‘Well, that’s a start,’ Rich says with a smirk.

I take the white pawn and put it on its square.

Rich touches the top of each of his chess pieces, like he’s doing it for luck, but then I see he’s moving them a millimetre so that each piece is sitting exactly in the middle of its square. When he’s finished he looks at his watch.

‘Thirty-five minutes,’ he says, and then reaches across the table. For a moment I think he’s going to punch me, but his hand stops over the board. I look at it, then realize he wants me to shake it. It’s like he thinks he’s playing in the World Championships. I’ve never shaken anyone’s hand – well, just Jake’s, but that was ages ago in the tree when we pretended to cut them and be blood brothers. Rich will never be my blood brother, but one of Granddad’s rules was to always shake your opponent’s hand. I reach out and do it. There was something else I should remember now, but I can’t think what.

Rich stares at me.

I stare back.

Argh! That’s it, rule four. Don’t stare at your opponent!

Rich’s face breaks into a grin like he’s won before we’ve started.

He thinks I’m useless, just like everyone at school. What if he’s right? What if I’m about to embarrass myself in front of everyone? I stare at the board, try to remember what all the pieces are, all the things that Granddad wrote on the list. But after days of seeing squares and numbers, my mind is suddenly blank. I take a deep breath. Then another.

‘It’s your move,’ says Rich.

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I know.’

I can feel Rich staring at me, waiting. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jake standing by the door and Rebecca and the others have stopped playing. They’re all watching and waiting for me to make my first move like a multi-eyed monster. I pick up a pawn and move it to e4, then sit back.

Rich moves a pawn to c5.

I stare at the board. My heart is beating fast, but my brain feels like it’s stuck in syrup.

I move a knight to f3.

Rich moves a pawn to d6.

He’s moving too fast. We make four more moves. Each time it takes me two minutes, but he only takes two seconds.

The squares on the table start to throb every time my heart beats.

I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t be here. I close my eyes, hoping I can see a chessboard and the numbers, but all I see is black. It’s like someone has locked me in a cupboard and turned off the lights.

‘It’s your move!’ Rich folds his arms.