Prologue

"When we get there, you'll have to be very quiet," Mom told Jimmy, Olivia, and I on the way to Nana and Papa's house.

"Be vewy vewy quiet," I echoed. "We're hunting wabbits."

"Exactly, Isabelle. Papa is very sick and he might be sleeping."

We pulled up in front of Nana and Papa's house. Mom and Dad pulled the food out of the trunk while I held on to a balloon, my present for going to a restaurant on my birthday. It was Papa's birthday too: that was why we were here.

We entered the house. Sure enough, Papa was asleep on the navy blue armchair. His hair was silver all the way through and his deep blue eyes were closed. Papa's face was wrinkled like my fingers when I was swimming.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAPA!" I shouted. "Let's play chess!"

"What did Mom say?" Olivia whispered. "You're supposed to be quiet." She was quite the rule-abider for a four-year old.

Papa's eyes snapped open. "Isabelle, you know I can't resist a good game of chess. Olivia, can you turn on some music?"

When Papa said music, he meant The Playlist. Papa had the strangest music taste of anyone I've ever met. The Playlist was a strange mix of classical, smooth jazz, classic rock, 80s music, pop-punk, alternative, and Michael Bublé Christmas songs. I got out the chess set as Rachmaninov's melodies filled the room.

"Here Papa," I said, putting the chess set on a table next to Papa. Papa's shaking hand moved his pawn forward. I did the same with mine.

Twenty minutes later, Papa's bishop, rook, and queen had me cornered. Checkmate.

"Good game, Isabelle," Papa said.

"You too, Papa," I replied.

"You know, it will be sad, sad day in the Wright household when you finally beat me at chess."

I nodded. "Dinner's ready," Mom said. Since Papa was too sick to go out, we brought Chinese to him. We all sat around Papa eating our food. We passed around presents. All of the memories of that have faded to black, except one.

There was a little box, which Jimmy handed me. "It's from Papa," he said.

I tore the wrapping paper and found a small bishop keychain and a Magic 8 Ball. I smiled. "Thank you Papa," I said politely.

"You're welcome Isabelle. Those were my toys when I was young, but I thought you should have them."

I stood up and gave Papa a great big hug. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too."

The song changed to "Welcome To The Black Parade."

When I was a young boy

My father took me into the city

To see a marching band

Papa slumped back into his armchair. A few minutes later, we said goodbye to Nana and left.

The next day, Mom greeted us with teary eyes. Just seeing Mom cry made me want to cry too. She told us the news: Papa had passed away in his sleep. Still in my pocket was the Magic 8 Ball and I looked up and wondered if Papa was still playing chess in heaven.