Ход королевы
Chapter 1
InGeneralScience,MissHadleyhadspokenofmagnets,of“linesofforce.”Beth,nearlyasleepwithboredom,hadwakedupsuddenly.Linesofforce:bishopsondiagonals;rooksonfiles.
Theseatsinaclassroomcouldbelikethesquares.IftheredhairedboynamedRalphwereaknight,shecouldpickhimupandmovehimtwoseatsupandoneover,settinghimontheemptyseatnexttoDenise.ThiswouldcheckBertrand,whosatinthefrontrowandwas,shedecided,theking.Shesmiled,thinkingofit.Joleneandshehadnotspokenforoveraweek,andBethhadnotletherselfcry.Shewasalmostnineyearsold,andshedidn’tneedJolene.Itdidn’tmatterhowshefeltaboutit.Shedidn’tneedJolene.
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“Here,”Mr.Shaibelsaid.Hehandedhersomethinginabrownpaperbag.ItwasnoononSunday.Sheslippedthebagopen.Initwasaheavypaperbackbook—ModernChessOpenings.
Incredulously,shebegantoturnthepages.Itwasfilledwithlongverticalcolumnsofchessnotations.Therewerelittlechessboarddiagramsandchapterheadslike“Queen’sPawnOpenings”and“IndianDefenseSystems.”Shelookedup.
Hewasscowlingather.“It’sthebestbookforyou,”hesaid.“Itwilltellyouwhatyouwanttoknow.”
Shesaidnothingbutsatdownonhermilkcratebehindtheboard,holdingthebooktightlyinherlap,andwaitedtoplay.
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Englishwasthedullestclass,withMr.Espero’sslowvoiceandthepoetswithnameslikeJohnGreenleafWhittierandWilliamCullenBryant.“Whither,midstfallingdew,/Whileglowtheheavenswiththelaststepsofday…”Itwasstupid.
