CALVIN

eight: the chess board

"Did you know the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is bigger than the size of France?" Patrick asked.

"No, I didn't," I said.

"Well, surprise."

"We let corporate America ruin the world and now the only thing we can do is rely on corporate America to fix the world."

"Let's hope you and I die before we can witness corporate America's attempt to fix the world."

"We'll probably die because of corporate America's attempt to fix the world."

"May as well make the best of it while we're still alive," said Patrick.

I sat up in bed clutching my teddy. "What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm going to the train," he said.

I almost felt disgusted. "Why? Who hurt you?" He didn't answer. "What are you even going to do in the train? Sit and stare out the window at darkness and tree shadows?"

"I'm starting a chess club," he said.

"Oh. Oh God. That's worst. That's so much worst."

Patrick shrugged. "It's my CAS project. Three people said they'd come."

"Three people?" I asked. "Just three?"

He shrugged again. "It's three more than I thought would come."

"And here I was thinking you were dragging yourself out of the Loser Hole by making out with Louisa." I shook my head.

"Hey, Louisa is one of those three people -"

"Yeah, because you're both fucking nerds."

"- and you can't chastise me for being in the 'Loser Hole' when your only friend is me."

I scoffed. "You - you think - Ha! He thinks my only friend is Patrick!"

"Who are you talking to?" He asked, deadpan.

"Schneider is my friend," I informed him. "And Denis and Jesus. Ehsan. And I met this guy named Roman, the other day."

"It doesn't matter how you feel subjectively," said Patrick. "Your isolation was understandable in grade ten when you were new here and didn't speak German. But now you know people, and you still don't do anything." He exhaled. "I'm not telling you to start hanging out with people and get out of the room every once in a while. I understand that you're an introvert and this is your safe space. But at some point you're going to have to start thinking of isolation as a hole. If you keep on isolating you keep digging that hole deeper until finally the sides are so steep that you can't climb out anymore. And I don't want you to get to that point, Elias."

...

The train was a car of an actual train from the mid 20th century, separated from the rest and plopped in the middle of a field on the school campus. A couple years ago it was redecorated to serve as a student bar and lounge, and started serving beer, champagne, and chocolate every Tuesday and Thursday. Nobody ever went to the train, besides the people who decided to exploit it for their CAS projects. Such as Patrick.

"Wilkommen! Wilkommen!" He greeted, standing in the aisle. Someone from twelfth grade was sitting on a phone behind the tiny bar behind Patrick. Little ambient lamps sat on the small tables in the booths. String lights ran across the ceiling. Louisa and Roman had entered the train.

"Why'd you let Roman into chess club?" I asked Patrick quietly.

"Because he showed enthusiasm and potential," he said, preoccupied with setting up a chess board.