April Shadows (22 page)

"Let's buy a new television set on the way home," Celia suggested, "I know you're going to want to watch the international basketball competition."
Brenda agreed, and we returned to the department store. A salesman volunteered to carry the set out to the car for us. but Brenda let him know in clear and certain terms that we were quite capable of it ourselves. Celia was obviously disappointed and not eager to struggle with it. It wasn't as heavy as it was bulky. and I was sure that the three of us looked very silly trying to get it into the rear seat of the car. We finally had to take it out of the carton. and I was assigned to sit next to it and hold on to it as we drove home.
Brenda and I carried it into the house, and Brenda hooked it up. I watched some television with the two of them before going to my hovel, as I now called it. It really wasn't much more than an afterthought, a shack. The little electric heater didn't do all that much even for so small an area. I worked on my school assignments, which to me seemed behind the work
I
had already accomplished back in Hickory, and then I went to sleep.
Brenda had made it clear before I left the main house that she wasn't going to be waking me up every morning.
"You're now responsible for yourself," she told me. "You have your car. Get yourself up and at breakfast in time. I don't want to hear about your being late for school," she warned.
Taking on the role of legal guardian made her assume a wholly different demeanor. It amused me how whenever she sounded stern. Celia followed with a laugh or "She'll be fine. Don't frighten her." Whether I liked it or not. I was gaining an ally against my own sister. It irked Brenda, and she chastised Celia about it. but Celia laughed it off and clearly humored her. If I could see it. Brenda surely could. I thought, but Brenda was forgiving when it came to Celia, far more forgiving than she was toward me.
The school day began the way it had ended the day before for me. I was simply not interesting enough or pretty enough to interest any of the boys or the girls. The little curiosity about me that had begun in the afternoon the day before seemed to dissipate like smoke. and I soon felt invisible. It wasn't an uncommon feeling for me. Perhaps because it was comfortable and safe, I accepted it.
At lunch, three of the girls from my English class did invite me to sit with them. They began by firing questions at me like prosecutors. I knew they were searching to discover if there was anything startling about me that they could wave about like the front page of a newspaper among their other friends, but my answers were too bland, too dull. I didn't have much to say about the social life, the boys and girls from Hickory, or the teachers. One girl, Nikki Flynn, had a relative in Hickory and had been there. She described it as Molina." Even the mall was
disappointing to her. Their conversation quickly returned to themselves, and in minutes. I was more like a fly on the wall than someone with them at their table.
For me, the most exciting event of the day was attending the beginners' chess club. About ten minutes after the final bell. I wandered down to a room inside the school library, where I found eight other students and the school's business teacher, a tall, lanky man. Mr. Kaptor. He had stringy, light brown hair and beady eyes under a pair of wire-rim, thick-lensed glasses, but he gave me the best welcome of anyone since I had arrived. The other students were pairing off at the desks. but I noticed a tall, very dark boy with ebony eyes and long ebony hair walking about, studying the boards as the others began to consider their moves. He had a very sharp jaw line and a very tight, strong mouth. When I saw him closer. I saw his long eyelashes and admired his high cheekbones. He wasn't bulky or what Brenda would call buff. but he looked muscular. trim.
"Welcome to the club," Mr. Kaptor said, shaking my hand. "Do you know anything at all about chess?"
"No. sir." I said.
"That's fine: that's fine. It's why we call it beginners' chess club, so don't be discouraged. Take your time, and you'll be surprised at how quickly you can get into it. My student assistant here will start you off. Peter," he called, and the dark-haired, handsome boy turned to us, seeing me for the first time. He was so intense about observing the others that he hadn't noticed my entrance.
He walked over to us.
"This is Peter Smoke," Mr. Kaptor said. "Peter, meet a new prospect. April Taylor. She just entered the school yesterday and chose our club for her extracurricular activity."
Peter stared at me without expression. Then he finally nodded.
"Peter has this cynicism about new entrants." Mr. Kaptor explained. "We get a few even' month who attend one or two sessions and then never return. He hates wasting his time, don't you. Peter?"
"That's right." he said dryly. "What do you know about the game?"
"I know there is a king and queen and knights, but that's about it," I said honestly. "I've just played checkers up until now."
He didn't laugh. I wondered if he was capable of smiling. What kind of a name was Peter Smoke?
"Let's get started." he said. He nodded at a chair. "Sit." I looked at Mr. Kaptor,
"I'll circulate and return shortly, but Peter's terrific at the basics. He's very modest, but he's regional champion," Mr. Kaptor said.
Peter went about setting up a board. and I sat across from him. This was just chess, but my heart was pounding as if I were entering a marathon.
"Okay," he said, looking at the pieces and not at me. "The object of the game is to checkmate your opponent's king. Checkmate occurs when a king is attacked and the king cannot escape capture on the next move. He's trapped. Here's the setup. The rooks begin the game in the corners. The knights, which some people call horses," he said smirking. "are next to the rooks here. The bishops start next to the knights, and then come the king and the queen. Notice that the white queen begins on a white square and the black queen on a black square," he said, lifting each queen to be sure I knew what a queen was. "To begin the game, white moves first and then black, taking turns until checkmate occurs,"
He finally looked up at me. I couldn't help staring at him. "Do you understand so far?"
"Yes." I said. 'But you don't jump pieces like you do in checkers, right?"
"Hardly," he said. "Checkers is a joke compared to chess. Forget you ever played it."
"I didn't play it that much."
"Good," he said. He looked back at the board and then quickly returned his eyes to me. "There wasn't a chess club in your previous school?"
"No. but I was always interested in learning how to play. My father knew how but didn't play much and didn't have the patience to teach me. My sister hates board games. She's an athlete. We lived in Hickory. Maybe you know where it is I realized I was rattling off like a car that had lost its brakes and immediately bit down on my lower lip to shut my spewing mouth.
"Of course. I know where that is." He returned his attention to the board. and I thought that would be it, but then he looked up again. "My people were the first citizens of this state. I know every place in it." "Your people?"
"I'm Cherokee," he said. "I didn't grow up here. I grew up in Oklahoma. I returned to live with my aunt after my father died. My mother died when I was born."
"Oh.'"
He looked at the board again.
"My parents are both dead. too." I blurted, since he didn't seem to know anything about me. I guessed he didn't have his ear to the gossip phone in the school.
He looked at me again, and for the first time, his eyes softened. He didn't speak. He lifted the king.
"The king can move one square in any direction and cap
^-
hire an opponent's piece if it's on one of those squares, assuming, of course, that the opponent is not defending this piece. The king can never move to a square that the opponent controls. Doing so will move the king into check. Suicide," he added.
He moved a few pieces.
"Here, see this. In this case, the rook is one square away and undefended. If I put these two rooks here like this, they can
defend each other. and the king can only move one way. Am I going too fast for you?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. He sat back.
"All right, let's just go over the moves each piece can make, and then we'll go back to what I'm saying. The rook can move any number of squares in straight line, horizontally or vertically, but the rook may not jump a piece of either color. Got that?"
I nodded.
"The bishop can move any number of squares diagonally, but, like the rook, it may not jump a piece. Like the rook, it can move forward or backward, but in only one direction at a time. Okay?"
"yes."
"The queen combines the power of the rook and the bishop. It can move horizontally, vertically, or in the diagonal."
"Wow," I said.
He glanced at me but continued.
"It's like the king in that it can move in any direction, but unlike
the king, it can move far in one direction so long as there are no pieces in its path."
He took a deep breath.
"The Knight's move is special. It hops directly from its old square to its new square. The Knight can jump over other pieces between its old and new squares. Think of the Knight's move as an "L." It moves two squares horizontally or vertically and then makes a right-angle turn for one more square. The Knight always lands on a square opposite in color from its old square."
"The last is the pawn, which is the only piece that moves differently from how it captures. The pawn, like a warrior in war, marches forward one square at a time. It can never retreat. However, pawns that have not yet moved have the option of beginning their forward journey with a double move two squares forward. They can't jump other pieces. The pawn captures diagonally only one square ahead. Think of it fighting with a knife rather than a sword."
"Is this whole game thought of as a fight?"
"Of course." he said. "Military tacticians love it. It's strategy, defense, aggression, entrapment, retreats, the whole gambit."
"Checkers is friendlier," I said.
He stared at me so hard I thought he was about to get up and desert me, but to my surprise, he actually smiled.
"You're not the competitive type, is that it?"
"I guess not. My sister has the monopoly on that in our family. She's a star basketball player for Thompson University. She's on the all-star team for the region and will be playing a week from
tomorrow." I said.
"Very nice," he said, obviously not very impressed. He cleared the board of all the pieces. "Okay.
I
want you to set up the board again, and as you do, repeat as much of what I told you as you can,"
I felt a wave of panic. Truthfully, I had sat politely listening, but I was sure I wouldn't be able to repeat half of what he told me. Nevertheless. I began, and to my surprise, he wasn't upset by my errors. In fact. I realized his quiet way was not because of annoyance but an inner peacefulness I had never seen in someone as young. There was a maturity about him I couldn't help but envy.
"Can I ask what happened to your father?"
"You just did," he said.
I bit down on my lower lip.
"He was an alcoholic." Peter said.
"Unfortunately, that firewater thing is a stereotype idea about Native Americans that proves more the rule than the exception. Life on reservations. Indian land, is terrible. Poverty level doesn't begin to describe it."
"You're. a full-blooded Cherokee?"
"Yes," he said. "My aunt isn't. The Cherokees were driven out of Tennessee in 1838 in a historical event we call the Trail of Tears. Some mixed-blooded remained, and some returned, and my aunt is one of them."
He leaned over the board.
"Don't worry," he said. "I won't scalp you."
I guess my expression was pretty funny to him. His smile widened.
"How is it going?" Mr. Kaptor asked.
"It's a start," he told him.
"What's that Chinese proverb. Peter?"
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a step," he replied, looking at me. "She's almost finished with the first step." He looked at his watch. "Let's go over it again," he said, and returned to the chess pieces.
When the club hour ended, my head was spinning, but I had to admit I enjoyed it. Peter went to talk to Mr. Kaptor. and I started out. I walked slowly, thinking about the day, my classes, the place I was now in. I thought about Uncle Palaver, too, and reminded myself to remind Brenda to get in touch with him. I was almost to my car when
I
heard. "Are you coming back on Thursday?"
I turned to see Peter Smoke.
"Yes, I am," I said. "I'm going to get my own chess set, too, and practice whatever I learn at home."
"It's not too bloody a game, too violent?"
"Stop making fun of me." I said, and he actually started to laugh. He nodded at my automobile. "You have your own car?"
"Yes. It was my mother's car."
"What happened to her?" he asked. "You asked about my father," he reminded me quickly.
I thought a moment. There was something about him that commanded honesty.
"Like the king shouldn't do, she moved into a square that the opponent controlled."
He stared, the meaning registering. "I said my father was an alcoholic. It's a form of suicide, too," he remarked.
I nodded. For a moment, we were just standing there. "Can I give you a ride home?"
He raised his eyebrows. "It'll be out of your way," he said. "How do you know?
I
didn't tell you where I live."
"It's a distance. It will take too long."
"I have time. Your turn." I said.
"Huh?"
"Looks like checkmate," I said, and this time he really laughed.
He got into the car, and we started away, with him giving me directions.
"You're going to be able to find your way back and home, right?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, not worrying about it. "Can I ask you about your name?"'
"Peter or Smoke?"
"I think Smoke," I said. laughing.
"It's my ancestral name. My family's name was given to my father's meat-great-neat-grandfather who was in the Civil War. They gave Indians names then, and they gave him the name Jordan. I wouldn't accept it from the time I was twelve. but I wasn't able to change it until after my father died. I discovered my grandfather's name was Tsu-S-di, which translated means 'Smoke' so I took that name."
"Why was his name Smoke?"
"It comes from the Smokey Mountains. My people were there in the year 1000, and there are many legends about the mountains, the smoke. It's mystical, powerful." he said.
I could feel his eyes on me, his concern that I might. as I supposed many young people our age did, laugh at him. Instead. I turned to him and said. "I wish I had a name that had such power."