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“
It
was
okay
.
”
As
Beth
set
the
newspaper
on
the
green
plastic
hassock
by
the
sofa
she
saw
with
quiet
astonishment
that
her
own
picture
was
printed
on
the
front
page
,
at
the
bottom
.
Near
the
top
was
the
face
of
Nikita
Khrushchev
and
at
the
bottom
,
one
column
wide
,
was
her
face
,
scowling
beneath
a
headline
:
LOCAL
PRODIGY
TAKES
CHESS
TOURNEY
.
Under
this
,
in
smaller
letters
,
boldface
:
TWELVE
-
YEAR
-
OLD
ASTONISHES
EXPERTS
.
She
remembered
the
man
taking
her
picture
before
they
gave
her
the
trophy
and
the
check
.
She
had
told
him
she
was
thirteen
.
Beth
bent
over
,
reading
the
paper
:
The
world
of
Kentucky
Chess
was
astonished
this
weekend
by
the
playing
of
a
local
girl
,
who
triumphed
over
hardened
players
to
win
the
Kentucky
State
Championship
.
Elizabeth
Harmon
,
a
seventh
-
grade
student
at
Fairfield
Junior
,
showed
“
a
mastery
of
the
game
unequaled
by
any
female
”
according
to
Harry
Beltik
,
whom
Miss
Harmon
defeated
for
the
state
crown
.
Beth
grimaced
;
she
hated
the
picture
of
herself
.
It
showed
her
freckles
and
her
small
nose
all
too
clearly
.
“
I
want
to
open
a
bank
account
,
”
she
said
.
“
A
bank
account
?
”
“
You
’
ll
have
to
go
with
me
.
”
“
But
,
my
dear
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
said
,
“
what
would
you
open
a
bank
account
with
?
”
Beth
reached
into
her
blouse
pocket
,
took
out
the
check
and
handed
it
to
her
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
sat
up
in
her
chair
and
held
the
check
in
her
hand
as
though
it
were
a
Dead
Sea
Scroll
.
She
was
silent
for
a
moment
,
reading
it
.
Then
she
said
softly
,
“
One
hundred
dollars
.
”
