Page 30 of Forgotten Sacrifice
“I don’t,” he agrees. “Crepi il lupo.‘May the wolf die.’ The wolf’s dead, along with the fool who believed in luck.”
“That’s really morbid,” I inform him, and he shrugs.
We reach the Chess Hall, and I practically hop out of the vehicle to make a beeline for the parking garage exit.
“We’re checking out the club; I haven’t said yes.” Vince catches up with me.
“Why do you always have to be such a buzzkill?” I grumble.
“It’s called living in the real word,” he tells me.
“Still sounds horrible.”
We catch the crosswalk, and continue two blocks until we reach the Chess Hall. My arms break out in goosebumps aswe enter the historic building with black-and-white checkered tile; it’s a surreal moment, something I’ve always dreamed about.
The front desk attendant greets us, and we sign in and receive a visitor sticker. “This month's community schedule with lecture and tournament information.” The man hands me the calendar. “Please feel free to tour the facilities at your leisure. I’m here if you have any questions.”
“Thanks. And if I want to become a member?” I ask.
He slides over an application and pen. “Admission to the club is extremely competitive, just so you know.”
“Good thing I’m extremely competitive,” I inform him, grabbing both.
Vince chuckles as he holds open the door for me, and we begin our tour. The first stop is the library, with a wall of bookcases stacked with chess theory books. “This is heaven,” I whisper, as several students are reading.
“Your version of heaven and mine are two very different things,” Vince whispers back.
I grab a seat at an empty table and begin filling out the application.
“Luna, a decision hasn’t been made yet,” Vince reminds me quietly, taking a seat beside me.
“This is my version of heaven, so be quiet,” I hiss-whisper.
I sign and date the application, turning it over to make sure I’ve filled everything out. “Finished,” I tell him.
We exit the library and round the corner, and I stop dead in my tracks.
“What?” Vince asks.
“Oh my God! That’s Wesley Morrell.” A grandmaster at sixteen, now ranked number one in the world at the age of twenty-three, he’s the rockstar of the chess community.
“Who?”
Not having time to explain, I shove the application at himbefore I sprint down the hall to catch up with Wesley. “Excuse me?—”
“Yes, I’ll take a bottle of sparkling water, thanks,” he says dismissively in a British accent, setting up his chess board.
“What?”
“Did I stutter?” he says in a bored tone, placing his pawns.
I bristle. “Did I stutter? Because I don’t remember saying I worked here.”
He looks at me for the first time, flashing a flirty grin. “Well, hello lovely.”
“Luna,” I correct him.
“Luna.” The way he says my name gives me the major ick. “You missed my beginners lecture.” He makes a show of cracking his knuckles. “But feel free to watch and learn from a master.”
