“So watch out,” Sanam says, backing me up.
“Ooh. I’m scared.” Quinn rolls her eyes.
“Well, you should be,” Sanam says. “Clea will take your spot if you don’t step up your game.”
“Never happening,” Quinn says.
“Keep losing like you have been, and it’s going to happen at the next tournament.”
“I—”
“Save your excuses for someone who cares.”
Quinn doesn’t say anything else. She turns around and walks away, into the bathroom. And even though I know we won that round and Quinn is the one who’s wrong, I wish everything she said about me didn’t hurt so much.
Sanam glances over to check on me, like she knows to be worried. But I don’t want her to be. I want her to have fun with Red, even if he hasn’t acknowledged my presence once since we got here. I give Sanam a look that says I’m totes fine and she should go back to flirting.
“Are you okay?” Dylan whispers to me.
I shrug.
“So … not really?”
“I wish that what Quinn said didn’t bother me.”
“For the record, she’s wrong,” he says. “But I get how you feel.”
“Doubt it,” I say. “You’re so good at chess, and you know it.”
“I’m good for our grade, but my brother is always ragging on me about my openings and I don’t even know—other random parts of my game. He acts like there’s only one way to be good at chess. And when he says things enough times and in a certain way, they start to sound true.”
“That stinks,” I say. “Just because he’s better than you, doesn’t mean he’s always right about chess.”
“That’s why I stopped playing with him. He was making me hate the game. And I’m pretty sure that’s another reason I was rude to you and other people on the team.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say. “I’m really glad you don’t play with him anymore.”
“Yeah. Me too. I needed to stand up for myself,” he says. “I guess what I’m saying is sometimes when people are mean, they’re also wrong, and you have to find a way to block them out. Quinn is wrong about you. You’re smart and the team needs you. I should know—you crushed me.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “I forgot about that.”
“I didn’t,” he says.
“Well, you got blindsided. That’s hard to forget.”
“Ouch,” he says. “But true.”
“Thanks for saying I’m smart and good at chess.”
“You are,” he says. “Believe it.”
“I’m really trying to.”
I end up staying at the hangout the entire time, talking to Dylan, and I never have to use the secret peace signal. Right before it’s time to go home, Sanam and I get extra hot chocolate to celebrate.
* * *
When I get home, Dad isn’t on the couch or in his office or upstairs in my parents’ room. Mom said he got delayed until tomorrow because of weather, which makes no sense, since it’s not raining or anything, but apparently I’m wrong, because when I look online, it turns out that all the planes coming into Logan are delayed or canceled due to a “low ceiling,” whatever that means.
I go up to my room and read the chess book Dylan gave me. I almost finish the whole thing, because I can’t put it down. All of a sudden, reading feels exactly like playing chess. I didn’t realize until now that hyper focus can happen other times, too! Basically whenever I’m doing something I love. I really like being able to block out all the bad things and think about something that makes me happy. It feels a little like magic.
The best part about Dylan’s book is that it reminds me about moves that I sort of forgot existed, like castling on the queen’s side, which is not anything crazy or weird or even new for me, but it’s good to remember. I usually castle king-side, moving the king to the right next to the rook. Once the pieces are side by side, they swap places, so the rook can protect the king. If you want to castle queen-side you have to get the queen out of the way and then move the king to the left.
The whole time I’m reading my brain is spinning and whipping up moves I can use to impress Mr. Lee once I’m back on the team.
I WANT TO cry when I hear my phone beep, buzz, and jingle at 8:15 a.m. I hit snooze. I need a few more minutes of sleep. I can’t get up yet. It’s so cozy and comfy. I’m barely awake, but I know I have to pull myself out of bed and leave my room, before I can’t help but get back under the layers of fluffy blankets. I need a good grade on my paper so I can be back on the chess team and make the top twelve before camp.
Last night, after I read most of Dylan’s chess book, I looked over the schedule Ms. Curtis helped me make for my paper with achievable goals and rewards.
The schedule is tight. I have to focus and complete every single thing on my list in a limited time frame, or I won’t finish.
Waking up early isn’t on the schedule. It’s a cushion, a way to trick myself into feeling like I’m ahead. It’s one of the things I need to do my best. That isn’t something Ms. Curtis taught me. I figured that out on my own.
When I get downstairs, Henley is sitting next to Mom at the kitchen table. They’re always up early tiptoeing around the house, even on weekends. Dad and I both like to sleep in whenever we have a chance. Henley has a blue marker in one hand and a waffle in the other. “Clea!” she shouts. There’s sticky maple syrup all over her lips, like gloss that she put on by herself.
I smile at her.
“What are you doing up so early?” Mom asks.
“English paper.”
She walks over and rubs my shoulder. “Want a waffle?”
“They have chocolate chips inside,” Henley says.
“I don’t have time for a big breakfast,” I say.
“You have the whole weekend to finish your work. I’m confident you’ll have enough time to get everything done. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself. You need to eat something now before you take your medicine,” Mom says. “That’s not up for discussion, and you can also bring a waffle or anything else you’d like up to your room.”
“Okay,” I say, because I know she’s right. I figured out that I have a twenty-minute window before the medicine kicks in and makes me think I’m not that hungry. “A waffle sounds good.” I pour myself a glass of juice and open a banana. I eat the whole thing, take my medicine, and sit down at the kitchen table.
“I want to help you with homework,” Henley says.
“Not today.” I smile at her.
“I can. I’m good at helping.”
“I know, you are.” I look at the clock. I want to be upstairs at my computer in ten minutes so that I’m ready to write my paper when the medicine starts working.
“So, yes?!” She stands up like she’s ready to get to work.
“Not this time.” I try as hard as I can to sound calm.
“Please. Please. Pretty please with sugar on top.”
“No.” The word comes out a little too loud.
“Clea, be nice.” Mom says it like she hasn’t heard all the times I’ve tried to be.
“I was,” I snap. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It’s really hard for your sister to express herself. You need to be supportive. We all need to be. That’s not optional.”
“Well, writing an entire English paper due Monday and finishing all my other homework is really hard for me.” My voice is loud and mad. “I’m barely going to have enough time to finish as it is.”
“You need to calm down,” Mom says. “She just wants to help with something.”
“There’s literally no way for Henley to help me. She’s six!” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“SIX AND THREE QUARTERS!!!” Henley shouts back at me. There are tears in her eyes.
“Do you see what you’ve done?” Mom puts a plate of food on the table in front of me and points to my sister. “Look.”
Only I can’t. The sound of her tin
y chest heaving, choking between tears to find air, hurts me. I didn’t mean to make her cry. She didn’t do anything wrong. I take a deep breath and look at her. There are tears trickling down her face.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She crosses her arms over her body and looks at me like she never has before, like she hates me.
I take a deep breath. “It’s not because you’re younger that you can’t help. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not true.”
“I already know,” she says like it’s so obvious to her. “It hurts when you yell. I don’t like it.”
“I know,” I say. “I’ll do a better job next time. I promise.”
“Good,” she says.
“You have to be responsible for your words,” Mom says. “I don’t want you to accidentally say something that you can’t take back.”
“You can’t be serious right now! Don’t you think I know that? That’s why Red isn’t my best friend anymore!”
“He isn’t?” Mom asks.
I shake my head. “He isn’t even my friend. We’re basically strangers.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did something happen?”
I can feel the tears building up behind my eyes. I’ve been trying so hard not to think about how much I miss Red or about all the stupid things I said by accident that I shouldn’t have, that I wish I could take back now. “I blurted out secrets about his family in front of a lot of people, and even though I was trying to defend him, I ended up embarrassing him. It was really bad. And I do that kind of a lot. So now he doesn’t want to know me.”
Mom sighs. “I know you’re not proud of what you said, but I think Red is having a really hard time right now, so whatever happened probably felt like a much bigger deal to him than it actually was, and maybe with a little more time, you can figure out a way to be friends again.”
“I hope so,” I say. “But I don’t want to say anything I don’t mean to ever again.”
“That’s a great goal. What can I do to help you?”
“I need to practice not saying everything I’m thinking so I can get used to staying calm, but it’s hard when I’m upset. Whatever you do, don’t tell me to calm down, because I’m already trying to do that and it’s not working, so hearing you say it, like it’s so easy, makes me more upset. What I really need is a reminder that I should take my time and think about what I want to say.”
“I can do that.” Mom rubs my shoulder.
“Thanks for listening,” I say. “I know I’ll get used to everything about ADHD. I already have. Some things are better. But it’s hard. And it’s going to take time and practice.”
“It’s okay if you mess up again,” Henley says. “I’ll still be your sister. But try hard not to, okay?”
I nod. “I will.”
“You can do it,” she says.
And I know she’s right.
The garage door opens, and a minute later, Dad walks into the kitchen. “My three favorite people.” He smiles at each of us. “What did I miss?”
“A lot!” Henley says. “We have problems.”
We all laugh.
“Is there anything I can do to help solve your problems?” Dad asks Henley.
She puts her hand up to her chin like she’s thinking hard. “Nothing for me.”
“I really need you to read my English paper.” I look at Mom and then at Dad. They both nod back at me. “I know you have a lot of work, but this is important to me. I need you to not just pretend like you’re going to help and then get too busy. I can’t make any major mistakes or I won’t be allowed back on the chess team for—I don’t even know how long.”
Dad says, “I’ve done that to you a lot recently, and it’s not fair. I’m sorry. You can show me as many drafts of your paper as you need to so that you feel great about what you hand in.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I’m really glad you asked for help,” he says.
“Me too.”
“I have some good news. My work in California is on hold for now, so I won’t need to travel for a few weeks.”
“Yes!” Henley jumps out of her chair and runs over to Dad, hugging him as hard as she can.
Mom smiles.
And I do too.
When I get back up to my room, I decide to write about the magic in A Wrinkle in Time, because I realize the best chance I have at writing a great paper is to pick a topic that interests me. I might as well take advantage of my hyper focus. It only takes me an hour to write my introductory paragraph and find three examples to support my thesis. After I finish reading over what I wrote, I’m confident that I’m off to a great start.
My phone starts dinging. It’s a text from Sanam:
It’s not the same without you. I wish you were here!
I can’t help but smile. It feels good to be missed. And even though texting Sanam wasn’t supposed to be my first or second reward, I figure it’s okay to switch that part around, as long as I stay on schedule with my paper.
Me too! I write back.
We’re running late, so nothing chess related is even happening yet. But everyone is talking about you …
My heart stops. What are they saying? I ask, because this time I want to know. I can handle it, even if it’s not nice or the truth. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I know I’m a great chess player and I can get a good grade on my paper and turn things around in school.
That Dylan likes you and wants to be boyfriend-girlfriend for real!
SHUT UP?!
I swear! OMG!!!! It’s major! she texts.
I was worried everyone was making fun of me.
I didn’t even think about that!
That’s definitely a good thing , I write. I just wanted you to know.
I’m glad you told me, she writes back.
Me too.
I run around outside with Henley and Hilda for a few minutes, and then I get back to work on my paper.
It takes me almost three hours and a lot of playing with the squishy ball and pacing around my room to write my supporting paragraphs, but when I’m done, I think they’re pretty good for a first draft. Instead of writing the conclusion and waiting until tomorrow to have Mom and Dad read through my paper, I realize it’s probably better for me to have them read it now so I have all day tomorrow to revise. I’m still learning how to plan out my homework and manage my time, so I have to be flexible.
I print out two copies of my paper and walk downstairs. My parents are in the family room watching Casablanca, which is this old black-and-white movie they love.
Mom pauses the movie when she sees me.
“I didn’t write the conclusion yet, but could you maybe read what I have so far?”
“Yes. Let me get my glasses.” Mom disappears into the kitchen.
“Could you grab a pen?” Dad asks her.
She comes back with both.
I hand them each a copy and then escape into the kitchen for a late lunch, because I’m hungry and I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to watch my parents write all over my paper. I go to text Sanam, because the tournament should be finishing up soon and I want to know if we won. That’s when I remember my phone has been on do not disturb, and it turns out I missed a bunch of texts from her:
Everyone crushed the first round, including moi!
I lost round two . PS. It would be way better if you were here.
Round three = draw for me.
Spoiler alert … We won!!!
BTW text me back soon, so I know you’re okay/not annoyed.
I write back to Sanam immediately. SORRY! Phone was off. Def not annoyed ever/at all! You’re the best at chess and updates and yay for winning. I’m sad I wasn’t there, too.
PHEW! Sanam writes back. It’s almost Tuesday!
I can’t wait, I tell her.
Ditto.
I finish my sandwich and an orange, and then I walk back into the family room, sit in the cushy chair across from my parents, and hold my breath.<
br />
Neither of them says anything at first. Dad looks down at the stapled pages and nods. “It’s very interesting, and your thesis definitely works.”
“Really?” I blurt out.
“You’ve done a great job making an argument and backing it up,” Mom says. “I have some minor notes and one comment on the third example, but overall it’s excellent.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I mean, if it’s not good enough, I can start over,” I say, because out of nowhere I’m scared they aren’t telling me the whole truth, since they’re worried about me.
“This is a wonderful draft, Clea.” Mom’s voice is steady. “You should be very proud.”
Dad is nodding, like he agrees with everything Mom just said.
“Yes!” I jump up and down and hug Mom and then Dad.
I’m so excited that I go back upstairs to work on their edits and write my conclusion. It feels good to finally be on the right track.
ON MONDAY, I wake up early to re-read my paper one last time with fresh eyes, and it’s awesome! I can’t wait to hand it in and get a good grade. I want this whole not-playing-chess situation to be over and old news. I pack a copy of my paper in my bag with the book Dylan let me borrow so I can give it back to him. The note he wrote me with his number is already tucked away in my desk drawer. I read it a few times this weekend whenever I started to get sad about missing the tournament. It made me feel better, and like I’m still on the team and a great chess player.
After I’m done getting ready for school, I have time to practice chess puzzles, which is good news, because I need to keep my skills super sharp for Tuesday.
I set my alarm for twenty minutes without even thinking, like it’s already an old habit, and I start playing. I’m thrown right into the middle of a game. I spot my move immediately and take out the enemy pawn with my queen, so there’s only one space between my queen and my opponent’s king. The enemy rook slides over to save his king. I don’t fall for it. I slide my queen up two squares on the diagonal, take out another rook, and take back my direct access to the king! I practice my tactics until my phone starts beeping. Then I stop, pack the rest of my books in my bag, and go downstairs for breakfast.
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