Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood

Maybe I should be grateful, but all I feel is deceived. Manipulated. Like when Dad kissed a woman in the arbiter lounge of a Hoboken tournament and told me it was nothing.

You lied to me. How could you?

“You really believe I’d ever think about it in those terms, Mallory?” His fist clenches and releases. He runs a hand through his hair. “You played the most beautiful chess I’d ever seen. I wanted to give you the opportunity to— ”

“How did you even know I was going to accept it?”

“I didn’t. I just hoped. You worked in a shitty garage, and needed out.”

“What do you even know about my shitty garage— Oh my God.” I take a step back like he punched me in the solar plexus. “Did you somehow have Bob fire me?”

His arms widen in irritation. “Who the hell is Bob?”

I don’t believe him. I can’t believe him, not anymore. “Did you have anything to do with me losing my job back in the summer?”

“I didn’t, but I fucking wish I had, Mallory.” He huffs impatiently. “I wish I could take credit for shaking you out of the life you settled for.”

I gasp. “I provide for my family, Nolan! I didn’t settle, I needed stability for them.” My tone is well past civility. He steps closer, nostrils flaring, face lowered an inch from mine.

“It’s easier like that, isn’t it? To hide behind them,” he tells me. “Use your family as a nice little cushion between yourself and real life.”

I lift my chin. “How dare you? My mom is sick and my sisters are— ”

“Taken care of, as of right now. As of a while. And yet, you continue to use them as an excuse to do absolutely nothing with your life, with your talent, with this thing between us— ”

“ ‘This thing between us’? You mean, the fact that we’ve fucked? Because clearly that means nothing. Or the fact that you’ve been lying to me for months? The fact that you manipulated me to go back to chess, to do the Challengers, to be your opponent at the World Championship? Because I can’t imagine what else you might be referring to— ”

“I love you,” he says plainly. Not a desperate plea, but a calmly stated fact. His eyes are so close, I can count the different shades of dark in them, and it makes me see red.

It’s not the first time someone has professed to love me after an ocean of lies.

“No,” I say sharply, “you don’t. If you did, you’d have told me the truth. If you did, you’d understand that my family will always come first. If you did, you wouldn’t have played with my life just to get to pick your next World Championship opponent— ”

“Jesus, Mallory, I didn’t— ” He takes a deep breath, struggling to de-escalate. “Listen, I know you don’t like this, and I respect it, but you’re starting to sound nuts.”

“And you would know crazy.” I say it calmly. Coldly. And even when I see something fracture in his eyes, I power through. “You don’t love anyone except for yourself. You’re manipulative, selfish. You’re alone, because your family hates you. And now I hate you, too.”

The door opens abruptly, but I don’t need to look to know who it is. I keep my gaze on Nolan’s beautiful, hurt, deceitful expression, and make sure to scorch into my brain the pain I feel in this very moment. Here they are. The lies, the betrayal, the disappointment I was waiting for.

Never stray, Mallory. Never believe. Never trust anyone.

My heart trembles, and I grip it tight enough to choke it.

“Hi, Defne,” I say, proud of the firmness of my voice. “Perfect timing. I’m ready to leave.”





I push my frozen fingers into my pocket, take a deep breath, and fail at not sounding too impatient when I say, “I promise your hair looks perfect and the scrunchie matches your top. Can we leave now?”

Sabrina takes her sweet time to fluff her hair, fix her lipstick, and grab her backpack, and pauses in front of me on her way to the door. “Amazing, how you were gone for”— she checks a watch she doesn’t wear— “weeks, and we managed to function perfectly and be late for school”— another pretend check— “a grand total of zero times.” She taps her chin. “It’s almost as though we don’t need you to boss us around. Food for thought, hmm?”

She slides past me. I sigh and follow, stepping over crunchy snow on my way to the car.

It’s almost like she’s not happy with me.

Then again: no one is happy with me. Darcy spent the three nights since Defne dropped me off sleeping in Sabrina’s room— apparently, her rage at me for deciding not to go to the World Championship healed the years- long rift between them. Mom’s a mix of tired, worried, and suspicious of me for being back weeks before my “double- pay night shifts at the senior center” were supposed to be over. Even Mrs. Abebe glared at me, for shoveling our shared driveway too early and waking up her toddler.

But it’s A-OK. It’s actually pretty fitting, because I’m not happy with anybody, either. Screw Easton for leaving that Adam Driver Wall Punch meme I sent her on read, and rebuffing my attempts to reconnect. Screw Sabrina and Darcy for making me feel unwelcome in the home whose mortgage I pay. Screw Tanu, Emil, and Defne for being all in on the puppeteering of my life, and screw Nolan for . . .