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“Donotpatronize me.”
I snap my mouth shut and retreat one step.
“I saw you were matched with Kareem,” Defne says. “He’s an excellent player.”
“He is.”
“How did it go?”
I glance around, uneasy, considering the chances that Oz will attack me. I can probably take him, but what if he whips a sickle out of his pocket? He’sdefinitelythe portable- sickle type. “I got really lucky. He wasn’t in great shape, so— ”
“Oh my God.” She leaps to her feet. “Youwon?”
“I’m sure it was just— ”
She hugs me around the neck. “This isfantastic, Mal! Why are you idling here?”
“It was just a game. I didn’t— ”
“You advanced toquarterfinals!”
Wait. “Wait.” What? “What? There is no way we’re already at quarterfinals.”
“Did you evenglanceat the tournament board?” Oz asks acerbically.
“I’m . . . not sure where it is. I was kind of taking it game by game— ”
“Pearls before swine,” Oz mutters.
I frown. “Did you just call me a pig— ”
Defne pulls me back inside the building, excitedly blubbering about my FIDE rating. I expect her to lead me back to the large tournament room, but she takes a sharp turn left.
“Where are we— ”
“The quarters are in here.” She gives me a long, appraising glance. “Did you want to put on makeup?”
“Why would I want to put on makeup?”
“Oh, you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that you should.” She gives me an apologetic glance. “You look fantastic. Youalwaysdo. Plus, bodies are but the meaty shells we dwell inside as we move about the mortal plane. No need to doll them up for the cameras— ”
“Thecameras?”
“Yeah. Lots of close- ups, too. Come on, we’re late.”
The new location is smaller, glitzier, and more crowded. There are dozens of chairs rapidly filling up, and people whisper excitedly, like the nextFast & Furiousmovie is about to be screened. All the seats are facing a dais with a row of fourboards. The chess sets are fancy. The clocks are fancy. Even the water bottles are fancy— Fiji? At three bucks a pop?Really?
“The cameras film each set of players and their board, and the matches are live streamed on those large screens behind the dais. And”— she points to the side— “the commentators are over there.”
“Commentators?”
“Don’t worry. They work for various streaming services and TV channels. You won’t have to listen to them narrate your every blunder.” Jesus. “The tournament director will call you onstage, but— ”
“Here we are,” an announcer starts. “Board one, Malte Koch and Ilya Miroslav. Board two, Mallory Greenleaf and Benul Jackson. Board three, Li Wei and Nolan Sawyer. Board four— ”
Anxiety knots inside me. I turn to Defne. “What happens if I win?”
Defne gives me a confused look. “You move to semifinals.”
