The Fault in Our Infinities

Chapter 12: Concealed Conflicts

The train journey to my parents' house is like none I've ever taken before. Augustus acts the perfect gentleman: carrying my oxygen tank up some steps for me, opening doors, carrying my bag when I can't fully grasp it. It's sweet but I can't help but feel he's polite, but not that polite.

Then we sit down on the train, and I understand what is happening.

"Hazel Grace," He says, "Have you ever played chess?"

I shake my head. "I know how to play." I rest my head in my hand. "So you were acting the gentleman so you didn't feel so awful when you played dirty at chess?"

"And you think we don't know each other." He lays out a portable chess board, produced from his rucksack.

"Dork." I say, picking up one of the pieces. The board is magnetic, so each figure sticks. "Is this the part where you reveal you're a secret chess genius and I have no chance?"

"I wouldn't say 'chess genius'," He says, laying out the individual pieces in their correct positions. "But it is true that you have no chance."

I laugh. "Augustus Waters, you are the most pretentious bastard."

He looks at me, his eyes wide with innocence. "What?" He says, "Chess is a game that takes great practice to master."

I grin. I know it's not. Dad used to play, before I got sick. Then he stopped. I never asked why. I do know that it is not a game of practice, but it is a game of logic, of strategy.

"Black or white?"

I know whites go first. "White."

Augustus doesn't reveal anything as he rotates the board. I make my first move and Augustus smirks.

Ten minutes in and Augustus has taken four of my pawns, my rook and a knight. I, however, have only managed to take two of his pawns and a bishop. I'm sucking majorly.

He seems to get cockier and cockier with each minute that passes. It isn't long before he starts making remarks like: "Oh, I wouldn't have done that if I were you." And: "You do realise that you could have taken my pawn there, right?"

Honestly, it's infuriating. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me frustrated. Instead, I maintain a poker face, examining the board for any way I can take him.

About forty-five minutes in, there's a glimmer of hope. My bishop is in line with his queen. I smirk, sliding my bishop across the board with exaggerated slowness. Gus sees his mistake just as I knock down his queen, grimacing.

"Damn," He curses, and he's adopted this accent that is sort of dorky and cute at the same time. "Should have seen that coming. No matter! Hazel Grace, you will not breach my walls again!"

I hold onto his queen tightly, as though it is my lucky charm.

Ten minutes before scheduled arrival time, I shout with victory, alarming several nearby passengers, and slide my queen across the board, trapping the king between my bishop and rook.

"Checkmate, Augustus Waters."

He flicks over his king, leaning back to regard me shrewdly. He doesn't act offended or angry at my win. In fact, he takes his loss very gracefully.

"Hazel Grace, I think you are lying to me." He says eventually, after I have packed all the chess pieces away. "You have played that game before."

I shake my head again. "Nope. Dad used to play it a lot before I got sick. I used to spend hours watching him manoeuvre his board in tactical formations. Him and Mum used to play it together." A wave of nostalgia washes over me and I suddenly feel the pressure of time – or lack of it – more than ever. "I never played." I say softly.