2024 School Magazine

Black and White and Sweet and Bitter

Astrid Selwa (10G)

Her eyes narrowed. Her opponent returned the look. How long had it been? Two years . . . and she had never won against the man in front of her. Chocolates and chess, as it was every Friday evening. Her father allocated two Freddos for each of them while her small fingers arranged the board. “Let’s raise the stakes,” he said, sliding a chocolate forward. “I bet you one Freddo that I’ll win.” She could almost taste the chocolate frogs melting on her tongue, but then her mind shifted to the future, of how much sweeter the chocolate would taste if it was won in battle. She didn’t consider the bitterness of loss. Her attention snapped back as the dull taste of saliva fuelled her growing resolve. She was better than him now, she could feel it. Her fists tightened and then loosened at her sides, as if she could grasp her impending victory. This was it. This was the day she would beat her father. She would win. “I’ll wager both,” she dared, the wrappers crinkling as she pushed the chocolates across the table. Her father threw his second Freddo to the pile with an approving nod. “It’s a bet,” he agreed, sitting up in his chair and putting out a hand. She matched his firm grip as they shook once, and the game began. Little sound disturbed their concentration but the monotonous ticking of the clock on the adjacent wall, and her pointer finger as it tapped on the table. Tick. His horse was attacking an undefended pawn. She moved her bishop in the line of his king, pinning it. Tick. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the board and the chocolates at its side. With each heavy thud in her chest, her breath came quicker, the checkered pattern started spinning before her. She blinked hard, fighting her growing vertigo. Tick. Focus. She had to focus. A rook for a horse, her white bishop for his. Sacrifice and trade, the pieces piling up at either side of the board. Tick. It was getting louder. Everything was getting louder. She swallowed a burning lump in her throat and moved her horse into position. Would he see it coming? Her leg anxiously tapped under the table in time with her fingers. This was it. With two more moves, the board would be hers. Then… the Freddos. Her eyes fixed on those frogs, lest she look too closely at the board and give away her plan. Tick. “Don’t drift off now, it’s your move,” her dad reminded her. She looked back to the chess board and—wait, what was his move? She scanned the board but couldn’t see the difference. Her eyes flickered up to the smug expression on his face, then down again, along with a furrowed brow. Unable to spot the change, she continued with her plan. Her fingers wrapped around her horse and dragged it across the board. “Check.” Her voice was too loud in her ears. He didn’t seem nearly as paranoid as he ought to, with his queen and king caught in a fork. Panic rippled through her body, wave after wave. Though on the outside, she was still as ice—a glacial landscape, cold and unyielding. Was this a trap? Did her father have some way to take her horse?

122 | BRISBANE GIRLS GRAMMAR SCHOOL 2024