generated version of Mike, gently tweaked so that Mike won, now and again. Ai ai Captain as he was affectionately known.

Mostly school was an easy ride for Matt. He found it odd though, how time appeared to slow down as he passed through the security screen into Winter Road junior school zapping his phone connectivity. Real human interaction was so chilled in comparison to his digital world that he felt he could almost always read someone’s next move. People were predictable, Matt determined, they reactively responded in predetermined ways.

Various games came and went in popularity, mostly those that didn’t rely on screens. Pupils pockets were often rammed with a deck of cards, or a bunch of marbles and IOU notes for cashing out on the way home. Matts winning ways made him a target. With his pockets full of marbles and phone waiting to be shaken out of his shorts by Jeff and Dave, the apes.

Game playing with gambling raised the beat during breaks in his school day. With his infectious grin, Matt would raise his arm above his head to spin his pitch, then throw down the cord circle on receiving a nod from a challenger. As the bets raised, so did the voices of watching crowds, egging them on. They played fast, the crowd on noisy countdown between moves. Matt encouraged it, knowing how the pressure could distract his opponent and help lead him to his almost inevitable win. At the finish there was normally a handshake facilitating the passing of the IOU, to be cashed in using paymate on their phone outside the school gate.

That is why Jeff and Dave, two thick, brutal ingrates had to be dealt with.  Their primary skill appeared to be taking out camera lenses of the school security system, well, any security system that might compromise them really. Their attack just at the school gate one Thursday was life changing for Matt. He’d just grabbed his phone from his bag when the bullies stepped out from their position directly in front of the tall red brick pillars of the school entrance grabbed a leg and arm each, turned him upside and shook him hard til marbles, cards and ious scattered. His phone hit the ground, cracking its screen whilst bystanders filmed his humiliation. Laughing and happy with their expected social media ratings spike, they dropped Matt to the ground stamped on his phone and whooped their way to their lair and cigarettes.

The time had come to learn how to get himself out of trouble decided Matt, wondering how he would get into his house without his phone. He settled on the backdoor key still lurking in the garden shed somewhere, at least I can wait in there ‘til Mum gets back he decided. Salt laden drizzle intensified as he dragged himself home.

Just before Mike had gone back to sea, he and Matt were up in the attic just putting the last of his tools back in the trunk when Matt pulled out an old book tucked into the strap of the lid. His Dad had smiled and told him that his father had given it to him for his 9^th birthday and he’d spent all of his spare time for months afterward practising with bits of string tying all the knots in it, til his Mum was fed up with finding them everywhere around the house and banished his knot tying efforts to the shed. ‘You should give it a try’ he’d laughed,’ a good knot can get you out of all kinds of trouble.’

His Mum looked tired when she got back from her shift at QA hospital on the hill. Playing down the troubles of his day. Matt made his way to the attic as soon as he could, to dig out the Knot book and start the process of getting himself out of trouble. He whipped through the first half dozen knots in the book, including reef and bowline and butterfly before finding the One, the Marble Lantern Knot. Emptying his pockets he discovered the perfect marbles for his needs, two turquoise blue Laurimar, a marble like gem that his father had brought back from the Caribbean, hard as nails til fragmenting on impact. Then began the real work.

On went the big screen and an old VR game, Bright Boys BodyCom. Dad had told him that to get good at something you had to practise, that even a decent golf swing took a thousand or more strokes to perfect. The Japanese art of Hojojutsu had more than one  rope swing up its sleeve.

Three weeks of VR self-defence martial arts practise at two hours a day started to make a difference in Matt, well before he even realised it.  He began to fully inhabit his physical space. He sat straighter, walked with purpose. His mind landed inside his body, new neural pathways networked. A potential physical threat calmed him rather than inducing panic, fear petered out.

Patiently, he wove slim high tensile cord to strengthen them. Each three-metre rope ended in a Marble lantern knot encapsulating a turquoise blue Larimar gemstone. In the evening stillness, he coiled the ropes into each pocket and stepped across the road to the park. In a still place, amongst the trees, near the lit tennis courts he practised his Hojojutsu moves with his curated ropes, trapping trunks and lifting leaves. Until it was time.

Matt let it be known at school that this Thursday afternoon the stakes were higher than usual. Word travelled, the players and wannabees gathered and the smell of crowds pulsating with expectation drew in the big boys. They weren’t bright, and set themselves up for a repeat performance of taking down the winners as he had expected them to. This time Matt was ready, so was his audience, he took the money, but that wasn’t what he was there for. His classmates reached out to him to congratulate his performance, but they’d only seen the first act.

Crowds silenced as Matt moved towards the gates. He registered the non-functioning school cameras, pushing his hands to his pockets. Jeff and Dave stepped across his path and reached for an arm each. They didn’t know what hit them. As Matt unleashed and flicked his ropes the Larimars shimmered, distracting his would-be attackers and as they looked up to the light the skilled swift turns of his wrist lashed the high tensile cords around them, pinning them to their respective pillars. Marble lantern knots then cracked against the centre of each of their foreheads, shattering the Larimar gems. Their heads dropped to their chests and as Matt swiftly retracted his weapons Jeff and Dave slumped to the floor dazed, tiny turquoise fragments littering their hair and clothes.  As if choreographed, there was a sharp intake of breath that almost paused video recording fingertips before riotous applause erupted from the crowds. Jubilant at the classy take down. Matt stepped forward brought his palms together and bowed his head to the crowd and smiled.

 They could all walk home safely from school tonight and for the foreseeable future. Those who were not so sure, well they could join him in the playground at lunch til the end of term, to practice their knot tying he decided. If they were really keen, on an evening in Milton Park, amongst the tennis courts, near the trees, they’d be welcome. Except for Thursdays.

 ‘Thanks Dad’ Matt whispered to the stars that clear night as the skylights opened, and the telescope slid into place. He wondered for a moment if any part of his father heard him. Then turned toward the games tables. ‘Now Captain, let the games begin!’