Everything I'm Not (GirlxGirl)

12. World Champion

Gray

This can't be real.

Jimmy's sitting in front of Alvarrez, wide-eyed as she says the word, "Checkmate."

For the first time in my life, I've seen my brother lose. And he's not taking it lightly.

"Who are you?" Jimmy asks, shaking his head.

Alvarrez sits straight, her eyes showing no sign of mischievousness it's intimidating, "Alexandra Isabelle Alvarrez, World Champion."

I feel a shiver run down my spine as she says the words. Both Jimmy and I were jaw-slacked at the revelation.

"But that was three years ago," she laughs awkwardly while rubbing the nape of her neck. "Now I'm just a normal player."

Jimmy was staring at her with his eyes wide, "You're that Isabelle?"

"Yup."

"And how are you a normal player? You just beat a FIDE master!" Jimmy exclaims. His tone made it hard to decipher if he was mad or excited. He clicks his tongue. "I knew you looked familiar."

I rack my brain trying to remember something my brother told me about a girl named Isabelle. All I can remember is that she snatched the world championship at age 14—the youngest female world champion.

Alvarrez raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were a FIDE master."

"I can't believe I just played against you. You were a legend," Jimmy says, his voice trying and failing to hide his excitement. "There's no one in the chess community who didn't know your name."

Alvarrez waves a hand airily, "That was a long time ago."

"Can you beat me in a five-one?" Jimmy inquires.

Alvarrez levels her gaze. "Sure," she answers without batting an eyelash.

"Let's give it a try," Jimmy agrees as he sets the timer to one minute in Alvarrez's side and five minutes in his.

No matter how I look at it, Alvarrez has put herself in a significant disadvantage. How the hell is she going to beat my brother in a minute?

Their hands flew all over the board and to the clock like lightning. Move-tap. Move-tap. Move-tap. There was barely time for Alvarrez to think while my brother is taking his time. It was hard for me to follow until I hear the word again, "Checkmate." Alvarrez won with 16 seconds remaining in her time and my brother with 25 seconds left. She's invincible.

I find myself watching Alvarrez the whole time. Not my brother, but her. She feels like a different person when she's playing. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, her green eyes were focused on the game and not anywhere else. She doesn't have her troublemaker smile or the overconfident smirk on her face. Nothing but pure concentration.

Every day, I sit beside her and the only time I ever see her like that is when she's solving a difficult math problem. Her eyebrows furrow and she runs a hand through her hair, squeezes it a little and takes a deep breath.

Something was stirring inside me and I don't want to register it as something more than admiration. I thought she was just an annoying, flirty, basketball player who thinks she can get anything she wants with a smirk and fancy words. But no, my opinion about her has changed ever so slightly. She's amazing.

It's a good thing that we did the documentary first before I let them play. Because if not, I doubt any of them are going to stand up and stop playing. They played again. And again. And again. And again. And many times more until my brother asks, "Is it true that you can play blindfolded?"