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Incredulously
,
she
began
to
turn
the
pages
.
It
was
filled
with
long
vertical
columns
of
chess
notations
.
There
were
little
chessboard
diagrams
and
chapter
heads
like
“
Queen
’
s
Pawn
Openings
”
and
“
Indian
Defense
Systems
.
”
She
looked
up
.
He
was
scowling
at
her
.
“
It
’
s
the
best
book
for
you
,
”
he
said
.
“
It
will
tell
you
what
you
want
to
know
.
”
She
said
nothing
but
sat
down
on
her
milk
crate
behind
the
board
,
holding
the
book
tightly
in
her
lap
,
and
waited
to
play
.
*
*
*
English
was
the
dullest
class
,
with
Mr
.
Espero
’
s
slow
voice
and
the
poets
with
names
like
John
Greenleaf
Whittier
and
William
Cullen
Bryant
.
“
Whither
,
midst
falling
dew
,
/
While
glow
the
heavens
with
the
last
steps
of
day
…
”
It
was
stupid
.
And
he
read
every
word
aloud
,
with
care
.
She
held
Modern
Chess
Openings
under
her
desk
while
Mr
.
Espero
read
.
She
went
through
variations
one
at
a
time
,
playing
them
out
in
her
head
.
By
the
third
day
the
notations
—
P
-
K4
,
N
-
KB3
—
leapt
into
her
quick
mind
as
solid
pieces
on
real
squares
.
She
saw
them
easily
;
there
was
no
need
for
a
board
.
She
could
sit
there
with
Modern
Chess
Openings
in
her
lap
,
on
the
blue
serge
pleated
skirt
of
the
Methuen
Home
,
and
while
Mr
.
Espero
droned
on
about
the
enlargement
of
the
spirit
that
great
poetry
gives
us
or
read
aloud
lines
like
“
To
him
who
in
the
love
of
nature
holds
/
communion
with
her
visible
forms
,
she
speaks
a
various
language
,
”
the
moves
of
chess
games
clicked
into
place
before
her
half
-
shut
eyes
.
In
the
back
of
the
book
were
continuations
down
to
the
very
end
of
some
of
the
classic
games
,
to
twenty
-
seventh
-
move
resignations
or
to
draws
on
the
fortieth
,
and
she
had
learned
to
put
the
pieces
through
their
entire
ballet
,
sometimes
catching
her
breath
at
the
elegance
of
a
combination
attack
or
of
a
sacrifice
or
the
restrained
balance
of
forces
in
a
position
.
And
always
her
mind
was
on
the
win
,
or
on
the
potential
for
the
win
.
“
‘
For
his
gayer
hours
she
has
a
voice
of
gladness
/
and
a
smile
and
eloquence
of
beauty
…
’
”
read
Mr
.
Espero
,
while
Beth
’
s
mind
danced
in
awe
to
the
geometrical
rococo
of
chess
,
rapt
,
enraptured
,
drowning
in
the
grand
permutations
as
they
opened
to
her
soul
,
and
her
soul
opened
to
them
.
*
*
*
“
Cracker
!
”
Jolene
hissed
as
they
left
History
.
