chess

I’m Malorie. I am eight years old, and I play chess a lot with my cat Cricket, who is nine years old. My cat is older than me! Not by much though, since I am turning nine on the twenty third of December, which is in a week. Cricket has been nine years old for a while now. My mom taught me how to play chess some months ago, and I taught Cricket myself. Cricket is a smart cat, since he can open things like drawers, and I think that he has human powers, like speaking English or walking on two legs.

Let me tell you a time when Cricket almost beat me at chess. Since I taught him how to play it, I am obviously better than him and I always win every game. So anyways, I was playing, and I had captured all of his pieces except for one of his rooks and his king. I even got his queen! Meanwhile, he had captured all my pieces except for my king and my knight. Whenever we play chess, I always capture nearly all of his pieces and he couldn’t get mine, so I would win. Cricket kept placing his rooks in checkmate, so all I could do was move my king, which I didn’t like because one, I could have moved my bishop over and checkmated his king, but I couldn’t. Two, it’s always me who puts him in checkmate, not the other way around. I was struggling to decide whether I should move my king to the right or left, because if I moved it diagonally then his rooks could take my king. I glanced over to my bishop to see if I could finally use it. I scanned the board, and there it was. The perfect opportunity.

“CHECKMATE! YES! FINALLY!” I jumped up in triumph, picking up Cricket as I stretched my legs. “You thought you could beat me at chess, didn’t you?” I cooed, reaching my hand under his head to scratch his jaw. “Well, too bad, because I beat you again!”

The look on his face was a mix of human why are you doing this to me put me down please and yes I know do you know how many times you always brag to me whenever you win as he recoiled in my hands, squirming to be released. I set him down and we both started running around the room. Cricket was running from me for some reason, but I was running my victory lap. He was so close to beating me, but the tables turned quickly, keeping my streak unbroken.

I turned to find Cricket sitting on one of the sofas in the room, his tail violently sweeping the air. I walked up to him, and his mouth began to open, like he was going to meow or hiss at me. Instead, I heard something else.

“Why do you always brag so much?”

Shock filled me, freezing me in front of him. “What?”

“I said, why do you always brag so much? It’s not just you; all humans are self-centered.”

“Wait- how--? I stuttered. “How are- you can- you can talk?”

“Well, yeah, of course. What do you think? That I can only meow? Pfft. You have much more to learn, young child.”

“Are- are you possessed? Is there a demon? I’M SORRY I DIDN’T CLEAN MY ROOM CAN I HAVE MY CRICKET BACK PLEASE!”

“Child, I’m anything but possessed. I’m Cricket, your pet that you’ve had for a long time. I still even remember when your parents brought you home. I was just barely a young kitten back then. You screamed too much. Though nothing changed; you still do.” His voice was not too deep but eerily like a human’s, with a mix of cat.

“This is just... what?” I was still really surprised. Cricket could talk?

“Yes, I can talk.”

He could read minds? Even creepier.

“And yes, I can read minds.”

I stared at him, eyes unblinking.

“Just kidding. I knew you would say that.”

“So...”

“What?”

Cricket was really confusing me at this point. How, after nearly nine years, can my cat just suddenly start talking? All we were doing was playing chess. Maybe he’s a robot?

“Cricket... how can you- how can you talk?” I managed. “I don’t think cats are supposed to talk in a language humans can understand.”

He chuckled (can cats even chuckle?) and replied, “We’re not supposed to, but we can. It’s a special breed.”

I stared blankly.

“That you won’t understand.” he added. “Now, to the reason as to why I chose to begin talking now of all times. I seriously think that you rigged the game.”

“What game?” I was slowly adjusting to Cricket talking. I mean, it’s not every day when your cat just randomly starts talking. But my friends were going to be so surprised!

“The chess games. Plural. I think every time we play, you rig the games.”

“Rig?” This was a new word. “Like a rug? Or a rag?”

“No, Malorie. Rigging something means you dishonestly arranging something so the same, favourable outcome results every time. An example is every time you play chess. You always win. In your words, something is cursed so the person who cursed it can win.” he explained, sighing.

It felt really weird to hear a cat speak my name. “But I didn’t curse it! I promise! I’m just much better than you!”

Cricket shot me a disapproving glance, the cliché cat I highly doubt you meant that glare.

“Well, it’s true! I taught you chess so therefore I’m better than you!”

“I don’t get your logic, Malorie, but from what I know, that’s not right. I do think that you maybe did not rig the game, but at the same time you definitely seem like the person to do so.”

“So...?” This conversation was going nowhere.

“So, you rigged the game, and you’re such an egotistical girl who always talks about literally nothing interesting or anything that makes sense.”