Annaliese Wilhelm
Annaliese Wilhelm is an incoming eighth grader at Moore Middle school. She loves reading, writing about Salami, her fictional cat, and drawing silhouettes and landscapes. Her current favorite book is The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson.
Checkmate
The man with the white suit sat down at his usual place at the counter of Melly’s diner, set his briefcase beside his chair, ordered his usual burger, fries, and ice water, and waited. It had been a horrible day for him, and was not in the mood for this today. But he had shown up every day before now. This was not the day to stop.
“Here ya go, sir,” the waitress said, sliding his food towards him across the counter. She was younger than most of the other waiters who worked here, with curly brown hair tied back haphazardly with a green ribbon. “Say, ya are dressed nicer than the usual folks who come down here. Ya with them?” she said, pointing to the musicians in the corner, who were playing a jazz song the man hadn’t heard before. Most were in black suits and ties.
The man listened to the band a bit before turning back to the waitress. “No. I’m not with them.”
She waited for him to say more, but he offered nothing else. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. But Ii am new here. Just started yesterday morning.” She leaned against the counter, smiling mischievously. “Know all the gossip already, though. Half a waitress’ job is knowing her way ‘round the rumors.
The man said nothing. His attention was fixed on his fries. “Say, what’s ya name, sir? I’m Laura.”
The man didn’t answer. Laura walked away, muttering something about him being rude. It was fine with him. He’d see her other days, apologize. Besides, he thought, checking his watch, standing up, and walking towards the door. He had somewhere to be.
* * *
The woman in the black dress, with her hair up in a sunhat with a black ribbon, who had just arrived in Reynold’s park, stopped by her favorite stand near the big maple tree, and waited. It was a smaller stand, decked with trinkets and small souvenirs, various colorful windchimes trailing their mismatched music in the wind.
“Hang on, I’ll just be a second,” the shopkeeper called over her shoulder as she rifled through a box of smaller trifles. She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh! It’s you again! Hello!”
“Hello, Maya,” the woman said, smiling. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Well, you did just see me yesterday, so I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” Maya laughed, cheery and carefree. “I had some new fun souvenirs come in last night. I have this spinny keychain, these stickers, another few windchimes…”
“Sorry, Maya, but I’m not buying anything today. I have some business to attend to.”
“Well, you’re free to come back anytime if you need–or want–anything at all. Or you can just visit me.”
“I might just. See you later, Maya.”
“See you later!”
The woman in the black dress checked her phone. She was going to be late. He wouldn’t be happy about that. She started towards their meeting place: a small metal table with chipped paint and two rickety chairs that had seen better days, at the top of the hill surrounded by oak trees shedding yellow leaves.
This was going to be a long day.
* * *
The man in the white suit sat down at the table at the top of the hill in Reynold's park, set down his suitcase on the table in front of him, and waited. He checked his watch, glanced at the trees around him, picked at the fading paint on the table, checked his watch.
Finally, someone sat down across the table from him. A woman in a black dress, with a sunhat with a matching ribbon. The man looked up. “Fashionably late as always, I see.”
The woman smiled. “You and I both know that’s always been my style.” She reached forward and opened the briefcase. Carefully nestled inside was a chess set. She picked up the white queen. “Are you ready?”
The man picked up the black king and studied its carvings. “As I’ll ever be.” He looked up. “I’m going to win this time.”
The woman laughed. “That’s what you think. That’s what you think.” She smiled to herself as she set up the rest of the board, gently placing her queen in between the king and the bishop. She always won, and she would win today. Just like yesterday.
“You first,” the man said, putting down his king and straightening up in his chair.
“Yes, I believe I do move first.” the woman said, moving a knight forward.
The man glanced at her expression, which was unreadable, as always. He cautiously moved a pawn forward.
The woman smiled and took her turn. The game was on.
* * *
The man watched as the woman fidgeted with her hat. It was one of the nervous habits she didn’t know she had, but he’d learned to identify over the years.
She reminded him so much of Nila. The way she would brush her hair out of her face when she tried to concentrate, and smile as she chose the exact piece to move–they even looked similar, with the same piercing blue eyes. Maybe that was why he still kept coming back. Maybe it was easier to forget what had happened to her. But the similarities stopped there. This wasn’t Nila. He wasn’t going to get trapped like this again. He was going to win. Tomorrow, if not today.
* * *
He met Nila years ago, at this same table in this same park, back when the leaves were all green and the paint on the table hadn’t yet started to chip away. She called over from her seat, motioning for him to play a game with her.
He was competitive, and he had played when he was younger. So he, to Nila’s delight, agreed to just one game.
He lost. Badly. And so he played another round.
And another.
And another.
Soon they were meeting every day, even after he had won a game against her. When it got too cold in the park, they invited each other over so they could still play.
He learned a lot about Nila in those days. She was an orphaned only child who wished for world peace. She was a volunteer for several charities. Every morning she would go to the orphanage and teach the children there chess.
And he told her a lot about himself. That his name was Nathan Sanders, that he was an only child, too, that he went to the college downtown, that he wanted to get into engineering.
One year, for Christmas, Nila gave him a chess set, intricately carved, inside a briefcase he could easily bring to the park.
They were each the siblings the other never had, best friends.
Until she died.
***
The woman in the black dress was winning. She knew it by the way the man fidgeted with his watch, constantly checking the time like he had somewhere to be, right now, and she was keeping him from it. She knew it by how cautiously he moved each piece forward, hesitating and going back and changing his mind. She knew it by her strategy, which never failed to beat him and that, despite the years of playing this game with her, he never seemed to figure out.
Keep his attention everywhere else, and then hit him where he wasn’t looking.
Not literally, of course. But a few well–placed diversions while she snuck a pawn past his defenses would never fail to slip him up.
He didn’t know who she was, and that was fine with her. There was always really never any chance he might recognise her. It was five years ago, and only for a moment.
* * *
She was barely sixteen when Nila first came to the orphanage. They didn’t know who she was at first. She was just that one person with the box of ivory chess pieces that sometimes asked kids to play.
Nila came to her, and asked, “What’s your name?”
“Olivia,” she replied, hesitantly.
“Do you know how to play?”
Olivia shook her head.
Nila smiled. “I’ll teach you, if you want me to.”
And so she taught her. By the end of the week, she could beat anyone in a chess game. That is, anyone except Nila.
A few weeks later, Nila brought one of her friends, a man wearing a white suit, named Nathan Sanders. He played a few games with some of them, winning every one. Then Nila matched him up with Olivia, had them play each other. It was a long game, and it was close. So close. At the end they called a stalemate, a tie.
The man congratulated her, told her to keep practicing. “But I will beat you someday,” he said, smiling.
“Not if I can help it, sir,” she said.
They never saw each other again. That is, until four years ago.
* * *
“Check,” the man–Nathan–said, moving a bishop into place.
The woman–Olivia–pulled her hand back from the bishop she was about to move. How could she have missed that?
Nathan drew in a quick breath. She had slipped up. She never slipped up. He might win this time. He might actually win.
Olivia put her hand on her king. She could see a way to let him win, right now. All she had to do was move her king to the wrong place, and he would be able to get her into checkmate within a few moves.
But she thought better of it. She was playing this game for him. He would have hated it if, after four years of playing her, she just let him win.
Nathan saw her hesitate, just for a moment, but avoid the trap he had set. He had kind of been hoping that she would fall for it, but had no luck. It may as well be better; if she had fallen for it, he would have been a bit disappointed.
Olivia could just catch a playful glint in his eye when she dodged his trap. This was why she played this game for him. Why she always had.
* * *
A few weeks after Nila died, Olivia went to Reynold's park. The melting snow giving way to spring flowers was beautiful, but Olivia gave it no mind. She had a job she was here to do, and she was going to do it. But first, she had to find him. She must have searched the whole park, passing kids picking newly sprouted weeds, a black cat on the side of the road, people walking the paths. Finally, she saw him, at the table at the top of the hill, his head in his hands. There was a chessboard set up on the table in front of him. She pulled up a chair and sat down. Nathan didn’t look up. Slowly, carefully, she reached across the table and moved a white knight forward.
It took a few moments for him to respond, to even notice she was there, but eventually, he looked up; first at the chessboard, and then at her, then back at the chessboard. She smiled encouragingly. He moved a piece forward.
He did put up a fight, that was for sure. Despite being a bit confused as to why she was there, and who she was, Nathan played a good game. But Olivia had practiced. And she still beat him.
“I am getting a rematch,” Nathan said.
“I’m sure you are.”
“Tomorrow. Same time. Same place. I will win against you.”
She smiled. “Challenge accepted.”
* * *
The woman in black leaned forward, whispered, “Checkmate,” and walked away, hair blowing backwards in the breeze under her sunhat.
The man in white leaned forward in his chair, put his head in his hands, and sighed.
Just like yesterday.
Urban Fantasy Petco
After waiting for so long, my mom finally took me to the Petco to get the pet that I had begged for since I could speak.
As soon as the doors opened, I ran towards the back to find the pet of my dreams. My mom, chasing after me, nearly hit a sign that said, “Buy a dragon egg, HALF OFF!”
I ran past the griffins, the phoenixes, and the baby hippogriffs. I nearly knocked over a butterfly enclosure and a huge stack of chicken legs.
Finally, I found it. All on its own, in a tank in the very back.
My mom comes up behind me, panting. “You beg me for years for a pet,” she says. “And you want to get a goldfish?”
“Don’t make fun of it,” I say, hugging the tank. “I can feed it fish food and clean its tank and it will be my best friend forever.”
My mom raised her eyebrows. “What will you name it?”
I grinned. I had planned this for years, and today was the day I would finally reveal it. “Goldie,” I said proudly.
My mom put her head in her hands.