Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood

Author:Ali Hazelwood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Darcy loves the guinea pig hoodie I bought her (“though it’s a copout, as Goliath will not want to copulate with a 2D piggy”) and even Sabrina is impressed with her new maple leaf skates that I almost missed my plane to buy and nearly couldn’t fit into my luggage.

But her love for me comes and goes. “You’re the best!” she tells me on Wednesday, after I give her a ride to McKenzie’s. But on Thursday, when I find her crying in the living room over something McKenzie posted on social media, it’s “Why do you have to be so nosy? Why can’t you ever mind your own business?”

“If they find my corpse in a ditch,” I say to Mom, “tell the police not to look into her. She probably did it, but I don’t want her to spend her life in prison.”

“It’s not just you. She’s mad at the entire world.”

“Was I this intense at fourteen?” It’s such a ridiculous question. I’m still eighteen, but I feel as ancient as the lady from Titanic. Except when I compare myself with Easton and feel stuck in some pubescent stage.

“I once asked you to stop leaving the peanut butter jar open, and you called me a dictator.”

I groan. “Will Darcy be like this, too?”

“Yup.” She pats my shoulder. “Though she’ll leave the Nutella open.”

All in all, though, I come back from my trip to the puzzling revelation that no life- threatening emergencies occurred, and that without me, my family . . . did just fine. I’m half shocked, half relieved.

Oz and Defne are at the Pasternak, which means that I’m mostly unsupervised. I should use the extra time to catch up on the García Márquez readathon I signed up for on Goodreads, memorize the world capitals, dye my hair vomit green. Anything, really. Instead, I study Nolan’s games.

The fury of our last night in Toronto has settled into cold resentment. Nolan said lots of things about me, some of which were correct— by pure coincidence. Broken clock, twice a day. Still, he had no right. His question game was stupid. I hope to never see him again. Probably won’t.

But I do want to study the aggravating masterpieces that are his games, and my hands itch to pull them up on the chess engine. I revel in his delicious ability to wear down his opponents, deprive them of active play, and then strike like a tiger. I’m developing a more- than- mild obsession, and that’s probably why I’m thinking of him when I match up with a guy named Alex on an app on Sunday night.

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