Check & Mate

by Ali Hazelwood

“Um—want a piece?” “Eat that—or anything else—in my car, and I will chop your hands off and boil them in my urine.” “I’m hungry.” “Then starve.” I bite the inside of my cheek. Honestly, I think I’m growing on him. “But this is my emotional support sandwich.” “Then have a mental breakdown.”

I let out a laugh—a real one, my first since the tournament started, maybe even since Easton left. Emil stares with a kind, curious expression. “He has no chance,” he says cryptically.

“It has its ups and downs. I used to love it, but a little . . . sameness set in, and I actually thought about quitting. Then Mallory arrived.” His knee suddenly pushes back against mine. “Now I love it again.”

“Mostly that. Only secondarily because he doesn’t seem to be able to look away from my most oblivious daughter.”

It’s your world, isn’t it? The one you choose for yourself, well within your boundaries. You can be the queen in it. The king. The knight. Whatever you want. There are rules, and if you learn them well enough, then you’ll be able to control it. You’ll be able to rescue the pieces you care about. So unlike real life, huh?”

I don’t want to leave. I want to be with him. I want to sleep with him in this bed. I want to wake up to him pulling me into himself. I want to eat the overcooked pasta he makes and share his toothpaste and know his moods by heart.

“This flight has complimentary Wi-Fi. Can’t you Bing it or something?” “Mom won’t get me a smartphone till I’m fourteen.” “Mrs. Greenleaf,” he tells Mom, who’s sitting with me and Defne in the center row, “I will be purchasing a cellular phone for your youngest gremlin.” “Oh, there’s no need.” “I insist,” he says, lowering his sleep mask.

The pieces tell me a story. They draw pictures and ask me to color them in. Each one, with its hundreds of possible moves, billions of possible combinations, is like a beautiful skein of yarn. I can unspool it if I like, then weave it together with others to create a beautiful tapestry. A new tapestry. Ideally, a winning tapestry.

He’s staring at me with a small smile. It’s barely noticeable, but somehow manages to make the entire earth tip over.