The names sound so posh that I feel like I don’t belong here . . . Felix Schopp, Felix S C H O double P . . .

There! Felix Shop: row C, table 14.

They could have spelt my name right. Still, it’s not like they’ll have to spell it again on the trophy.

I turn and walk down row C. Some of the contestants are already sitting down waiting to play. Others are standing quietly, like they are doing last-minute cramming for an exam. As I walk past them I realize that any one of these boys or girls could be my opponent and I don’t want to make eye contact. I put my head down and count off the tables until I reach number fourteen.

I pull out a chair.

Me.

Table.

Chess set.

Clock.

That’s all I need. I sit down and stare at the board.

The hall buzzes with voices.

The hall hisses with whispers.

Thud! Thud!

‘Good morning, can you all hear me?’

Thud! Thud!

A man in a black suit is standing behind the lectern tapping his hand on a microphone.

‘Yes? Great! Well, good morning, everyone, I’m Mr Trent, the head of the UK Chess Association, and this is just me saying welcome to our tournament and to tell you a few details.’

I should listen, but my stomach is flipping over and over the longer this goes on. I stare at the board, run over Granddad’s rules in my head, but my thoughts get interrupted by Mr Trent telling us where the exits are and that in the event of a fire alarm we all have to follow signs towards the rectory car park. Then he tells us the format of the tournament which Granddad read ten times to me to drill it into my head.

‘And that’s it,’ he says finally. ‘Good luck, and may the best person win. On the sound of the hooter.’

Finally, this is it. This is it.

A hand reaches out in front of me. A girl’s hand. I shake it. My opponent picks up two pawns. I draw white.

The hooter sounds.

Down, But Not Out

‘It’s okay, Felix, at least you won the first game.’

I’m sitting on a bench outside the hall. Jake is bending down in front of me talking to me like I’m a boxer that’s just been knocked out. I’ve not actually been knocked out but it just feels like it, because after winning the first game I just got totally blown away in the second. I had my opponent in check after twelve moves but then I lost concentration.

‘It was his Doritos,’ I mumble.

‘What?’ Jake turns his head to hear me above the babble.

‘He kept munching on Doritos.’

‘What flavour?’

‘What?’

‘What flavour were they – Cool Original, Tangy Cheese or Heat Burst?’