Checkmate

30| What's a king to a queen

The round of applause suggests Angela has finished her introduction. Mr. Charter mumbles something into his microphone that I don't quite hear, but I catch Rose Matthews. Blake nudges me with his shoulder, forcing me into action.

As I pull the microphone toward me, it screeches with static. I wince, barely able to think over the rush of blood to my head. I stare at the crowd, willing myself to say something, anything, but the only thing playing in my head is: I let Adam have you.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat feels like sandpaper. Turning to Blake, I give him what must be a deer-in-headlights look.

He suddenly stands and looks at Mr. Charter. "We need a recess."

Mr. Charter frowns and covers his microphone with his hand. "We haven't even got the introductions out of the way. Our midpoint break is at–"

"Now," Blake says.

Instead of arguing or scolding Blake for his attitude, Mr. Charter nods and gets to his feet. "Our candidates are going to take a short moment to convene," he says to the crowd. "We'll resume momentarily."

The moment he says it, Blake grabs my arm and leads me backstage. We keep going until we're far away from the others, right at the back near the abandoned costumes for last year's school play. It's practically pitch black tucked away in the costumes, but I prefer it this way – at least Blake won't see me cry.

"That was–" Blake says, rubbing his jaw, "–I don't know what that was, but it was something." He looks over, sees my legs trembling, and grabs me to keep me steady. "Hey, are you all right?"

All I can do for the next five seconds is repeatedly shake my head. I can't go back out there, not after the disaster that was our introductions; Chase Ridgerton has won.

"It's over," I say. "I quit. I'm not going back out there."

Blake reaches out, tucking my hair back, and brushes a tear from my face with his thumb. "You're not a quitter."

He's wrong. The old me wasn't a quitter, but this new Rose, who was just subjected to what felt like torture, wants nothing more than to walk out of here. "I know you put a lot into helping me, and I'm grateful, but I can't do this anymore."

He grabs my shoulders until I'm forced to look at him. "You can, and you are."

I pull away from him, mostly because I hate that he has to see me like this: pathetic. "What chance have I got now?"

"The same chance you had before she started spouting all that bullshit."

My shoulders heave at his optimism. "Don't you get it? Everyone knows I paid you, Blake, not to mention how does he even know about that? Nobody except you and your friends knew."

Blake drops his hands. "You think I told him?"

For about a second, we stare at each other. I think maybe I'm looking for something on his face, a sign that he's not to be trusted, but all I can see are the moments he stepped outside of his comfort zone to help me.

"No," I say, shaking my head, "I'm just–" guilt takes over as I look away, "–I don't know what to do anymore, Blake. He's like the king of chess: always two steps ahead."

"What is it," he says, mouth lifted, "with you and these analogies?"

I fold my arms because he's not helping. "Forget it – I just want to go home." I turn like I'm ready to hotfoot it out of here, but Blake pulls me back.

"You walk out, and you're letting him win," he warns.

"So let him win," I say, throwing my hands up. "This was always his plan from the start." My voice breaks when I remember what Chase said. "Chase wanted to make sure she won, so he threw me under the bus to do it." I close my eyes, overcome with shame, despite doing nothing wrong. "He said he let Adam have me."