Page 116 of Check & Mate
“And you gotta be in bed by nine, since tomorrow’s the most important game of your career.”
“Is it? Because as far as I know, I have twelve coming up.”
“The first one sets the tone, Mal.”
“I . . . Won’t it be rude to leave?”
“Maybe.” She pulls me up the stairs. “But your opponent didn’t even bother showing up. As long as his rudeness eclipses yours, you’re golden.”
That’s how I end up wearing my jammies at 8:53, tucked in, pillow punched underneath my head. Easton slides in on her side of the bed, Darcy curls right between us, and Sabrina settles at the foot of the mattress.
A veritable slumber party.
“According to my trainer, I should be asleep in five minutes,” I point out.
“Ah, yes.” Sabrina doesn’t look up from her phone. “Is Defne going to come burp you, too?”
“Come on, Sabrina,” Easton scolds her. “You know she first needs a diaper change.”
We argue for the longest time over what to watch on the 8K TV. Then we give up on finding a movie that won’t be vetoed by at least one other person, and settle for pulling up random You-Tube videos. After nine centuries of surprisingly violent roller derby footage that have me worried for the state of Sabrina’s brain, Easton blesses me with aDragon Ageplaythrough. For a minute it feels like it used to be— the two of us, and Solas being an asshole on screen. When I turn to grin at her, I find that she’s already grinning at me. Then I remember something, and my smile slips.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing. Just . . .” I shrug. “I watched one with Nolan once.”
“A playthrough? Is that gem of a boy intoDA?”
“Not really.”
“Ah. I’ve seen your press conference, by the way. Nice job making it look like you totally despise him even when he said nothing but super- nice things about you.”
“Ididn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Darcy and Sabrina say in chorus, without tearing their eyes from the TV.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. Because they’re right. “He hasn’t really . . . Maybe he saidmediumlynice things, but don’t be fooled. He hasn’t acknowledged my presence.”
“Mmm.” Easton nods. “Have you considered acknowledging his first? Maybe be like, ‘Hey, whadup, I didn’t really mean the many horrible things I said about you.’ ”
“Right.” I clear my throat. Look away. “No.”
“Did you callhima bitch, too?” Darcy asks.
I tilt my chin up and groan. “I refuse to engage on this topic with anyone who’sundereighteen, or with anyone who’sovereighteen but needs a twenty- five- minute pep talk to add a heart emoji to a text,” I declare. But ten minutes later, while a Texan lady nurses an injured bat back to health (Darcy’s selection), I start composing a text. The most recent blue bubbles are dated January 9, middle of the night: the response to myEither Emil’s really good at sex or he’s gutting Tanu, was You mean, it’s not a foghorn that woke me up?I half smile and write:
can we talk?
Then I delete it. And type again:
you’re right about some things. maybe not all of them. but I overreac
Delete.
did you know in your 2016 game against Lal you missed a checkmate. nice queening, though.
Delete, delete, delete.
im sorry about