It was the tenth day of September, the day Ethan first became aware of the town's chess tournament. And from that very moment, he became acutely aware of every second that passed, of every minute that counted down to the day of the tournament.
He slept with the torn poster by his bedside, and every single time his eyes were opened to the dawn of a new day, his first glance was on the poster, precisely the large star that bore the written prize award.
He had not stepped foot into the diner since that evening. He had a way of getting the time he needed for the necessary study and practice. For the first time after Ethan met Scarlett, she was not the pressing thought in his mind. It was as though he had found something else worth being passionate about.
His mind was the very canvas of what his heart desired, painting the picture of the smile that would light up his face once his hands clenched the golden cup of first place. He imagined the euphoria and the blessedness of his newfound wealth, the path it would pave for his family in the hardened city. He had every reason to double his practice.
Soon, the D-Day had arrived. Two hours before the scheduled time of the tournament, Ethan Grey stood before his mirror as he brushed his hair, and wore his confidence. He was dressed in a white T-shirt, paired with dark blue jeans and a blue denim jacket. He threw on his headphones as he nodded his head, vibing to Bishop Briggs' "White Flag".
"Won't raise my white flag, no. This time I won't let go. I'd rather die, than give up the fight, give up the fight, give up the fight, give up the fight..." Ethan Grey sang along as he grabbed his backpack, and headed out of the house.
He boarded a bus, and journeyed to the Town Hall. His eyes scanned through the lines of the chess book he had obsessed over for days, flipping through the pages and reading until he arrived.
As soon as he alighted the bus, he exhaled, and scanned the entire landscape until his eyes fell on Michael. His once straightened face curved into a wide smile as he approached his friend.
"Hey, Mike,"
"Buddy!" Michael squealed in an excited tone. They did their fancy handshake, and it was only after that moment, that Michael realized just what his friend wore.
"Man, you look good," Michael said with wide eyes. He leaned backward, trailing his gaze from the headphones around Ethan's neck, to the white sneakers on his feet. He gushed for a moment, while Ethan savored in his friend's praise.
"Eyes on the prize?" Michael teased, pointing with his fingers.
"Eyes on the prize," Ethan responded, striking the same pose as both men laughed.
"God, there are so many people here," Michael said as he turned around. His hands were placed on his waist as he viewed the crowd.
"Hell, I can't even tell who's playing or not," Michael exclaimed again.
His observation was spot on. The town hall was already crowded, filled with men and women, and children who clung tightly to their mothers' hands and jogged their way excitingly to the center of the hall. There was no indication of who would compete in the tournament, and who had come to watch.
"The prize is worth the crowd," Ethan spoke from the side in a low tone. His goofy side had suddenly vanished, evident in the way his countenance changed, and the determination evident in his tone and words.
"But guess who's not bothered," Ethan said as he turned and stared at his friend with a smirk seated on his face. He wore his pride and confidence, taking solace in his skills as he made his way toward the center of the town hall.
"Gather around people," a slightly aged man mounted a high stage as he pitched his voice with the aid of a megaphone. Soon, all eyes in the hall were directed to him, and the people began heading to where he was.
"Alright people, let's get straight on to battle. All qualifiers move that way. You'll be assigned a board and a challenger. Let the battle begin. Let's go! Let's go!!" The man said as he pointed his fingers toward the far left, shouting with excitement in his tone.
The crowd dispersed immediately. At that moment, the supposed players were known. There were twenty in number, moving with haste toward the left as they grabbed chess boards, and sat on tables, arranging pieces.
The man with the megaphone blew the whistle, and the games began.
"Checkmate," Ethan Grey said to the black teenager before him immediately moving a piece across the board. This was just ten minutes after the whistle was blown, and the other raised his hands in the air with a furrowed brow as he tried to comprehend how suddenly he had lost.
"Checkmate," Ethan Grey said to the next challenger before him, just thirty minutes after defeating the black teenager. Ethan's moves were quick, technical, and frustrating to the middle–aged man who played against him.
"Fall your king, man," Ethan said to the man just as he was about to leave the table. The other pushed the white king down on the board with so much frustration inscribed on his face, before he walked away.
An hour and thirty minutes had passed, and Ethan Grey was already at the finals. He leaned back on the chair he was seated on, hands folded and placed on his chest. His eyes were closed as he exhaled sharply, waiting for his last challenger to take the seat opposite him.
"And it's time," the host of the game announced as soon as the chair was occupied. Ethan opened his eyes, and leaned forward on the table before he looked up to see who it was.
"What the hell?" Ethan jerked back as he muttered the words with furrowed eyebrows. His eyes were widened, and lips were left agape at the shock of who it was.
"Oh hey, it's you!" The lady at the other end responded with a wide smile on her face. It was Scarlett, his love interest and obsession, seated right before him— his final challenge to the big prize.