s1e3 doubled pawns
part two:

genius and madness

the week continued on smoothly, with mother taking advantage of the source of alcohol and me studying every waking moment and dominating every match i played. the last morning of the week i got to the match early, sipping on a cup of tea. i watched as the spectators set up the boards, making sure every piece was placed correctly and they all were even. today was the last day. today was it. i'd fall asleep tonight a winner, or a loser. as long as i won my next match, i'd go home with money, but i knew i needed to win. i needed to get my name out there, because its cincinnati today, but it could be paris tomorrow.

about half way through my first game, a crowd started to form around our table. this was a scene i learned to get used to over the matches, and it barely bothered me anymore. there was a point in the game, after bringing out his rook and taking my pawn, that i struggled a bit. his pieces dominated mine, and it definitely felt like the last day of the competition. where the players aare better and the games more intense. but just like that game with beltik, i figured out a way to fight back. and it paid off. after i beat him and the crowd applauded my victory, the people dispersed to show my mother standing in the back. she wore a big smile and clapped for me for a few seconds more.

"its so much more exciting than i imagined." she said with a fascinated tone.

"did you watch the whole game?" my eyebrows rose.

"of course!" her smile brightened, and so did mine.

the twins walked over and congratulated me, and mother's eyes seemed to perk, "Elizabeth, aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"

"sorry." i said, turning back toward the guys, "Matt, Mike, this is my mom." i crossed my arms in front of me. they shook hands with mother and she smiled over to me.

"well, i don't know about you young people but i'm famished!" it was almost noon.

"there's a restaurant in the hotel lobby." mike said, and mother hummed in excitement.

"show us the way!"

after trying to convince me to go after one of them quietly on our way over, she pretty much begged them to sit down and have lunch with us. we got into simple chess small talk as we finished our meals.

"i want to play in the US Open." i said, remembering our conversation back the day i played townes.

"you might win it." matt said, placing down his fork.

"would that lead to playing abroad?" mother asked, "in europe, i mean."

"no reason why not," mike stated, "they have to know you before they invite you."

"would winning the open make them know about me?"

"hell yes!" matt said, making mother chuckle, "benny watts plays in europe all the time now that he has his international title." i thought about our encounter the other day, how he refused to play here because he was too good for small matches like this one. he plays abroad every day, this was a playground to him. a boredom.

"hows the prize money?" mother said while stirring her tea, looking up with an almost devilish smirk.

"pretty good i think." matt said.

"and whats pretty good?"

"more than in the states."

"what about russia?" i spoke up, and they almost looked like they were about to laugh.

"the soviets are murder. they eat americans for breakfast!"

"i dont think theres been an american with a prayer against them in 20 years." matt finished.

mother looked at me, and must've detected the fear in my eyes, "we should probably go, we dont want to be late!" she rubbed her hands on her napkin and began to stand up.

"this one's for all the marbles. five hundred of them to be exact."

the match was intimidating, for sure. my heartbeat never calmed down through the whole thing, and i felt the eyes of the full crowd around me bearing into my brain. i kept my breath even, and my thoughts focused.

this was for all the marbles.

i was playing this guy named Rudolph, and he was a known master. his moves were the most precise, his face steady, it was like he knew he already won from the moment the game began. by the end, he had me crowded and left with a rook, a knight, and three pawns. it was not good. it seemed impossible, but my gut told me to keep going. that there was something i wasn't seeing, but could, if i looked hard enough.

the pieces caught my eye, and the visions of my moves made my heart leap.

knight takes bishop, check.

rook moves up. mate.

my mother was the first one to start clapping.

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"i've allowed twelve dollars for our celebration supper tonight," mother told me as we climbed the staircase to our room, "and two dollars for a small breakfast in the morning." her managing my money didnt bother me as much as it should've, i was just glad she was happy about this too. and we did deserve a celebration.

"which leaves over $300 dollars!" i smiled at her, and began on my way to our room.

"beth," she stopped walking, and i turned around to find her expression and tone serious, she took a deep breath as i walked back toward her, "i was thinking, perhaps you could give me 10%, as an agent's commision?" i could tell how timid she was, how she must've been ashamed to ask her teen daughter for money. but thats exactly what i said "lets make it 15%." i grabbed her arm and we walked back to our room.

article after article.
fake sickness after fake sickness.
plane ride after plane ride.

we toured the country. eager to participate in any match we could afford. mother played to go to houston for the holidays, so i could participate in the match their starting on the 26th. it felt weird not being home for christmas, but i'd be in texas, doing what i loved. what better holiday could i have?

"they're calling you a wunderkind." mother read from an article on that very flight, "im might have to start keeping a scrapbook!" she put the article down to finish her dinner, while i had devoured mine. plane meals were actually pretty scrumptious, "how's your meal?"

i nodded visously, "this might be the best christmas ive ever had." she laughed at that, offering me a sip of her gibson.

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"they say you're the real thing." the lady interviewer spoke as the male flashed a camera in my face as i held all my trophies. these people always asked me the same, stupid questions.

"how does it feel to be a lady against all those men?" dont know how it would feel anything different from normal.

"how did you begin playing the game of chess?" i learned to hate this question more as i answered it, because i would never see it appear in any of the articles published about me. Shaibel deserved better, he deserved to see his name written in one of my interview covers. i wanted him to. i wanted him to know i was still thinking about him, that i was still grateful.

"what do you think you're story means to other people like you? to orphans, to women?"

"do you often see the queen as a mother figure, and the king as a father, since you had neither growing up?" this one i found highly offensive, but trained myself to relax my heart rate, and answer with the following,

"it was the board i noticed first. its an entire world of just 64 squares, i feel safe in it. i can control it, i can dominate it. and its predictable, so if i get hurt i can only blame myself."

while describing the definition of apophenia, the lady interviewer said "creativity and psychosis often go hand in hand. or for that matter, genius and madness."

"you think im crazy?" i lowered the trophy and looked at her in the eyes.

"no, of course not-" she laughed, but was soon to be interrupted by my mother.

"i think thats enough, beth has studying to get to and school work to finish, yeah?" she looked at me for approval, and i quickly nodded, wanting nothing more to get out of this conversation. as she walked them out, she sent a disturbed look over her shoulder. one that, while making my eyes roll, still made me feel better about the situation i was just in. sure i was obsessed, but i was far from crazy. i was all too familiar with the signs of madness, thanks to the memories of my real mom haunting my mind at night. and i knew for sure i was nowhere close to where she had been before that car crash.

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for some people chess is a past time, with others it is a compulsion, even an addiction. and every now and then a person comes along for who it is a birth right. now and then, a small boy appears and dazzles us with his precocity, at what may be the world's most difficult game. but what if that boy were a girl? a young unsmiling girl with brown eyes, red hair, and a dark blue dress? into the male dominated world of the nations top chess tournaments, strolls a teenage girl with bright, intense eyes, from fairfield high school in lexington kentucky. she is quiet, well-mannered, and out for blood.

mother lost her place in the article as she entered a coughing fit. the article was from the reporters the other day. i told her to stop reading anyway, the words were only making me angry.

why focus on the color and characteristics of my eyes, and the impressing factor of my gender, when there were other pressing matters i brought up in that interview. Mr Shaibel? how i saw the board? how i saw the game? which they technically forced out of me searching for some cliche quote to make banners and posters of. i guess i wasn't interesting enough, the only thing that seemed to spark attention from readers was that i was a girl within an ocean of men, and i was defeating all of them. and it aggravated my every cell.

mother folded the paper up, placing it next to her drink, "i don't know why my body is so intent on sabotaging my brain, when my brain is perfectly capable of sabotaging itself." she shook her head, and took another sip.

i let my temple rest on my hand, looking over at the article, "its mostly just about how i'm a girl."

"well you are one." mother said promptly, smoothing out her menu.

"it shouldnt be that important." i said, shaking my head slightly, "they didnt print half the things i said. they didnt tell about mr shaibel, and they didnt say anything about how i play the sicilian." i leaned back in my chair.

mother smiled giddily over at me, "beth, dear, it makes you a celebrity!" she said the world like it was gold.

"yeah," i scoffed, "for being a girl-"

mother began to cough again, reaching for her drink. i leveled my head towards her.

"did you ever think maybe its the drinking thats making you sick?"

"oh please," she said somberly, "ive flirted with alcohol most of my life," she raised her glass, "to motherhood."

later that week, at school, the applie pi's invited me to their pledge party, whatever that meant. but i decided to go, they were popular and i had nothing going on. why not be a normal teenager just for one night?

i quickly found out normal was not for me. not one bit.

they asked me countless questions about my traveling and playing chess, but constantly laughed at my answers. like how houston was my favorite place i'd gone to so far, and how i hadnt had sex with any of the boys i'd played yet.

"there isnt anyone you've met that you'd like to..." one of them stopped to ponder in the middle of their question, "trade rooks with, or whatever." the other girls laughed and stared at me.

i squinted at them, "i mean, i trade rooks all the time, but it's not like that-" they laughed before i could finish. i still didnt get where they were getting at. whatever. there was no time to even think about boys while traveling the country. now that my rating was up to 1800, i had hoped to play in Las Vegas next month, in the US Open. and i had to prepare.

while the girl's ate cupcakes, and danced to 'You're the One' on her tv, i snuck out.

i was done being normal.

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