Page 6 of Forgotten Sacrifice

“Luna, we’re not playing rapid round; take your time.” Our chess coach stops at our table.

“Sure,” I say, even though I’ve already visualized how I’m going to destroy my opponent like two minutes ago.

Aspen considers her next move. “See, like your teammate, Aspen, is doing,” our coach comments, and ass-kisser Aspensmirks at me. She takes nearly three minutes before moving her piece.

We continue our game, with Aspen making a strategic mistake; she thinks she’s sitting pretty with her discovered check.

“Checkmate.” I capture Aspen’s king, and it’s like someone pulled the rug out from under her.

“Luna, could I speak to you for a moment in my office?” My coach says.

“Sure,” I say, and now it’s my turn to smirk at Aspen as I follow the old man down the hall and to his office.

He closes the door and takes a seat behind his desk, gesturing to the empty chair, and I sit. “Luna, when you transferred here, I immediately knew you were going places.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

“But lately, your focus has been slipping. You’re distracted, and it’s showing in your play. You’re not putting in one-hundred percent effort. I don’t like this shift in attitude, or you missing our last team competition.”

I go to defend myself, but he holds up his hand. “I don’t know much about your background, but take it from a poor kid like me who made it out: you can escape the trappings of poverty only to become ensnared by the trappings of wealth.”

“I don’t follow.” I cross my arms, hating that he can sniff the poverty wafting from me like a bad case of BO.

My coach tents his fingers together. “Your friends are not on the same path as you.”

“No, because my friends don’t play chess.” I bristle.

“Luna, you’re a great chess player, but I want you to become one of the greats. There’s a difference.”

“And that’s the goal,” I assure him. “I have a tournament coming up?—”

“That’s my other concern: you’re getting ahead of yourself. Too focused on tournaments instead of building a solidfoundation,” he tells me. “What are your plans for college? I’ve had several scouts ask about you?—”

“I’m not going to college.” And for once, my “guardian” Vince and I are on the same page. I don’t need a degree as a backup plan. There is no backup plan; chess istheplan.

My coach shakes his head disapprovingly. “I’d like to speak to your mother and father about your future.”

“Good luck finding either of them,” I snipe.

“Luna, I’m sorry?—”

“It’s fine. I need to get to the dining hall. May I be excused?”

He nods sympathetically, and I hurry out of his office, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. Making it to the nearest bathroom, I lock the stall and close the toilet lid, taking a seat on it as I bring my knees to my chest so no one will see me cry. Hell, I’m not even surewhyI’m crying.

Two girls enter the bathroom, huddled in front of the mirrors. “Luna thinks she’s hot shit.”

“I know, right? Like she comes out of nowhere and outranks me? My dad was livid; he has our investigator looking into her.” I recognize Aspen’s voice.

“Oooh. What did he learn?”

“I don’t know yet, but you can tell Luna is trash. She must be here on some kind of pity scholarship. Do you remember at our first house dinner when she attacked her salad with a fish fork? So uncouth.”

Laughter proceeds footsteps, and I hear the bathroom door opening and closing. Waiting a moment longer, I fling the stall door open.

Returning to the dorm, my suite mate’s not here, and I get ready for dinner solo. My phone buzzes, and I grab it.

$358,294.23