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“You’re certainly not going on a date alone,” Cole said, putting away the last of the groceries. “That’s all there is to it.”
Markus fumed, but forced a laugh instead. “It’s not a date! We’re just hanging out—”
“You think Hank would say any different?” Cole grinned his father’s grin as he leaned against the fridge. “Can’t help but notice you waited until he was out before you asked.”
“Yeah, so? You’re in charge when he’s out, right?” Hank never said explicitly but then again he never had to. Cole was one of those people that was in charge kind of by default, being the oldest, tallest, strongest, and most level-headed. Unfortunately, the jerk knew it.
“Right. Well, then, you’ll have no trouble doing as I say. If you’re taking Connor to the ‘chess café’, or whatever the kids are calling it these days—”
“You’re only three years older than me!”
“—you’re taking a chaperone.”
“Well…fine,” Markus said. “But does it have to be—"
“Heyo!!!!” Leo swung into the kitchen and tackled Markus into a headlock. It took Markus several seconds to free himself.
“I’m driving!” Leo declared, holding the keys aloft from where he must have snatched them hours ago. “And for this great service I’m providing to society, you’re buying me a mocha.”
Markus glared at Cole.
“You two need to learn to get along,” Cole said, pointing between them as Leo ruffled his hair and Markus fought him off. “To be honest, this is a lot less work than duct-taping you together for a weekend.” Cole grabbed Markus by the shoulder as Leo ran off with the keys. “Don’t let him buy drugs.”
“Oh, so now I’m the babysitter?”
“Come on! You know you’re Team Mom around here.” Cole winked and gave Markus a nudge, right into Connor as he was stepping into the kitchen.
“Hey, Connor!” Markus said, breathless, barely managing to avoid crashing into him. “Hey! Hi!”
Connor blinked. “Hello…” He stepped past Markus to get to the fridge.
Behind Connor’s back, Cole made a motion like pumping the brakes.
Markus spread his hands like, ‘I’m doing my best to ask him out with you right there watching.’
Cole made a face like ‘you haven’t asked him yet?’
Markus glared daggers at him like ‘DON’T EVEN START.’
By this time Connor had fetched a glass of water from the fridge pitcher and was heading back into the living room. Markus almost grabbed his shoulder—but stopped himself just in time. This whole ‘no touching’ rule that Hank had was, as Carl would say, ‘bogus’. He jumped in front of Connor instead.
“Hey, so—I was thinking we could check out that chess café I was telling you about?” Markus kept his shoulders relaxed and his eyes steady. Behind his back his hands tied the hem of his shirt into knots.
“Oh. I was going to do my history reading for next week.”
“For next week? It’s Tuesday.”
“I know. I like to get ahead.”
“Well—take a break before you start! I’ll buy you a coffee, you’ll study better.”
Connor pressed his mouth into a line, then looked down at his glass of water and chugged it in just a few gulps. Markus was a bit dumbstruck as he neatly washed the cup and set it by the sink.
Then they were in Leo’s car—or rather, their car, riding down the highway. Leo was a compulsive singer, both very good and very loud, so Markus had no chance of doing anything but singing along. Connor sat in the middle seat in the back between empty soda cans and Markus’ leather jacket, and watched them sing Shakira like he was attending a concert of the Royal Philharmonic.
He waited until they arrived and Leo skipped ahead to walk on top of a wall lining the pathway to the café, then said, “He didn’t get any of the words right.”
“Yeah,” Markus nodded. “He even speaks Spanish, I don’t know….”
They went inside and Markus watched Connor’s expression when he saw the wall of fancy chess sets available for rent, the case of pastries, the big copper-and-chrome espresso machine.
“I’ve never had coffee,” Connor admitted.
“Oh, you’re gonna love it!” Markus said, ordered them all mochas, and let Connor pick out a board and pieces. Connor chose a simple black and white board and a set made of pieces marbled in shades of blue acrylic. They matched his tropical fish socks and Markus had to bite his tongue to keep from mentioning it. They sat down in a back corner of the café while Leo dramatically dropped down on one of the armchairs by the fire. Markus hoped he was far enough away not to eavesdrop—it looked like the caffeine might help pull Connor out of his shell today.
Markus took a deep breath and set up the pieces. It took a second for Connor to notice. Usually people only realized when he was putting up the last few but Connor was pretty observant, and stared as Markus turned setting up the game into an artform. Maybe it was just his piano hands or something but he never hesitated and never knocked a piece over once it was up, and he could set up a board in ten seconds or less.
Connor pushed the pieces down, jumbled them around, and made him do it again, this time recording it on his phone. Eight seconds.
“Okay, okay,” Markus said, feeling himself turning red. “Let’s just play.”
Markus was good enough at chess that now, as he squared off against Connor, he could sort of choose who he wanted to play—did he play as himself, just a standard game, or as Connor? It never took long to identify strategies and get inside a player’s head, not with how much he played. Connor was clearly distracted when they’d played on his phone before, and it was hard for Markus to really visualize strategies anywhere but with a real-life board and pieces. So today Markus played from Connor’s point of view, basically setting up strategies that let him see what Connor was capable of rather than trying to win. Meanwhile he tried to engage Connor in interesting conversation about school or socks or Sumo.
Connor seemed to be moving his pieces around the board at random. Markus tried to match the style. Connor tried to catch him in a Jericho-Four Gambit. That was a good move! Markus started to escape out of habit, hesitated, then let Connor take the win. You didn’t run across a Jericho-Four Gambit every day after all.
Connor only frowned in reaction, and let Markus reset the pieces.
In the next game Connor used Zlatko’s Double Countergambit and Markus almost fell out of his chair. He didn’t know anyone else even knew those moves besides, like, chess code textbook authors. He shifted his strategy a little but of course let Connor win again.
“Are you letting me win?”
“What?” Markus started setting up the board again.
“I keep seeing you hesitate.”
“I—I don’t know, maybe you’re just really—” he startled as a piece went clattering across the floor. He must have knocked it over. He stood up to get it just as Connor did.
“I’m getting another drink,” he said, and his tone was as bitter as the day-old coffee in Hank’s home machine. He stalked off toward the counter.
Across the café, Leo waved at Markus and beckoned him over with his comic book.
“Geez, only two games? What’d you do to him?” Leo hissed.
“Nothing! I was trying to be nice!”
“Yeah, you’re always too nice.” He narrowed his eyes. “Were you a dumbass and let him win?”
“What? That’s not—no—”
Leo hit him with the comic. “I knew it! What, you hoping to build up enough brownie points so he owes you a kiss?”
“No!” Markus shoved his brother. “Come on! The guy’s confidence is shot! I was just trying to help him out!”
“Oh, you think rigging the system will boost his confidence? Pff, if that were true I’d get myself straight As.”
“Uh, are you saying you cheat—?”
“Look, the point is, he’ll only get confident if he has a real win. Guys in fear of parental reprisal are all the same.”
“Oh? Where’d you read that?”
“Some of us go to counseling. And trust me, you had it too good to fear parental reprisal. You’ve got, like, the opposite problem.”
“Which is?”
“You think you’re here to solve everyone’s problems for them. But this isn’t about you, it’s about him!” Leo whacked him in the butt with the comic. “Go come clean and apologize!”
Markus glared as he dusted off his pants, then hurried back over to Connor who had returned with a large hot chocolate.
“I could have bought that for you,” Markus said.
Connor came up from his drink with a whipped cream moustache. “Is this a date?”
“N-no, just—I’m the one that wanted to bring you here, and—” he sighed, held up his hands. “Okay, you’re right, I threw the match. Both matches.”
Connor nodded, almost to himself. “Richard would do that a lot. My brother. You know, just… let me win. He doesn’t like the pressure Amanda put us all under even more than me, I think. I guess he was just trying to lower the bar. He’d get in a lot of trouble for that.” Connor started setting up the board slowly, as if waiting for Markus to swoop in any second and do it better.
Markus didn’t. “I guess I just never met anyone as good as you, who’s my age. I was worried you wouldn’t play with me again.”
“What, if you won?” Connor smirked. “That’s assuming you would win.”
“I’m pretty good, Connor.”
“I think you’re gonna have to prove it.”
…Okay, fine. Markus rubbed his mouth but for the next match, he played as himself. He played to win. He kicked Connor’s ass with Stratford’s Variation and won in ten moves. The next game he used the Savior’s Defense and—
—found himself in check, Connor’s Queen pointed right at him.
“Shit,” he said as he looked for a way out that wasn’t just abandoning ship and getting chased around the board like a fugitive.
“I told you I’m good,” Connor said, watching him watch the board. Then his gaze drifted to Markus’ endangered king and his eyes widened. “Oh—!” then he sat back. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“I’m playing to win, we just talked about not throwing the match—”
“Pretty sure I’m screwed at this point. Help me out!”
Connor pressed his mouth into a line. “You know that kings can be demoted, right?”
Markus blinked. “I’ve heard of that. But you have to have the board—”
Connor spun the board so he could see.
“…Oh.”
“Of course you’d need to immediately promote a pawn to a king in your next turn or—”
Markus spun the board back, so he could see.
“Shit!” Connor whispered in amazement.
“Language!” Leo shouted across the café.
“We have to write this down!” Connor yelped, and dove for his bag so fast that he knocked his hot chocolate, the board, and the entire table over.
*
Leo eventually peeked out from behind his sunglasses, only once the hubbub died down. Shockingly, Connor and Markus were not thrown out for basically causing one corner of the café to explode in a shower of whipped cream and chess pieces. A shame really, because Leo loved seeing Markus get in trouble more than most things. But Cole told him there’d be an entire Costco sheet cake in it for him if they all managed to return from this ‘not-date’ with no major incidents to report, so in the end it was a win-win situation.
Markus and Connor were now cuddled up on one of the couches nearby, writing their nerdy notes in their notebook. Leo knew in spite of Markus’ crush that they weren’t supposed to even hold hands, and their knees were getting pretty close under that notebook. Their shoes were definitely touching. Did that count? He could always snap a picture and ask Hank. Let the sparks really fly, as it were. Any one of the other foster kids, anyone at their high school, really, could walk in and see this not-date turning into a real date, any one of which could turn it into a rumor that made it back to Hank’s ears and lead to a night of lecturing, several weeks of extra chores…
…But there was Costco cake to consider.
Choices, choices.
In the end, a slab of refined sugar and saturated fats won out.
“Alright, what’re you nerds doing?” Leo announced, right after he inserted himself between them on the couch with the skill and dexterity of Sumo playing fetch in the freshly-mopped kitchen. Markus and Connor went flying like bowling pins, then, to his surprise—
“We’re inventing a new chess defense!” Connor squeaked.
“We’re calling it the Ra9 Countergambit!” Markus enthused.
“Like, rook to a9?” Connor giggled.
“It’s a joke because a9 doesn’t exist on the board," Markus laughed.
Leo felt his eyes glaze over as they opened the notebook on his lap and started excitedly explaining the move, then chattering on as if he weren’t even there. Cole owed him an entire pizza party for enduring this.
Of course, Cole would never believe this was what really happened, not in a million years.