Page 18 of Chess Not Checkers
My phone buzzes next to my leg. The girls start to talk about which player was the cutest, though they couldn’t tell much with their helmets on. I grab my phone and unlock it to find an email from Professor Kelton, the chess club sponsor. The subject line isSchedule Change. I frown and open up the email. Chess club meetings are at the perfect time for my schedule. I’d hate for them to change, but maybe it’s temporary.
From:[email protected]
Subject: Schedule Change
To whom it may concern,
All chess club meetings going forward will be held on Tuesdays at 6PM so as to not conflict with the schedule of some of our student athletes. Let me know if you have any questions about this change.
Best,
Professor Kelton
I grip my phone tight. There’s only one student athlete I know who would have enough sway to make a change like this happen. I could be wrong, but I doubt it. Shepherd Kingsley hasspecial treatmentwritten all over him.
“Jasmine, you okay?” Saylor asks.
I catch all of the girls giving me curious looks. “My chess club schedule changed. I have to move it to Tuesdays at six,” I explain.
Saylor turns to her laptop and clicks a few buttons, then frowns. “That leaves you no time to get from cheerleadingpractice to the meeting. You’d have to leave practice early or be late.”
I grit my teeth. “Exactly.”
Whether I’m on time or late, one thing’s for sure: Shepherd is going to get an earful about this.
Chapter eleven
Inside Out
Shepherd Kingsley
I glance around the room and frown. Where is Jasmine? She’s been early to class and chess club every week. I’d think she quit because of me, but she’s far too stubborn for that.
“Good evening, players,” Professor Kelton booms from the front of the classroom we meet in.
Students turn their attention from the casual games they had already begun to him. I lift my gaze from the seat Jasmine should be in. Professor Kelton stands tall next to a man in an almost identical sweater vest.
“We have the pleasure of learning from a phenomenal man and chess player. Please join me in welcoming Grandmaster Jorge Santiago.” He begins to clap, and we all join in.
“Thank you, everyone.” Mr. Santiago raises his hands and offers a warm smile. “I am excited to teach you a bit about the game today. We will be analyzing one of my previous matches together.” He gestures to the projector screen, which is currently blank.
“After we get the projector up and running again,” Professor Kelton adds.
Laughter ripples over the room. Everyone turns back to their games or conversations while the two men tinker with the laptop on the podium. Still no Jasmine. I quietly slide out of my seat and walk to the back of the room where the door is. I’m not sure what I’m going to do out here differently than in the room, but the idea of something happening to her is bothering me. Coach may not want me to date her, but he would want me to look after her. Probably.
I head down the empty hallway, then out into the breezy evening air. The sun is lowering, the beginnings of a sunset painting the sky in soft strokes of peach, pink, and purple. I walk down the steps and stop halfway, scanning what I can see of the campus. That’s when I see her. Even from a distance, she’s unmistakable. Her dark curly ponytail swishes from side to side as she runs toward me. Her tan skin is on display more than I’ve ever seen in what I’m guessing is her practice uniform. Navy blue shorts and a fitted white tank top with the Thrashers logo on it.
She’s gorgeous. And, judging by the glare she’s piercing me with, not happy to see me. So, the usual.
I put on my best smile and say, “I was wondering where you were.”
My words do not go over well. She throws her backpack on the ground at the bottom of the stairs and digs through it, pulling out a sweatshirt. I’m grateful for the choice. I think I’d lose any match to her in this outfit.
“Someonechanged the schedule so it overlaps with my practice,” she growls as she yanks on the matching blue-and-white Thrashers Cheer sweatshirt.
My smile falls. “I didn’t know that you practiced on Tuesdays.”
