was. He looked like the slightest sound or movement might pulverize him.
I stepped closer so I could see the pieces. He was indeed a rook down. It was a complex position, but his opponent, Marciano—a rail-thin college-age supernerd wearing a Star Trek T-shirt—looked supremely confident. This was his chance to beat a grandmaster and he was going for it. As I watched, he lifted his queen and slammed it down so hard the table shook. When a supernerd attacks, it can be frightening.
My father didn’t hesitate. He slammed down a knight even more furiously in counterattack. “Check,” he said.
The supernerd shrugged and took Dad’s knight. Now my father was a rook and a knight down.
A shocked whisper went up from the small crowd watching the game. I saw George Liszt stand up from board two and walk over to take a look.
“Check,” my father announced again, this time moving a bishop far across its diagonal.
The expert took a little longer this time.
George Liszt smiled and sat back down at his game.
I felt someone walk up next to me and saw that it was Liu. I was surprised to see her there—her concentration on our own game had been total. But now she was watching my father play, and she threw a quick and curious glance at me, too.
Dad made two more rapid moves, and suddenly the geeky expert saw the trap he had fallen into. He might be up a rook and a knight, but he was about to get force mated and even I could see that there was no way out. He might get checkmated in two moves, or he could prolong it to five or six, but it was coming. He looked up at the ceiling, back at the chessboard, muttered something that sounded like a Klingon curse, and exhaled a long breath. Then he reached out and flicked over his king. “Awesome game, man.”
My father shook his hand.
There was a rustle on the dais. I realized that the small crowd was applauding. “Quiet, quiet,” a tournament official scolded. “You must be silent.”
The applause quickly faded as the crowd began to break up, but not before George Liszt’s voice called out two words from table number two, in a tone straight from a horror movie: “Heeeee’s baaaaccckkkkk!”
I returned to my board and sat down, and Liu sat facing me. I fought hard for another thirty minutes, but she was just too strong. Our chess coach didn’t like us to ever resign. “Don’t give up,” he always said. “Your opponent can make a mistake up to the very last move. Sit and get checkmated.” But after more than an hour of tough chess, I knocked over my king. “Good game,” I whispered.
“Really good,” she admitted. “For a pushover, you played one hell of a game.”
We reported our result to the scorer’s table, and then we walked out the gaping doors into the ballroom lobby. “My mom’s still playing,” Liu said. “I saw her when we walked by.”
“My dad’s probably up in our room,” I replied. “Decompressing from that first game.”
“Who could blame him, after that?” she asked. “A rook sacrifice, and the forced mate was gorgeous. He really hasn’t played in thirty years?”
“Nope,” I told her. “I should probably go check on him. Nice meeting you, Liu. Good luck the rest of the way.” I held out my hand.
She looked back at me and took my hand. “Good luck to you.” Her hand still felt small and warm, and this time when we shook she gave me a little squeeze. “Can I ask you one question? You really don’t know why your father gave up chess?”
“I don’t have a clue,” I told her. “Whatever happened, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He did tell me one possible reason, but I don’t think he was being serious.”
“What did he say?” she asked.
I looked into Liu’s glittering black eyes. “That he quit because he realized that playing in chess tournaments was a really bad way of trying to meet a nice girl.”
She stuck out her tongue at me, and I turned away and headed for the elevators.
11
I let myself into
I stepped closer so I could see the pieces. He was indeed a rook down. It was a complex position, but his opponent, Marciano—a rail-thin college-age supernerd wearing a Star Trek T-shirt—looked supremely confident. This was his chance to beat a grandmaster and he was going for it. As I watched, he lifted his queen and slammed it down so hard the table shook. When a supernerd attacks, it can be frightening.
My father didn’t hesitate. He slammed down a knight even more furiously in counterattack. “Check,” he said.
The supernerd shrugged and took Dad’s knight. Now my father was a rook and a knight down.
A shocked whisper went up from the small crowd watching the game. I saw George Liszt stand up from board two and walk over to take a look.
“Check,” my father announced again, this time moving a bishop far across its diagonal.
The expert took a little longer this time.
George Liszt smiled and sat back down at his game.
I felt someone walk up next to me and saw that it was Liu. I was surprised to see her there—her concentration on our own game had been total. But now she was watching my father play, and she threw a quick and curious glance at me, too.
Dad made two more rapid moves, and suddenly the geeky expert saw the trap he had fallen into. He might be up a rook and a knight, but he was about to get force mated and even I could see that there was no way out. He might get checkmated in two moves, or he could prolong it to five or six, but it was coming. He looked up at the ceiling, back at the chessboard, muttered something that sounded like a Klingon curse, and exhaled a long breath. Then he reached out and flicked over his king. “Awesome game, man.”
My father shook his hand.
There was a rustle on the dais. I realized that the small crowd was applauding. “Quiet, quiet,” a tournament official scolded. “You must be silent.”
The applause quickly faded as the crowd began to break up, but not before George Liszt’s voice called out two words from table number two, in a tone straight from a horror movie: “Heeeee’s baaaaccckkkkk!”
I returned to my board and sat down, and Liu sat facing me. I fought hard for another thirty minutes, but she was just too strong. Our chess coach didn’t like us to ever resign. “Don’t give up,” he always said. “Your opponent can make a mistake up to the very last move. Sit and get checkmated.” But after more than an hour of tough chess, I knocked over my king. “Good game,” I whispered.
“Really good,” she admitted. “For a pushover, you played one hell of a game.”
We reported our result to the scorer’s table, and then we walked out the gaping doors into the ballroom lobby. “My mom’s still playing,” Liu said. “I saw her when we walked by.”
“My dad’s probably up in our room,” I replied. “Decompressing from that first game.”
“Who could blame him, after that?” she asked. “A rook sacrifice, and the forced mate was gorgeous. He really hasn’t played in thirty years?”
“Nope,” I told her. “I should probably go check on him. Nice meeting you, Liu. Good luck the rest of the way.” I held out my hand.
She looked back at me and took my hand. “Good luck to you.” Her hand still felt small and warm, and this time when we shook she gave me a little squeeze. “Can I ask you one question? You really don’t know why your father gave up chess?”
“I don’t have a clue,” I told her. “Whatever happened, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He did tell me one possible reason, but I don’t think he was being serious.”
“What did he say?” she asked.
I looked into Liu’s glittering black eyes. “That he quit because he realized that playing in chess tournaments was a really bad way of trying to meet a nice girl.”
She stuck out her tongue at me, and I turned away and headed for the elevators.
11
I let myself into
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