Page 18 of Immortal Game

Shea was eight years old, and she’d just won her second open tournament.

In the final round, she’d played against the twenty-two-year-old state champion, Ben Farkas. When they sat down at the board, he gave her a kind but patronizing smile. Being underestimated always lit a fire in her. The game had been difficult; he’d played a Dragon Variation of the Sicilian Defense she hadn’t encountered before. Shea loved the challenge of improvisation, but what she loved far more was seeing his disbelief when she checkmated him on the twenty-fifth move.

Eventually, he laughed a little. “How old are you?”

“Eight.”

“Damn,” he said as he shook her hand. “Good game, kid.”

The exultant feeling followed her all the way to the award ceremony. They took photos Shea did not smile for, then handed her a commemorative glass plaque and a check for a thousand dollars. Privately, Shea missed the trophies they handed out in scholastic tournaments, the ones only kids played in. But nothing could compare to how she felt playing at the very edge ofher abilities. Her mind was exerted but as clear and bright as a diamond.

When the ceremony was done, Shea found Aideen waiting for her outside. Her sister looked nice today—nicer than usual, anyway, in a pretty white sundress, a stack of charm bracelets, and a pink cross-body purse. Everyone else seemed to think so, too. Shea caught a few people staring as they walked by.

“Hey,” Aideen said brightly.

“Hi.” Shea hesitated before asking, “Is Mom here?”

Aideen’s face fell only a little. Shea did her best to swallow her disappointment. Mom never came toanything. Still, Shea had hoped. She really had to stop doing that. It was for the best, anyway. Mom liked it better when Shea lost her games.

“You played well,” Aideen offered.

“How do you know?” Shea grumbled. She’d tried to teach Aideen how to play before, but she never showed much interest. Aideen preferred making up stories about queens and their brave knights, instead of applying them to their real, martial purpose. “You don’t even know how the knight moves.”

“Of course I do.” She paused. “That’s the little horse, right?”

Shea knew she was being teased, so she only glared at her.

“All right. How about this to make things better?” Aideen unzipped her purse and produced two crisp twenty-dollar bills. “We go celebrate without her.”

Shea’s eyes went wide. “Where’d you get that?”

Aideen only gave her a mysterious smile.

This was how they ended up in Apollo Pizza, a spot in downtown Wayfolk, where they had slices as big as your head, served on two grease-stained paper plates. Aideen ordered one for each of them. The cheese was so bubbling hot, it burned theroof of Shea’s mouth, but she didn’t care at all. It tasted way better than anything the two of them could scrounge together from the half-empty pantry at home.

Aideen had abandoned her pizza in favor of examining Shea’s check. Absently, she said, “A thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

Shea didn’t know what constituted a lot of money. But Aideen had opened up the gates to the adult world with a discussion of finances and invited her in. She wasn’t about to betray her own ignorance. She nodded sagely and replied, “It is.”

“Maybe it’ll help Mom with the bills.” After a moment, Aideen spoke again, quietly and fervently, as if letting a secret slip out: “But if there’s any left over, we could buy nice clothes to go to fancy parties. Or a kitten.Fivekittens. What would you do with a lot of money?”

Shea considered it. “Buy a bunch of gel pens.”

Aideen looked almost disgusted. “You have no imagination.I’dgo on trips. Maybe to London or Paris—or Ireland. I think I’d like to go to Ireland and marry a prince.” She rested her chin in her hands and sighed dreamily. “Do they have princes in Ireland?”

Aideen had just turned thirteen, and Shea had never understood her less. Her sister liked pretty things and faraway places and—maybe most mystifying of all—boys. Sometimes, Shea could understand the desire to go somewhere far, far away from here. Home wasn’t always a nice place to be, especially when Aideen and Mom argued.

Luckily, Shea had her chessboard. When she played, everything else fell away. It soothed her, the elegance and predictability of chess. She liked the way it felt to work out a tricky puzzleor crack a resilient opponent. She loved books of chess theory, where the clashes between historical grandmasters came to life before her eyes. It was like watching a movie—but even better, even more exhilarating. The drama, the beauty, the pure logic of those games… There was nothing she wanted more than to create that kind of magic.

Shea took a sip of her soda. “I don’t think so. They do in Britain.”

Aideen shook her head vehemently, as though the very mention of Britain had poisoned the whole fantasy. “That’s okay. Maybe we can just go and live in an old castle. One day, anyway. We don’t have enough money yet. In the meantime, I’ll bring this to Grandpa so he can cash it for you.”

“You can have it,” Shea said. “You want it more than I do.”

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t have a bank account. Anyway,youearned it, chess whiz. It’s yours.” She leaned across the table and tapped the tip of Shea’s nose. Shea scowled at her, and Aideen stuck out her tongue. After a moment, her expression grew serious again. “Be sure to hide your plaque when we get home, or Mom will get mad.”

“I will.”