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“There are pictures of seven- year- old me mining his nose for boogers while playing Nakamura. Throwing a tantrum like a whiny brat after a loss at fourteen.”
“Oh.”
“We all have embarrassing phases growing up, but mine were immortalized. Whoever’sonlinelooking for me already has plenty to find.”
I remember Emil’s words:It’s not easy, growing up as a prodigy in front of the cameras. “Do you mind it? Your . . . troublemaker reputation.”
“You mean, total piece of shit?” He laughs softly. “It’s deserved. I was one. I can only try to be different in the future.”
He’s succeeding, too. I try to recall recent incidents and come up empty. “You still get mad at the people who beat you.”
“Is that what you think?” He shakes his head. “I get furious atmyself. For making mistakes. For not being the best I can be. And every timeyoublunder, you feel the same.”
“Not true. I— ”
He gives me a side look, and I fall quiet. Whatever.
“I showed Darcy how the pieces move,” he says quietly.
“How?”
“She had a set under her bed. Pink and purple.”
I close my eyes. A knot tightens in my belly. “I thought I’d gotten rid of that.”
“You should teach her yourself.”
“What does she need to learn for?”
“She wants to. She idolizes you.”
I snort. “She calls me Mallopee and constantly makes me ‘Lamest Greenleaf’ graphics in Photoshop— whichIillegally downloaded for her, by the way. Ingrate.”
“She wants to be like you.”
“I’ll never teach her.”
“Why?”
I turn away. The road is deserted, and the pines are becoming thicker. “Chess is a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Look where it got me.”
“It got you here. Tome.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, but his tone is matter-of-fact, not suggestive. He doesn’t mean it like that. He means . . . I don’t even know.
“It was you who saw him, wasn’t it?” Nolan asks. I look back at him, puzzled.
“What?”
“Your father. Something happened between him and that woman— that arbiter at the Olympics. You found out. Your mom kicked him out. I’m assuming you were estranged for a few years. And later his accident happened.”
I straighten. The seat belt tightens into my sweater. “How— how do you know? When did you— ?”
“I didn’t. But I remembered some rumors going around the tournament circuit at the time. About Archie Greenleaf. The rest . . . I just guessed.”
