The Pine Tree Park Chess Club would meet every afternoon by the outdoor chess tables if the weather was good; in the park coffee shop if it wasn't. Most of the members were old, long since retired. A few were unemployed. But they had in common a love of chess. Every afternoon, from just after lunch to just before supper, they would be there: solving chess problems, discussing chess and - of course - playing chess. Despite their gruff demeanour, newcomers were always welcome so long as they had a love of chess.

Of course there was one exception - Gizzard. If the Pine Tree Park club was a school of fish, Gizzard was a shark. He was a fantastic chess player - master level, definitely - but he had unpleasant tendencies. He was a bully, a braggart and (worst of all) a hustler. He could only get games with newcomers. Everyone else refused. While Gizzard was treated with politeness and a measure of respect, nobody was friendly with him.

It was a Saturday afternoon when the newcomer arrived. She introduced herself. "Hey! I'm Stacey. I like chess." And that was that. As a teenage girl, she was the centre of attention. Nothing untoward, mind. The club members were almost all parents or grandparents. They knew how to treat a young lady and a fellow chess lover. She was also skilled, and quickly worked her way up the club's chess ladder. After two weeks, she was regularly challenging the best players.

Three weeks after Stacey's arrival, Gizzard made his move. "Hotshot, eh?" He stood before the teenager, hands on hips. "But you ain't played me, yet."

"Do you want a game?" Stacey asked.

"Sure. But how about we make it int'resting? Put a bet on? Start at a penny 'n' double it for every piece captured. Winner takes all."

Stacey grinned. "Why not? You're on!"

As Gizzard went to set up the board, the other club members buttonholed Stacey. "You're playing Gizzard! He'll take you for everything!"

But Stacey just smiled. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

And the match was on.

At first everything went Stacey's way. She mounted a devastating offensive, massacring pawns and neutralising pieces. Then Gizzard retaliated, forcing a gambit and advancing row-by-row down the board. The others wanted to tell Stacey to give up, to cut and run. But etiquette kept them silent observers.

Fifty moves in, Gizzard moved his queen. "My game," he said with a satisfied smirk. "Mate in two."

Stacey moved her knight, long neglected during the game. "Nope. My game."

And it was. From that position she could take every one of Gizzard's pieces, drawing out the agony of his defeat.

Gizzard snarled and tipped his king. "I quit." He stood up to walk away.

Stacey grabbed him by the arm. "First, I reckon you owe me three hundred dollars."