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“You have a bad poker face. We’ll have to work on it before tournaments.”
I frown. “Why would you think that— ”
“If something isn’t working about your training program, you should let me know.”
“Everything’s fine. I’ve been reading a lot— going through the list you gave me, searching the chess engines. It’s fun.”
“But?”
I huff out a laugh. “There’s nobut.”
“But?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, I promise.” But Defne is still staring, like I’m unsuccessfully hiding a shady murderous past from her, and I hear myself add, “Just . . .”
“Just?”
“It’s . . .” Something screams at me not to tell her.If you tell her, it means that you care. Which you don’t. You can half-ass this, Mal. You can do it.“It’s just . . . If reading all this stuff is supposed to help me improve my game, I’m not sure that’s the case.” Defne’s expression is not quite as open as usual, and I don’t know whether it’s because I want her approval or just her money, but I find myself backtracking, panicky. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing! Studying’s important— reading old games, going through openings. But if one never actuallyplayschess . . .”
I wring my hands under the table. Defne gives me a long, level look before smiling and shrugging. “Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
“Let’s play!”
She drags a set between us, white on my side, and adjusts the pieces. Then gestures at me to start. “No clock today, okay?”
“Ah . . . okay.”
At the start, I’m almost pumped. Reading about chess without playing has been some serious edging, a little like having a carrot dangled in front of me. Now I get to eat, and it’s going to beso damn good. Right?
Wrong. Because I realize soon enough that this is nothing like my game against Sawyer. I can’t immediately tell the difference, but after thirty minutes or so, when the pieces are developed and the play’s underway, I know what’s missing.
There was specific tension with Sawyer. A tight, heart- stoppingdance made of aggressive attacks, slithering ambushes, obsessive outthinking. This . . . It’s nothing like that. I try to make things more exciting by showing initiative, making threats Defne cannot ignore, but . . . well. She does ignore me. Defends her pieces, guards her king, makes some silent filler moves, and that’s about it.
We’ve been playing for forty-five minutes when I try for a breakthrough. I want to penetrate her defenses so bad, I get a little reckless and lose my bishop. My stomach knots in a mix of boredom and dread, and I go back to playing it safe for a while, but— no. Something needs to happen. Her knight, for instance. It’s overloaded. It has to defend too many other pieces. If I take it with my rook—
Crap. Defne takes my pawn. Now I’m down two pieces and—
“Draw?”
I look up. She’s offering me a draw?No way. I frown, don’t bother replying, and try for another attack. It’s getting late. If I don’t make the next train, I’ll be home later than usual and Darcy and Mom will be disappointed. Sabrina won’t care much, but—
“Check.”
Defne’s queen comes for my king. Shit. I was so busy mounting an attack that I missed it. But I can still—
“I think we can stop now,” she says, smiling at me like she usually does— genuinely kind, amused, without a trace of smugness, even though we both know that she has the upper hand. “You got the idea.”
I blink, confused. “The idea?”
“What just happened, Mallory?”
“I— I don’t know. We were playing. But you . . . well, no offense, but you weren’t really doing much. You were playing . . .”
“Conservatively.”
“What?”
