I felt my face flame. Both Salinger and I looked away from each other. “No, of course not,” I said, trying to defuse the obvious awkwardness laying dormant in the room. Awkwardness I’d laid out there. I felt so stupid.
“Whatever you say,” she answered. “We brought food,” she said, lifting up a full paper bag. She walked toward the kitchen, her bright white shoes with the thick black platforms clomping across the worn wood floor. “You’ve been working so hard, both of you, we thought you guys could use a reprieve. It’s not healthy the way you two push yourselves.”
“She’s right,” Ansen said, following her into the kitchen.
They kept up a conversation in there, but I didn’t hear anything they were saying, and I don’t think Salinger did either, because we were watching each other, unsure how or if we needed to approach the subject of what had happened over the chess table.
Salinger inched toward me and I followed suit until we were two feet apart. His eyes never left mine.
“We saw Trace at Ashleigh’s on Friday night!” Katie called out from the kitchen.
I kept my gaze on Salinger but answered her.
“Oh yeah? He calmed down yet?”
“No,” Ansen answered for her. “He’s fucking lost his shit is what’s going on.”
I broke our gaze and walked into the kitchen, Salinger right behind me.
“What did he say?” I asked them.
Katie laid out several containers of Chinese food on the new butcher-block countertops we’d salvaged and sealed.
“He said, well—” She looked at me then Ansen. “Don’t worry about what he said.”
“Just tell her,” Ansen prodded.
Katie sighed and put down the last box of food then folded the paper bag they came in. She laid the bag on the counter next to the food and turned my direction.
“He, well, he said he was going to, and I’m quoting him by the way, that he was going to ‘take care of you.’”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Salinger asked. His hand found my wrist and stayed there. I wasn’t sure he was aware he’d even done it.
Ansen fell into one of our old wood chairs and ran his hands down his face. “It’s fucking Trace. It could mean anything.”
Salinger turned me toward him. “You need to file another report then. If several people heard him say this, it needs to be reported.”
My free hand found the top of my head. “I don’t know, man. It would only make things worse, I think.”
“Lily, you’re kidding me, right?” Salinger asked, the disbelief apparent in his eyes. “He’s openly threatening you to other people. That’s scary shit.”
I took a deep breath. “Trace is unpredictable. If I add this on, he’ll really come after me.”
“Worse than he already has?” His tone was incredulous. “It’s exactly because he’s unpredictable you need to document everything he does.”
“Let me think on it,” I said, but I knew I wouldn’t do anything.
Dealing with Trace was further down the list. I didn’t have time for Trace.
Ansen stood up and stared out the sliding glass door. “It’s so fucking shitty he lives right behind you,” he said.
“I don’t even care,” I admitted. Salinger looked down at his fingers around my wrist. He let me go. “I don’t have time for Trace. I have to fix the roof and the floor. I have to get Callie and Eloise home.”
Katie nodded. “Let’s no more talk of Trace then,” she said and handed me a paper plate. “You’re skin and bones, Lily.”
“I’m stressed.”
“I get it, but it’s time you started taking better care of yourself. You’re falling off the deep end a little bit, and I’ll be damned if I watch you drop over,” she replied.
“I’m getting there, Katie.”
She nodded.
We all sat around the dining room table, a table I don’t think I’d ever sat at once. When my mom and Sterling were alive, it was a catchall. It was where all their junk would land. Since I’d cleaned up the house, we could see the surface of it, and it was actually kind of pretty. It was an old table, for sure, but it was well kept, because it hadn’t been really used in years.
“Lily is training for a tournament in Austin,” Salinger told the table.
“Is this a big deal?” Ansen asked.
“Kind of,” I said. Adrenaline pumped through my body at the mere thought of taking on Aurek. “I, uh, I looked my opponent up.”
Salinger dropped his fork on his plate. “You did?” he asked.
“Horrible idea,” I said. “I’m freaked the hell out.” I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them, resting the arches of my feet against the edge of the chair. “So much is riding on this.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“YES, BERNARD,” I told him over the phone. He’d asked me if I was ready.
We’d spent pretty much every waking moment I wasn’t working or sleeping preparing for the tournament in Austin. I’d gone to Bernard’s the previous weekend and had an intensive training session. I was as ready as I could possibly be.
“Remember to relax,” he prompted.
I took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”
There was a dramatic pause. “Good luck, Lily,” he said, but before I could respond, he’d hung up.
I stuck my phone in the back pocket of my cutoffs. I turned toward Salinger.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
We got out of his Jeep and walked side by side toward the convention hall.
“I feel like I’m ready but the nerves. Feel like I’m going to be sick,” I told him.
He lifted his bag higher on his shoulders. “That’s normal, Little.”
I nodded.
This tournament was a $3,500 pot. Salinger had several roofers come out and the cheapest guy estimated a new roof around $8,000. I almost fell over when he told me. Apparently the house had some code issues and a lot of stuff had to be replaced because it hadn’t been maintained for years. I needed to win. So bad.
We approached the ten or so doors to the hall. Salinger opened one for me and I stepped in. Cool air assailed me. The place was crowded. Really, really crowded. There were lines just to get to the registration tables. My heart started to race.
“How many games will I play today?” I asked him.
“There’s seven levels this tournament. I think, like, one hundred twenty-eight opponents.”
“Okay. When will I have the provisional score given to me?”
“Yeah,” he said, as we landed in the registration line. “We’ll have to talk to the director.”
“Okay,” I said.
We were both really quiet as we waited in line. My stomach was in knots. I looked over at Salinger. He appeared casual and I envied him for it. I knew I looked as I felt—anxious. I tucked my hands into my sides.
“Salinger!” someone yelled behind us.
We both turned to see who it was. It was two people I didn’t recognize. They waved as they passed us by.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“That’s Diego and Akeem. Really nice. If you advance far enough, you’ll probably play one of them.”
Just then two boys around ten or eleven approached us.
“Excuse us, are you Salinger Park?” one of them asked.
Salinger looked down at them. “Yeah, little dude.”
The looks on their faces were priceless. Both their mouths gaped wide open and they glanced at each other before turning back to Salinger.
“Can we have your autograph?” the second boy asked.
“Sure thing,” he said.
They thrust a pen in his hand and handed them their registration lanyards. Salinger slipped their cards out of their lanyards and signed the backs of each one.
“Wanna know a secret?” he asked them. Their eyes grew wider, if that was possible. Salinger leaned forward a bit and threw his head my way. “You’re gonna want her signatu
re too.”
The boys looked at me, but they weren’t convinced. My face grew hot. “Who is she?” the first boy asked.
“This is Lily Hahn.”
“Never heard of her,” the second boy commented.
“Don’t worry,” Salinger said, “you will.”
“What’s her rating?” the first boy asked.
“She doesn’t have one yet. This is her first tournament.”
Both boys looked skeptical, on the verge of laughter even. “That’s okay,” they said, putting their name cards back in their lanyards.
“A mistake, boys,” he said, but smiled at them anyway.
“Thanks,” they both said and walked away.
I glanced at Salinger.
“When this is all said and done, they’ll have instant regret.”
My face grew hotter. “Too much pressure,” I whispered.
Salinger stared at the side of my face. “Lily.”
“What?” I asked.
“Look at me,” he said as we progressed in line.
I did as he asked. “Instant. Regret.”
“I know chess, but I don’t know competition.”
“This week you’ve done so freaking well. I couldn’t be more proud of you. And guess what happens if you don’t do well in this tournament?”
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing happens. So no worries.”
“That’s not right, though, is it? Or do you forget why I’m doing this?”
He looked like I’d slapped him. “I didn’t forget,” he explained low, inching closer to me. “How could I forget? I only mean that we will find a way to get the roof and floors done regardless, so stop worrying. Try to have fun.”
I nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. “You’re right. You’ve been so generous with me. I’ll take your advice and let this be fun. I’m grateful to have you.” I paused. “As a friend,” I clarified.
That was awkward. I knew it was awkward. We’d never addressed the strange tension between us during our blindfolded game. I wanted him. I was certain he did not want me back. After his comments in New Orleans about Lyric, I wanted to make sure he felt comfortable with me. I just didn’t know how to convey that to him.
“You are such a dork,” he teased then laughed.
We made it through the line and the registrar signaled for the director to approach him when we checked in.
“Miss Hahn?” the gentleman greeted and offered his hand.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, and shook it.
“I’m Charles Odelay. Let’s set you up with a provisional rating.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where do you believe you lie?” he asked, picking up a clipboard and flipping through pages of names.
“We believe I’m at a twenty-six hundred, but we aren’t sure.”
Charles Odelay looked at me. “Are you sure?” he asked. He was skeptical, and it started to make me question myself.
“Yes, sir, she is, at the very least, a twenty-six hundred. Bernard Calvin himself trained with her,” Salinger said, bolstering me.
When Salinger mentioned Bernard’s name, I felt at least twenty pairs of eyes train on us at once. I sidled closer to Salinger.
“Impossible,” Charles replied, letting the papers he’d flipped through all fall at once. “He’s a recluse. No one’s seen him in years. He’s in hiding.”
“She’s seen him, sir. She’s trained with him.”
Charles stared at me. “For a provisional rating that high, we’ll have to use the Elometer.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Salinger assured him.
“Meet me in private room three-oh-two in fifteen minutes,” he said and walked off without another look my direction.
“What is an Elometer?” I asked him.
“It’s a test. Seventy-six chess problems. It should give them a fairly accurate rating of your skill level. That will decide your provisional rating.”
“Will I do well?” I asked, my heart beating a million miles a minute.
“You will do extremely well,” he answered me.
The registrar eyed me but didn’t say a word. He handed me my lanyard with all my information on it. Where it read rating, the letters TBD appeared.
The guy handed Salinger his lanyard. Where it read rating, his said 2412.
When we left the table, I felt those twenty pairs of eyes follow us.
That’s when I noticed it.
“Salinger,” I whispered, tugging at his sleeve.
“Huh?” he asked, searching the nearby map for the private room we were supposed to be in soon.
“Where are all the girls?” I asked, looking over at the lines again.
“What?” he asked, peering over to where I was looking.
“The girls, Salinger. Where are the girl competitors?”
“Girls rarely compete.”
“What?” I asked, getting nervous. “Why?”
He looked at me. “If I were to guess? I honestly think it’s because girls aren’t encouraged to choose chess. Everyone has these strange ideas of what a gender role is supposed to be. I don’t think they’re supported when they show an interest.”
I took in every single person milling about. They ranged from sixty to five years old, but they were all male. All of them. I didn’t notice a single girl.
“What in the world?” I asked no one.
“It’s not cool,” he said, then tapped a place on the map. “Here,” he said, distracting me. He looked at me, suddenly serious and I sobered. “Pee now, drink some water, let’s go.”
He took long strides toward the bathrooms. I had to run to keep up with him. I threw my bag at him and he held it for me while I peed. When I once again emerged, I took my bag from him and got a bottle of water. I cracked the lid as we rushed along the corridor toward the room Charles would hold the test.
I took a swig, replaced the lid, and tossed the bottle back in my bag. I breathed deeply through my nose. “I feel sick,” I whispered.
“Deep breaths, Hahn,” he told me.
We reached room 302 and stood in front of its tall wooden door inset into the wall.
“Tell me when you’re ready,” he said.
I took two deep breaths and reached for the handle, but he beat me to it and opened the door for me. He leaned into my ear. “Good luck, Little,” he whispered, sending shivers across my skin there.
I swallowed and walked into the room. I heard the door shut behind me.
“Miss Hahn,” Charles Odelay greeted. There were three other men in the room.
“Yes, sir?”
“Leave your bag by the door, please, and feel free to take a seat there,” he said, gesturing to a simple table with a chair in the center of the room that faced him and the other men.
I did as he asked, and one of the men stood and brought a tablet over to me. “Miss Hahn, you will play white. Enter your move by clicking any piece then the intended target field. If you change your mind and want to pick a new piece, just choose the New Move or Clear Input button and it will clear the piece for you to try again. Good luck to you.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said and placed the tablet down in front of me.
I completed the example play and pressed next. I went from scenario to scenario without any issue. It was fun for me, and the nerves I’d been feeling melted away with each completed scenario. Within fifteen minutes, I was done and clicked the submit button at the end.
“Done,” I said.
The men looked shocked.
“Did you finish?” Charles asked me.
“Yes.” My score shown at the bottom of a graph on the tablet. “Estimated Elo rating of 2739.”
My heart started beating but not from nerves, from excitement.
“Let me see that,” Charles said, putting on a pair of reading glasses that hung around his neck.
He stood and made his way over to my table. The other men joined him.
“Outstanding,
young lady!” one of them commented.
“It is as you said,” Charles commented. He looked down at me. “It is unfortunate the highest player here is a lower rating. We’ll have to start your provisional rating at his level. If you beat him,” he looked at the ceiling briefly, ”your rating should only land about 2565, decidedly lower than your Elometer rating, but will allow you to compete at high levels in different tournaments. Are you satisfied with this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He gave me a small smile. “You’re free to go. I’ll set up your place in the first opponent round. Good luck, Miss Hahn.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I got up and walked toward the door and picked up my bag.
“Oh, Miss Hahn,” Charles called out.
I turned toward him.
“How long have you played?”
“I started playing my freshman year of high school. I’ve only ever played online.”
He pursed his lips, as if he was intrigued, and nodded his head.
“I look forward to seeing you play.”
“Thank you,” I said and turned back around.
I opened the door to see Salinger pacing the floor across the corridor. The door shut behind me. His head popped up when he saw me. He lifted his hands and shoulders in question.
“2739,” I told him.
He fist-pumped the air and ran over to me. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. When he reached me, he lifted me up and spun me around. I felt my cheeks heat up as he set me back down.
“That is incredible, Lily. Incredible.”
“I’m so excited. It’s higher than we thought. I guess my provisional score can’t be that high, though?”
“Yeah, you’ll have to start where Aurek is since he’s the highest rating competing today.”
“That’s what Charles said. I don’t mind, though. All I care about is competing in enough tournaments to get my house fixed so I can bring Eloise and Callie back home.”
Salinger nodded. He looked down the hall at nothing then back at me. “You know you could probably go national, right?”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Maybe, uh, maybe you should consider it.”
“It’s not on my list.”
He looked confused. “List?”
I swallowed nothing. “I have a list of things I have to get done.”
IDLE: Book Four of The Seven Deadly Series Page 16
