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Shaibel
said
nothing
,
did
not
even
register
the
question
with
a
movement
of
his
head
.
Distant
voices
from
above
were
singing
“
Bringing
in
the
Sheaves
.
”
She
waited
for
several
minutes
.
Her
voice
almost
broke
with
the
effort
of
her
words
,
but
she
pushed
them
out
,
anyway
:
“
I
want
to
learn
to
play
chess
.
”
Mr
.
Shaibel
reached
out
a
fat
hand
to
one
of
the
larger
black
pieces
,
picked
it
up
deftly
by
its
head
and
set
it
down
on
a
square
at
the
other
side
of
the
board
.
He
brought
the
hand
back
and
folded
his
arms
across
his
chest
.
He
still
did
not
look
at
Beth
.
“
I
don
’
t
play
strangers
.
”
The
flat
voice
had
the
effect
of
a
slap
in
the
face
.
Beth
turned
and
left
,
walking
upstairs
with
the
bad
taste
in
her
mouth
.
“
I
’
m
not
a
stranger
,
”
she
said
to
him
two
days
later
.
“
I
live
here
.
”
Behind
her
head
a
small
moth
circled
the
bare
bulb
,
and
its
pale
shadow
crossed
the
board
at
regular
intervals
.
“
You
can
teach
me
.
I
already
know
some
of
it
,
from
watching
.
”
“
Girls
don
’
t
play
chess
.
”
Mr
.
Shaibel
’
s
voice
was
flat
.
She
steeled
herself
and
took
a
step
closer
,
pointing
at
,
but
not
touching
,
one
of
the
cylindrical
pieces
that
she
had
already
labeled
a
cannon
in
her
imagination
.
“
This
one
moves
up
and
down
or
back
and
forth
.
All
the
way
,
if
there
’
s
space
to
move
in
.
”
Mr
.
Shaibel
was
silent
for
a
while
.
Then
he
pointed
at
the
one
with
what
looked
like
a
slashed
lemon
on
top
.
“
And
this
one
?
”
Her
heart
leapt
.
“
On
the
diagonals
.
”
*
*
*
