Impersonation and disguise. Schemes and subterfuge. Finally something exciting was going to happen at a chess tournament. Wang almost felt sorry that he wasn't going to be there to enjoy it.
Josh was stowing the book in his backpack when Wang's dad came upstairs. He motioned Josh to a seat at the chess table, and when they were settled, he picked up the white king and launched into the explanation that Wang had already heard a million times.
“The game of chess is a game of war,” Wang's dad said. “You must capture your opponent's king while protecting your own. If you lose your king, you lose the game. The other chess pieces form an army to protect the king⦔
Like most other things about the game of chess, his dad's explanation didn't make any sense to Wang. Chess was nothing like a war. There were no guns, no sword-fighting, no hand-to-hand combat. No one ever drew a weapon against his opponent and shouted, “Have at thee, coward!” In chess, no one ever disarmed his opponent with a single twist of his sword or pinned him to the ground until he begged for mercy. That was the stuff Wang wanted to learn at the fencing class on Saturday. He could already picture himself shouting, “
En garde!
” and advancing on his opponent with lightning-fast thrusts and blows.
Wang came out of his daydream just as his dad was putting Josh in checkmate.
“Hey!” said Josh. “I didn't even see that coming.”
“You must think three moves ahead. Know the mind of your opponent,” Wang's dad said. “Let's play again.”
Josh stared glumly at the chessboard. It was obvious he didn't want to play again. Wang knew the feeling.
“What's the point? I'll only lose,” Josh mumbled.
“If you lose, it is good. If you win, I have nothing to teach you.”
“But I want to win!” Josh protested.
“Then practice,” said Wang's dad, handing Josh's captured king back to him. “And learn.”
T
he front steps of Centennial High School swarmed with students arriving for the chess tournament. Josh stood to one side and waited in the cool October air until Magnolia showed up. There was no way he was going in there alone.
Inside, the main hall was hot, filled with people and noisy conversation. Kids of all ages were there. There were teenagers towering over their mothers, and little kids who looked like they should still be learning the alphabet, clasping their daddies' hands. Against the far wall stood a registration table, and taped above the table was a sign.
Welcome to the Centennial Fall Chess Tournament.
The BIGGEST Student Chess Competition in the City!
“Thanks for telling me
that
, Wang,” Josh muttered.
“Don't worry,” said Magnolia. “It's going to be fine.”
Two women sat at the registration table with stacks of paper and boxes of index cards in front of them. In the middle of the crowd, two lines of kids faced the table. Josh noticed that as each kid arrived at the front of the line, one of the women gave the kid a name tag and a folder full of papers. A lot of the parents were scowling over the papers and some were even arguing with the tournament officials, who were standing in one corner of the hall with clipboards and red badges.
“What're they fighting about?” Josh whispered. Magnolia shrugged. How could they be arguing when the tournament hadn't even begun? Maybe that was what Mr. Xiu meant about thinking three moves ahead. Great. He'd just shown up and already he was two moves behind.
If only he'd read
Strategic Algorithms
! Josh fingered the book that was sticking out of his jacket pocket. No matter how hard he'd tried, it hadn't made any sense to him. Instead, he'd taken a beginner's chess book out of the library, and he'd been playing games online all week. Hopefully, it was enough for him to bluff his way through. He still felt nervous about joining one of the lines that was moving, slowly but surely, toward the registration table. Once he registered, there was no turning back.
“Here's the sign-up, Josh,” said Magnolia, grabbing his arm and yanking him to the shorter of the two lines. “I'm going to look around a bit,” she added.
“Hey, wait⦔ But before Josh could finish his sentence, Magnolia had disappeared into the crowd.
Most of the kids in Josh's lineup looked kind of geeky, with pale faces and bad haircuts, but in the other registration line, standing right opposite Josh, was a friendly-looking Asian girl about his age. She had a copy of
Chess for Dummies
sticking out of a bag slung over her shoulder, and she smiled at him as he took his place in line. Josh smiled back. At least she didn't look like she thought her brain was three times bigger than everyone else's.
They were almost at the registration table by the time Josh worked up his nerve to talk to her.
“Want to trade books?” said Josh, taking
Strategic Algorithms
out of his pocket.
The girl laughed.
“It's my first tournament,” she said.
Me too, Josh wanted to say, but that would have blown his cover. Instead he said, “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she said. She looked like she would have said more, but her line moved forward, and it was time for her to step up to the registration table.
Josh watched as one of the registration women asked her name.
“Annie MacGregor,” said the girl.
The woman picked up a ruler and crossed Annie's name off on a list. Then she dug into a filing box and pulled out a name tag. Annie was just pinning it on when Josh stepped to the front of his line.
“Name?” said the other woman.
“Joâ¦uh, Wang Xiu,” said Josh.
“I beg your pardon?” The woman looked at him sharply.
At that moment, Josh realized the glaring flaw in the Dunces Anonymous plan. The flaw they should have seen right from the beginning, if only Wang hadn't been so excited about learning sword-fighting, and if only Josh hadn't been so worried about figuring out how to play chess. Anyone with eyes could see that Josh Johnson did not look at all like a Wang Xiu.
Josh looked around frantically for Magnolia. She was nowhere to be seen. He grasped his
Strategic Algorithms
book, as if it might contain some last-minute strategy to save him. He looked over at Annie, who had paused while pinning on her name tag. If I don't look like a Wang Xiu, he thought, she doesn't look much like an Annie MacGregor either.
He swallowed hard and turned back to the woman. “I'mâ¦I'm adopted.”
“You're what?” The woman pinned him with a skeptical eye.
“A-adopted,” Josh croaked.
“So am I,” said Annie MacGregor. She smiled at him again.
The two registration women looked at each other. Then they looked at the name tags. Then they looked back at Josh and Annie. Then they looked at each other again. One of them shrugged. “Well,” she said, “that's life these days.”
The other woman shook her head. “You never can tell, I suppose,” she muttered, as she fished in the filing box and handed Josh a registration package and a name tag that said
Wang Xiu
.
“Good luck.” Annie smiled at him as she turned to go.
“Maybe I'll see you around,” Josh said. Then he set off through the crowd to find Magnolia.
He finally found her in the gymnasium, where rows and rows of desks and chairs had been set up, one chessboard on each desk. A chart, taped to the wall, showed which kids played at which desk and at what time. A swarm of kids and parents crowded around the chart.
“Don't worry.” Magnolia pulled him away from the crowd. “I already wrote everything down for you. Your first game is at table twenty-six. You're playing a kid called Sean Lu. There're three more games in the day, and at the end of the tournament, everyone gets ranked according to how many games they win or lose, get it?”
“Why don't they rank me at the bottom right now and get it over with?” muttered Josh. Magnolia shushed him and dragged him through the rows to table 26, where Sean Lu greeted him with a distracted handshake. He was already completely focused on the chessboard and the game ahead.
Josh lost his first two matches, but surprisingly, he didn't mind. In fact, he actually found himself enjoying the games. The other players in the beginners' category weren't too much better than he was. He thought he made a few good plays, and sometimes he was even able to anticipate his opponent's moves. But the best thing was the quiet. Nobody had to talk to anybody else. Nobody bossed anybody else around. Everyone just sat there and played. It was very peaceful.
After the second game he had lunch with Magnolia in the cafeteria and told her about his close call at the registration table. Then they went back up to the gym to check the schedule for the next game. Josh was hoping he might play against Annie MacGregor, but no such luck.
“Look at this.” Magnolia snickered. “You're playing a kid called Wilmot Binkle at table nineteen.”
“Hmm,” Josh said as they made their way to the table. He didn't think it was very nice to snicker at other kids' names, especially since his own name tag said
Wang Xiu
.
Wilmot Binkle was a sweaty kid. That was the first thing Josh noticed. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. Sweat soaked the underarms of his
Math Camp
T-shirt. And when Josh shook his hand, it felt like he was squeezing out a damp, sweaty sponge.
Behind Wilmot stood his dad, a tall straight-backed man with a pointy little beard and eyes like a hungry lizard. He scowled at Josh. Josh hoped that Magnolia, who was standing behind him, was scowling right back.
“Good luck,” Josh whispered to Wilmot Binkle as they sat down to play. The kid shot him a look of despair. Then the match began.
Josh didn't know much about chess, but even he could tell that Wilmot Binkle wasn't very good. To make matters worse, every time the poor kid lifted his hand to move a piece, his dad would cough or clear his throat or shuffle his feet. Then Wilmot would glance up at him, sweatily, trying to figure out what Mr. Binkle wanted him to do.
Josh played a steady game, using the simple strategies he'd learned from his beginners' chess book. He captured the opposing rook and both knights. Then Wilmot made a mistake and left his queen straight in the path of Josh's bishop. Feeling both excited and guilty, Josh captured the queen. Five moves later, he put Wilmot's king in checkmate.
“Good game,” said Josh, extending his hand for Wilmot to shake. Wilmot reached his hand out, smiling, but the boy's dad interrupted.
“Tell me,” said Mr. Binkle, pinning Josh with his lizardy eyes. “How did you get a name like Wang Xiu?”
Josh, caught off guard, raised a fumbling hand to his name tag.
“Iâ¦I was adopted,” Josh squeaked. He twisted around and looked at Magnolia. She stepped forward to stand beside him.
“A likely story!” Mr. Binkle growled.
“Dad, please,” pleaded Wilmot. He shot an apologetic glance at Josh and tugged at his father's shirtsleeve. But Mr. Binkle was already waving his arm at a tournament official, who began to make his way toward their table through the rows of kids, many still intent on their chess games.
“What seems to be the problem?” said the official, arriving on the scene. He was a wooly-haired old man wearing a baggy suit and thick glasses, and he carried a sheaf of papers on a clipboard.
“This boy, who just beat my son, claims to be Wang Xiu.” Mr. Binkle pointed an accusing finger at Josh. “It's obviously a case of fraudulent impersonation.”
“Iâ¦Iâ¦,” Josh began, but he found himself, like Wilmot, breaking into a sweat under Mr. Binkle's stare.
“He's adopted!” Magnolia broke in, taking another step forward.
“And who are you?” Mr. Binkle demanded.
“I'm his twin sister,” said Magnolia. “Ping Xiu.”
“Oh, this is getting more and more unbelievable!” Mr. Binkle threw his arms in the air.
Magnolia ignored him. She turned toward the tournament official and let out a deep, dramatic sigh.
“You see, sir, our mother was a Canadian missionary in China,” Magnolia began in a heartrending voice.
“She was young and innocent when she fell in love with an Australian missionary doctor. But he abandoned her when she got pregnant and left her to face the cruel world all alone. Fearing her condition would bring shame on the whole mission, the nuns forced her to leave. But luckily, she had made friends with some poor rice farmers, the Xius, who were unable to have children of their own! She died in childbirth on the floor of their hut, and they adopted usâher twin babiesâgiving us the names they had yearned to give their own son and daughter. By good fortune, a kind priest had given my mother a pair of golden candlesticks before she left. Our new parents sold them to pay for a smuggler to take us all to Canada, where we were accepted as refugees, thanks to the letter that my mother had written on her deathbed, explaining the entire story.”
Having finished her tragic recital, Magnolia burst into tears. Josh stared at her in astonishment.
“There, there,” said the tournament official, patting her on the head.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” raged Mr. Binkle.
“Dad, please,” begged Wilmot. Beads of sweat were running down his face and trickling under the collar of his T-shirt.
“Really, Mr. Binkle, haven't these poor orphans suffered enough hardships already?” said the tournament official sternly. “As far as I'm concerned, young Wang here has won the match fair and square.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!” exclaimed Magnolia, turning a pair of adoring eyes on him.
Mr. Binkle grabbed his son by the hand and shot a look of disgust at everyone around him.
“You haven't heard the last of this!” he cried. “I'm taking this to the board of directors!”
Mr. Binkle marched off through the rows of desks, dragging Wilmot behind him. But Josh folded his hands together and bowed very low to the tournament official, in what he imagined to be a Chinese gesture of gratitude.