We look up to see Brian, who can’t be more than a couple years older than we are but is trying his hardest to project Elderly Grandfather with his wardrobe, standing over us. The eyes of the club admin are displeased but trying to stay mild behind their wire-framed glasses. Judging by the book in his hand currently bookmarked by his index finger, he was hoping to be able to simply ignore us for the entire hour, and we are now a disruption of that plan.

Here’s where Old Evie would’ve made herself small and polite and pretended she didn’t need anything so he could get back to Elbow Patches for Dummies, or whatever he was reading.

But I am not Old Evie, and I’m pretty sure he is supposed to be providing instruction to those of us who need it. And chess may not be a “cool girl” game, but I’ve always wanted to learn. “Yes, actually!” I say sunnily, even as Sabrina kicks me under the table. “Could you teach us how to play?”

“You … want me to teach you how to play chess?” He pushes his glasses farther up on his nose. “Right now? Like, from the beginning?”

“That’d be a great place to start!”

He stares at me for a few more seconds, as if he’s trying to confirm I’m not kidding, and then he sighs, pulls up a seat, and shows us how to arrange the pieces, ending with the line of pawns in front. He’s starting to explain how they all move when someone else calls for his attention—a chess emergency, I guess—and he tells us to look up the rest on our phones.

“I don’t have my phone here, do you?” Sabrina asks me.

“Nope.” We’re not supposed to have our phones on us until after cocurrics, and I haven’t quite broken all my rule-following habits just yet.

“So I suppose we can just guess?” Sabrina picks up her queen and places it in the center of the board. “I feel like she should be able to do whatever she wants, including skipping over these loser pawns.”

“Agreed.” I consider my own pieces. “Bishop probably can’t go anywhere, being a very serious man of the cloth, right? But look at this little horsey! He can definitely jump over pieces and probably go anywhere on the board.” I pick up the horse and place it right in front of the pawn blocking the king.

“So, your whole skilled-with-games thing, that’s specifically a card thing, huh?”

“A hundred percent.” I glance up at Brian, who’s moderating an argument between two guys who clearly do know chess. “Think he’d mind if I whipped out a deck of cards?”

“Do you have a deck of cards?”