Page 58 of Chess Not Checkers
“What happened? Do I need to add him to my list?” Saylor asks, turning her attention to me.
I pull out my phone and open up our text thread. I’m not sure I could get the words out, so I let them read it instead. Marigold takes the phone and holds it between her and Saylor.
Shepherd: I’m sorry, but I think I need some space. I have to be focused if I want to accomplish my goals. I can’t make any more mistakes. I won’t be at chess club again, and I’ll be spending all my free time working on being the best for my team. I hope you can understand.
“He sounds so defeated, just like in that press conference thing, except for the end when he made that speech,” Saylor says.
“You guys watched it?” I ask as I take my phone back.
“After a loss like that, I knew it would be intense, so I left it on,” Marigold explains.
I bring the covers up to my chin again. “He’s not doing well. I could see it all over his face and hear it in his voice. But he pushed me away, even after we shared so much.” My chin wobbles. Fresh tears gather in my eyes. “I told him about my parents, about my dreams. He shared things, too, and I told him if things went wrong, he could come to me. I thought he would.”
Marigold sets a hand on my knee, compassion in her gaze. “I’m sorry. I know that has to sting.”
I wipe my face and draw in a shuddering breath. “What hurts the most is knowing that he’s hurting and won’t let anyone help him. Instead of acknowledging what happened and moving on, I know he’s ruminating on it. He’s going to work himself into the ground.”
Marigold’s gaze drops, her expression drawn.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, the confession as broken as I feel.
“Have you thought about fighting?” Saylor asks.
My brow furrows. “Fighting? What do you mean?”
“Sometimes all someone needs is to know there’s a person—or a few people, if they’re lucky—who will fight for them.”
I sit up out of my cocoon and scoot back against the headboard so I can face her better. “But I already showed him I was fighting for him, and he turned me down.”
She nods. “I get that. But what if to fightforhim you have to just…fight him? It’s not like you don’t know how to do that,” she says with a small smile.
“I think she might be onto something,” Marigold adds. “If he’s as broken over this as you say, then he might need you to shake him out of it. He’s got to be stubborn to have made it as far as he has, so it might take some yelling to get through.”
I wipe my face again with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “So I just go over to his dorm and yell at him?” I ask. That can’t be what they’re suggesting.
“Go and tell him that he hurt you and he’s an idiot for pulling away from people who care about him when he’s hurting. If that requires a little yelling—” Marigold shrugs. “Then so be it. Hope campus security doesn’t get called and go for it.”
I nod slowly, coming to terms with the plan.
“And what if he still pushes me away?” I voice my fears.
“Then he goes on the list,” Saylor says matter-of-factly.
“And I’ll write a hit piece on him for the paper. It probably won’t run, but I’ll write it,” Marigold adds.
“I’ll key his car,” Aurora says from the doorway, making us all jump in surprise. She’s in her typical outfit, layers of soft pink, gray, and white fabrics. She dresses for warmth and strips off layers as she rehearses in the dance studio.
“Where did you come from?” Saylor asks, which Marigold follows with, “When did you get so violent?”
A faint smile tugs at the corners of Aurora’s mouth. “I just got back from dance, and I’m not violent. I just don’t like when people mess with my friends.” She takes a step back. “I’m going to grab some ice cream. That feels appropriate.”
We all nod in unison. She walks to the kitchen freezer. I turn to Marigold and Saylor.
“She called us her friends!” Saylor whispers.
I grin. “She did.”
“I can’t believe she said she’d key his car for you,” Marigold says.
