CHAPTER ZERO: MICHAEL FAUANTE

3 YEARS AGO....

"WELCOME TO THE ANNUAL DISTRICT MEET!" Speakers blared out

I walked inside the venue alongside my coach, I fixed my school lace and proceeded on wards

"You ready?" My chess coach said as we were walking towards the venue

I looked up towards him;

"I'm always ready."

"This is the finals, dont mess this up! Remember! Openings, simplifying and--"

"Tactics, yeah yeah yeah I get it."

"Remember! Stay calm, and prioritize your tactics!" He yelled out as I walked on ahead

I walked inside and it was bright, a blistering white light lit up the entire venue and infront of me stood the registrar

"Name?" The woman asked me

"Uhh... Michael Fauente.. of SIPS (South International Private School)!"

"Oh!" She said, writing something on a paper. followed by "This way!"

I had prepared myself all my life for this journey. My father is a chess legend in my city, Rivaled by my best friend Mateo Rivera's father, up to this point I had trained myself in the life of chess.

"I'm powerful!" I thought

Every game I've had played out in my head in this moment

I followed her towards my seat and I sat on my respective color. The tournament used a Swiss-system tournament. My opponent hadn't arrived yet

I was certain, I was unbeatable, after all... I was the best. My father was the best.

I had 5 minutes more to prepare until the games started. I took a deep breath and looked down towards my feet, I was jittery and sweaty. The sheer weight of the game came down upon me like a mountain

A lonesome kid walked up towards my table, he looked at the board and after looked at the giant screen at the venue, "Excuse me, Are you Michael Fauante?"

I nodded, and he sat down. He held his hand towards me respectfully and we both exchanged handshakes

But something is wrong.

An overseer yelled out; "Players! You may start!"

The clock started and I played the black pieces, he played e4 so I countered with the Sicilian...


--------------------------------------------

MEANWHILE...

Mateo Rivera...

I ran inside the venue, and went to the registrar and asked "Hey is Michael here?"

"Michael... Fauente?"

"Yeah!" I replied, enthusiasticall 

"He's over by that table, but guests aren't allowed near the players, you'll have to look outside the barrier"

"Okay Okay!" I said, walking onward towards Michael

Me and Michael have been best friends for years, and he's the best chess player I've ever known! He was known as the smartest and most calculated player at our school ever since elementary,

Visions of the past played out in my head;

"You're so good Michael!"

"Thanks Mateo!"

"Mateo! Watch out for that rook he's looking to flank you!"

"I saw that!"
 
I knew this would be a piece of cake for him! When we were little, he won best elementary chess player

"Coach! You're here!"

'Coach Jorge', nodded his head and continued to watch the game.

There was a brief moment of silence, I analyzed Michael's board carefully, I turned to our Coach and asked; "Coach, what do you think about his positioning so far."

"He's..." A moment of hesitation "Losing."

I took a step back;

"What? What do you mean losing-- Michael's the best player we know!"

"Look, if the opponent takes his c6 pawn... Michael forced into a perpetual checkmate, and I'm pretty sure Michael sees that."

His jaw was clenched. His eyes burned with frustration. His right hand trembled as it hovered over the pieces.

He was panicking.

After a long pause, he moved.

Click.

Three moves later—

Checkmate.

“No way…” I whispered.

The look of defeat was evident on Michael's face, A melancholic emptiness had surrounded him, he glanced at the board and back at his opponent. After shaking his opponents hand quickly walked away

"Michael!" I yelled out

Michael passed by Me

"You should have trained yourself up to that point Michael." our coach said

He added "Do you have any problems with that loss?"

With tears pouring down his eyes he replied "No, I don't!" continuing forward towards the car

"Get in the car, both of you." our coach said, unlocking his car

We obeyed, inside, Michael stared outside the window, still crying. I tried to tap his shoulder but he pushed me away

". . ." 

There was thick tension in the room, the weight of the defeat still smothered us

"How do you think your father will react Michael?" our coach asked

He kept silent, still staring outside the window

"Your father is a very respected man in the chess community, he's one of the legends in our city, I don't think he'll be very pleased with you losing this tournament."

"Even if he isn't", We both looked at him, "I've already made up my mind."

"I'm quitting this shitty sport!"

After those words left his mouth, I froze. It felt as if everything up to that point was a lie, the grueling training sessions, the years of practice-- all for nothing

"What? Michael, we were gonna be chess champions together! The best in the world!"

A moment paused before he continued;

"Screw that chess champion shit. Screw that 'together' shit. As it stands now, I wont get anywhere being in this shitty place where I don't get to evolve as a player, I've hit a dead end. I fucking quit."