Checkmate

didn't know why I did it. I don't even know how i did it. But the events that followed, changed my life forever.

"Why? Are the friends you're hanging out with safe? Don't you have any respect for your neighbors? How will I be able to face our community?" My mom bombarded me with the kind of questions that you don't know whether to answer or not. Today, she had found out by the gossipy leader of her church group what I had done yesterday. Mrs. Grace geller - I think she's the pastor's wife - told my mom I had broken a window to Old Man Fisher's house.

"i . . . well . . . ummmm . . ." I tried to explain my side of the story. The problem is, i didn't know what that story was. I was riding bikes with Carrie and Mark when we stopped in front of Bob Fisher's House. We threw a few rocks at the house and mine hit a window. The end. Normally, I wouldn't have done something like that but i thought Bob wouldn't find out, being blind and all. Nobody would have found out if Ms. Dogwood wasn't spying on us.

"First of all, you're grounded for a week. You'll pay for a new window. and you will spend two hours every day with Mr. Fisher. You need to have respect. Do you hear me?" The whites of My mother's eyes narrowed and burrowed into her brown skin. They looked like two marshmallows in a cup of hot cocoa.

"Yeah," I felt like a prisoner receiving my sentence in front of a judge. I had lost another battle against my mom, making the score five zillion and one to zero.

I solemnly walked into Bob Fisher's doorway. His house wasn't as decorative as ours. The furniture was stained and had holes. The floor had a thick coat of dust in some spots. The walls had changed from white to eggshell because of the fingerprints and smudges. I wondered how bob could live in a house that looks like this, but then I remembered looks didn't really matter when you're blind.

When i entered a smaller room, I was greeted by Old man fisher. He didn't stop,. he just kept on setting up chess pieces.

"come here," bob said, gesturing towards a chair opposite of him. I brushed past a black lab and sat down.

"I'm sorry for breaking your window," i gingerly touched the subject, in hopes he might say that he would pay for the window, but in fear he might get mad.

"We're lucky that we have the power of a pawn . . ." he said, making two rows of chess pieces. "We can only move forward and not also backward. We have to go out of our way to attack, but then you continue on with one more lesson learned and one less opponent."

"uh, yeah," I said, trying to make sense of what he just recited.

"you'll be black, Okay?" He asked. At first, I thought he was making a racist remark. I had gotten pretty used to the jokes and words. For years, my mother and i had been the only black people in our neighborhood. But then I saw his outstretched arms across the table, pushing all of the black chess pieces to my side of the table. I was about to ask how he could tell the black pieces from the white pieces, but then I saw that the black ones had grooves on the bottoms.

Quickly, i started setting up my pieces identically, closed my eyes and felt the features of each piece. the castles ridges, that king's small cross, the queens crown. From bob Fisher's point of view, each one was new and I could use my imagination to think of what the human form of the piece would be.

"The black queen always has to go on a black square," he said to me while rearranging my pieces. This is what made me wonder if he really was blind or just faking it, or was there something magical about the board?

"Whites always go first!" he moved out a piece I didn't know the name of. I decided to move the pawn - the only one I knew the name of - out two spaces.

Only several more moves and old Man Fisher had gotten to my king and cried "check", then "checkmate". we played three more unbelievably quick games. After each battle, Bob would say what kind of tactic he used, what his next moves were, and where my weak and strong spots were.

I was surprised by how quickly the time went. mr, fisher didn't have any clocks downstairs so I was as surprised as the Black Lab when my mother called.

"Is Olivia there?" she spoke loudly to Bob as if he were blind and deaf,

"Yes, Yes she is," he said, signaling me to come over to the phone.

"could I please speak to her?" She asked as Bob passed the phone to me. "I just wanted to know if you really went over to Mr. Fisher's house. I mean, you are a half hour late. I thought that you were with your friends. Will you be coming home soon?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me just say goodbye." I hung up.

In the next room, Bob was setting up a new game. I slowly walked by the dog and over to the corner. My bag and sunglasses were slumped over there. Just as I picked them up, I was startled when Bob spoke up.

"How about another game?"

"No, I really have to get going, See you tomorrow," I winced. Even though he fell silent, bob's features said everything. Then I realized something, this was probably his only enjoyment in life. My answer sounded too much like an excuse. Almost like I had spent the last few hours carefully writing bob's one letter life down in calligraphy and then crumpling it up and throwing it in the wastebasket.

"Okay, One more game . . ." I dropped my bag on the floor and sat down. Just as I got comfy, bob turned the board around. Now white was on my side.

"This time you will be white!" He cried Gleefully. I made my move, and he made his. This was the longest game by far. Minutes passed like seconds. After one more hour, two more of my mom's phone calls, and a bag of popcorn; the game smothered out to a stalemate. it wasn't a true victory, but I felt proud. When he complimented me on my protective barrier around the king, I felt a small tingle run through my mind . . . The kind of tingle that you get when you see your picture in the local newspaper. I felt really motivated and phrases from those encouraging posters around my school jogged through my head. I walked in Mr. Fisher's house like an arrogant queen. I left as a pawn; not as powerful, but with more of an understanding of where i am, where I was, and where I'm going.

Carrie was the first to notice my change. Whenever I said "Bob", she corrected me with "Old Man Fisher". She inquired on why I made a clay chessboard in art. When we played checkers, she laughed at me when I started making chess moves. I showed her my paper chessboard That I hung up on the ceiling right above my bed. She gave me a concerned look, even when I explained to her it was for playing imaginary games against myself.

"Hey Olivia, wake up! Guess what you were saying in your sleep . . . Guess . . . " Carrie woke me up when she spent the night over at my house. "you said 'There's another way, sacrifice the queen!" ! And then you started thrashing around a pillow like this! What were you dreaming about?"

"I was, I don't know . . . " I lied. Deep inside of me, I knew what I was dreaming about. I was having another dream where I had fallen into another battle of chess. The pieces became like humans and started fighting. Usually, my side lost. I would look up through tear-stained eyes and would be relieved to see my opponent wasn't Bob, but a faceless ghost.

Bob was the second one to notice that I was more interested in chess. He said that from the way I entered the chess room by the level of hardness I had when placing a chesspeice by his king before calling "check". Bob also commented on how much i had improved. WE used to be able to play seven of eight games in the three hours i spent at his house every day. Now we were lucky if we could fit in three long games.

I still don't win any games, but that doesn't matter anymore. I look at my games and see how I have improved and my strategy, even if it doesn't get completed. Did i play close enough attention to his rooke? Did I protect the king? That kind of stuff.

It's been about a month since my mom told me i didn't have to go to Mr. Fisher's house. i still go there anyway. Not because I feel sorry for him. not because he already has bought a new window. Not because anyone is making me. But because be are both worthy opponents and owe ourselves to each other.

I awoke in a cold sweat only to find myself back in my comforting blankets. i slid out of bed and checked the clock in the hallway. It read three o' clock in the morning. I snuck back into my room and just sat in my bed. i looked up at the chessboard on the ceiling. My last dream was the most confusing yet. The dream was like a puzzle where you tried to fit the pieces together, but they don't make sense. i closed my eyes and the dream came back to me.

my dream started halfway through a chess game. i was in a heated battle and searched for a new way to overpower the other men. Soon I started barking orders to my pawns. i could feel the claws of power grasping my body. Soon the bishop, the queen and the rooke were defeated. I led on my warriors to the square where the king remained. Then, all at once, the king fell to the ground. He landed face down. i ran to see what had happened. Trying not to look like a traitor, i pulled out my sword and and bent down over him. Turning his head over, I saw Bob's Numinous features stare up at me blankly. But then I woke up.

I Leaned over and picked up the cordless phone. Slowly dialing Bob's number, I raised the phone to my ear. I listened to the meaningless clatter of the phone for three rings . . . Four rings, Five rings. Between each ring I held my breath, asking what was the matter. After the thirteenth ring I hung up.

I ran through the cold streets to bob's house. I was so startled when I turned the block and saw ms. Dogwood and the flashing light of an ambulance. I sped past the stretcher and saw all my fears.

Lying face down on the chessboard was bob. The white King - still grasped in his hand - was also facing down. Then, i came to the cold realization that the move meant the king surrendered. But only a true surrender. Almost like a surrender against your will. This was the first chess move i truly understood. i mean, not contained to the red and black squares, but in real life.

i was the only person at the funeral of Robert Fisher. As i placed a white chess king on bob's chest, the true rules of life flushed into my body. One, though, stood out against the rest.

Black or white, young or old. male or female; we are all the same as our opponent inside.

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