2
Once I found out Chad’s final opponent was
Tiffany, I just wasn’t feeling the tournament
anymore.
But our families didn’t know anything about
<
that. They wanted me to come home and
watch with them, so I did.
Both players sat down, and the best–of–three
final started.
I was just messing around on my phone,
barely even glancing up at the TV.
Then I heard Mr. Miller say, annoyed, “What
was that move? It’s like he’s letting her win.”
I froze and looked up at the screen.
Tiffany shyly looked up at Chad, then glanced
down and made her move.
Chad smirked, all lovey–dovey, and put down
his piece without even thinking.
I didn’t understand chess, but the look on Mr.
Miller’s and my dad’s faces told me he had
screwed up.
It was totally out of character.
I suddenly felt lost, like Chad was a stranger.
Chad was always a man of principle. He loved
chess as much as he loved me.
He always took training and analysis
seriously.
Even when he played games with me, he
would never play chess, only checkers.
In his eyes, chess was a sacrosanct game.
This was the first time I’d ever seen him
<
After a while, I heard Mr. Miller say, “He’s
thrown like, seven moves! Is he even trying to
win?”
Seven moves.
He threw seven moves to Tiffany?
Chad was violating his own principles, over
and over.
And the person he was doing it for wasn’t me.
I started nervously fiddling with my clothes.
My chest was tight, like my whole ribcage
was stuffed with cotton, making it hard to
breathe.
My mom noticed something was up and
gently patted my back.
“Don’t worry about it, Ashley. Chad’s probably
just being nice to a younger player, doesn’t
want her to feel too bad if she loses.”
I gave her a weak smile and nodded.
“Mom, I’m not worried.”
But I knew exactly what it meant.
Some people were quietly slipping away from
- me.
