Cascade

3. Chess

I wiped my sweaty palms across my shirt for probably the fiftieth time. I hoped I didn’t smell too much like alcohol and I didn’t have time to find out; I knew I had to talk to that girl now or else I would never see her again. I mean, its fate if you see the same beautiful girl twice in one day and the chances of that happening is -273 degrees Celsius – absolute zero.

I took a deep breath in the now oddly warm night and made my way across the empty park. I could still hear Ludwick being a child, but I chose to ignore him. “Hey,” I said when I reached her. My intention was to sound friendly but my voice came out rough and demanding.

She looked up from her solemn position and glanced at my face. I could see the recognition in her face, but she didn’t attempt to return my smile “Hi,” she mumbled bleakly, “did you follow me?”

“No.”

“It’s okay if you did, I deserve to be murdered for running off like that.”

“What?” …what?

“Nothing,” she sighed and resumed her previous position.

“I’m Chess,” I offered. I should have asked if she was alright, but I just wanted her to know my name and not think of me as a murderer. I could see the slight frown that developed on her face but to be honest, I expected nothing less. “Is that short for something?” she asked.

“Well, yeah.”

“What?”

“You’ll laugh, but you should know my mom had a great love for nuts.”

She raised her head, “No.”

“Oh yes.”

She started to laugh, “Your name is Chesnutt?” I was grateful for the darkness so that she couldn’t see my face tinge, but I figured she saw it anyway because she broke out into a giggle fit. “That’s kinda cute, actually.”

I smirked at this and sat down next to her, “You look like you had a rough night.”

She scoffed and glanced up at the sky, “Actually, it was a stupid night. Now that I think about it, I overreacted.”

“What happened to your shoes?”

“I overreacted,” she repeated.

“Were you at a prom or something?”

“No, I offered myself up to witches who needed a sacrifice for beauty.”

“Silly girl, how can you overreact? Sacrifices are completely normal,” I let a slight smile settle on my face.

“I just didn’t expect the knife to be so small! I thought it would be over quick, but no, they wanted to make little holes in me.”

“Are you high?” I don’t know why I asked her, but it seemed appropriate that a girl who spoke about supernatural sacrifices was slightly intoxicated as it just simply was not normal.

“No,” she said loudly, “I’m sad,” and that’s when I decided that yes, this girl was high because shouting at night was also just not acceptable.

“So, did your boyfriend leave you or…” I didn’t know if I was invading her privacy or if she even wanted to talk about whatever traumatised her, but I felt compelled to know more.

At my question, however, she scowled. “I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Who was that guy at the shop then?”

Her expression became sad again, “Oh,” she said softly, “he’s Trent. He’s my friend. He’s gay.”

I nodded, “Interesting.”