“How many games will I play today?” I asked him.
“There’s seven levels this tournament. I think, like, one hundred twenty-eight opponents.”
“Okay. When will I have the provisional score given to me?”
“Yeah,” he said, as we landed in the registration line. “We’ll have to talk to the director.”
“Okay,” I said.
We were both really quiet as we waited in line. My stomach was in knots. I looked over at Salinger. He appeared casual and I envied him for it. I knew I looked as I felt—anxious. I tucked my hands into my sides.
“Salinger!” someone yelled behind us.
We both turned to see who it was. It was two people I didn’t recognize. They waved as they passed us by.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“That’s Diego and Akeem. Really nice. If you advance far enough, you’ll probably play one of them.”
Just then two boys around ten or eleven approached us.
“Excuse us, are you Salinger Park?” one of them asked.
Salinger looked down at them. “Yeah, little dude.”
The looks on their faces were priceless. Both their mouths gaped wide open and they glanced at each other before turning back to Salinger.
“Can we have your autograph?” the second boy asked.
“Sure thing,” he said.
They thrust a pen in his hand and handed them their registration lanyards. Salinger slipped their cards out of their lanyards and signed the backs of each one.
“Wanna know a secret?” he asked them. Their eyes grew wider, if that was possible. Salinger leaned forward a bit and threw his head my way. “You’re gonna want her signature too.”
The boys looked at me, but they weren’t convinced. My face grew hot. “Who is she?” the first boy asked.
“This is Lily Hahn.”
“Never heard of her,” the second boy commented.
“Don’t worry,” Salinger said, “you will.”
“What’s her rating?” the first boy asked.
“She doesn’t have one yet. This is her first tournament.”
Both boys looked skeptical, on the verge of laughter even. “That’s okay,” they said, putting their name cards back in their lanyards.
“A mistake, boys,” he said, but smiled at them anyway.
“Thanks,” they both said and walked away.
I glanced at Salinger.
“When this is all said and done, they’ll have instant regret.”
My face grew hotter. “Too much pressure,” I whispered.
Salinger stared at the side of my face. “Lily.”
“What?” I asked.
“Look at me,” he said as we progressed in line.
I did as he asked. “Instant. Regret.”
“I know chess, but I don’t know competition.”
“This week you’ve done so freaking well. I couldn’t be more proud of you. And guess what happens if you don’t do well in this tournament?”
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing happens. So no worries.”
“That’s not right, though, is it? Or do you forget why I’m doing this?”
He looked like I’d slapped him. “I didn’t forget,” he explained low, inching closer to me. “How could I forget? I only mean that we will find a way to get the roof and floors done regardless, so stop worrying. Try to have fun.”
I nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. “You’re right. You’ve been so generous with me. I’ll take your advice and let this be fun. I’m grateful to have you.” I paused. “As a friend,” I clarified.
That was awkward. I knew it was awkward. We’d never addressed the strange tension between us during our blindfolded game. I wanted him. I was certain he did not want me back. After his comments in New Orleans about Lyric, I wanted to make sure he felt comfortable with me. I just didn’t know how to convey that to him.
“You are such a dork,” he teased then laughed.
We made it through the line and the registrar signaled for the director to approach him when we checked in.
“Miss Hahn?” the gentleman greeted and offered his hand.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, and shook it.
“I’m Charles Odelay. Let’s set you up with a provisional rating.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where do you believe you lie?” he asked, picking up a clipboard and flipping through pages of names.
“We believe I’m at a twenty-six hundred, but we aren’t sure.”
Charles Odelay looked at me. “Are you sure?” he asked. He was skeptical, and it started to make me question myself.
“Yes, sir, she is, at the very least, a twenty-six hundred. Bernard Calvin himself trained with her,” Salinger said, bolstering me.
When Salinger mentioned Bernard’s name, I felt at least twenty pairs of eyes train on us at once. I sidled closer to Salinger.
“Impossible,” Charles replied, letting the papers he’d flipped through all fall at once. “He’s a recluse. No one’s seen him in years. He’s in hiding.”
“She’s seen him, sir. She’s trained with him.”
Charles stared at me. “For a provisional rating that high, we’ll have to use the Elometer.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Salinger assured him.
“Meet me in private room three-oh-two in fifteen minutes,” he said and walked off without another look my direction.
“What is an Elometer?” I asked him.
“It’s a test. Seventy-six chess problems. It should give them a fairly accurate rating of your skill level. That will decide your provisional rating.”
“Will I do well?” I asked, my heart beating a million miles a minute.
“You will do extremely well,” he answered me.
The registrar eyed me but didn’t say a word. He handed me my lanyard with all my information on it. Where it read rating, the letters TBD appeared.
The guy handed Salinger his lanyard. Where it read rating, his said 2412.
When we left the table, I felt those twenty pairs of eyes follow us.
That’s when I noticed it.
“Salinger,” I whispered, tugging at his sleeve.
“Huh?” he asked, searching the nearby map for the private room we were supposed to be in soon.
“Where are all the girls?” I asked, looking over at the lines again.
“What?” he asked, peering over to where I was looking.
“The girls, Salinger. Where are the girl competitors?”
“Girls rarely compete.”
“What?” I asked, getting nervous. “Why?”
He looked at me. “If I were to guess? I honestly think it’s because girls aren’t encouraged to choose chess. Everyone has these strange ideas of what a gender role is supposed to be. I don’t think they’re supported when they show an interest.”
I took in every single person milling about. They ranged from sixty to five years old, but they were all male. All of them. I didn’t notice a single girl.
“What in the world?” I asked no one.
“It’s not cool,” he said, then tapped a place on the map. “Here,” he said, distracting me. He looked at me, suddenly serious and I sobered. “Pee now, drink some water, let’s go.”
He took long strides toward the bathrooms. I had to run to keep up with him. I threw my bag at him and he held it for me while I peed. When I once again emerged, I took my bag from him and got a bottle of water. I cracked the lid as we rushed along the corridor toward the room Charles would hold the test.
I took a swig, replaced the lid, and tossed the bottle back in my bag. I breathed deeply through my nose. “I feel sick,” I whispered.
“Deep breaths, Hahn,” he told me.
We reached room 302 and stood in front of its tall wooden door inset into the wall.
“Tell me when you’re ready,” he said.
I took two deep breaths and reached for the handle, but he beat me to it and opened the door for me. He leaned into my ear. “Good luck, Little,” he whispered, sending shivers across my skin there.
I swallowed and walked into the room. I heard the door shut behind me.
“Miss Hahn,” Charles Odelay greeted. There were three other men in the room.
“Yes, sir?”