Skeletons

Marbles

He walked slowly. One hand in his pocket, the other shaking at his side. One more block and the boys would be there, waiting for him just as they did every morning. Henry touched the smooth, round marble in his pocket. The green and gold speckled beauty was the newest edition to his collection, and his favorite. His father had finally come to visit yesterday, and with him he had brought this special marble. Most of the marbles Henry had were about the size of a nickel. But this one was just a bit smaller, a little larger than a dime. It fit perfectly in the very center of his palm.

When his dad came over the day before, he sat down on the hard brown carpet with his son and opened his marble bag. Henry had one just like it, except his was purple and his dad's was a dark, reddish brown. They put out the circle and sat across from each other dumping out their marbles.

"I'm going to teach you how to win every time Henry." His dad selected the small marble, held it up to his eye and squinted at it. "All you need is this."

His dad called it The Ringer.

"Henry, you use this one at the very end of the game and it'll roll right between all the other marbles and hit the center of the circle. As long as you aim it jussst right."

His dad stayed to play two rounds using The Ringer to win each time; showing his son how. By the end of the game his dad's hands were beginning to shake. And his breathing was becoming a bit more irregular. It was time for his dad to leave.

"This is one of mine, a very special marble, Henry. Do you think you can hold on to it for me?" Henry hesitated, unsure whether or not he could. The boys down the street would like this little marble. But he nodded anyway, and promised that he would keep it safe.

"That's my boy. I'll be back real soon, and we can play again. Okay?" Henry nodded and buried his head into his dad's stomach, breathing in the sweet, smoky scent of him. His dad squeezed him close, the boney arms clinging to his son. He got down on his knees slowly, and stared Henry straight in the eye. Henry could see the blood vessels, straining against the whites, bursting like a sun in some spots.

"You take good care of that marble," his dad said, the shaking becoming worse with each moment he stared at his son. His dad wiped his nose with the back of his hand and smeared the blood across his face. "I'll be back son, I'll be back and I'll be better."

The purple felt satchel that held all of Henry's other marbles bumped softly against his hip as he walked. His dad had given him other marbles before, but those were silly ones he had bought in the supermarket. The Ringer was special; it had been his dad's marble. Maybe even his favorite. The drawstring was pulled tight and hooked around his belt loop, in plain sight. The Ringer was tucked safely in his pocket, his hand holding it tight.

Magnolia Street was just up the way, he had to pass to get to school, but the boys would be waiting. He gave The Ringer one last squeeze before he pulled his hand out of his pocket and inspected it. The marble was small enough that you couldn't see its bulge. Henry sighed in relief and continued on, knowing that the boys didn't like the other marbles in his bag. He wouldn't lose any today, maybe they would ignore him entirely.

He wiped his moist palm on his pants to dry it and kept his head down as he approached Magnolia Lane, seeing the boys collected in their special spot.

"Hey loser!" Chuck called. Henry hunched over even more, hoping if he ignored him he would leave him alone today. It worked sometimes, but not today. Chuck jumped off the little brick wall at the corner and stepped in front of Henry blocking him from moving forward. The other boys perked up, looking alert as they watched the scene unfold.