‘Your turn,’ he said, and grasped the corners of the table as if to brace himself for something.
Ali studied the pieces for a moment.
‘Is that it?’ he asked. ‘You’ve left yourself wide open.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Ivan, who smiled to himself when Ali reached for the pawn he expected him to play. As soon as he grasped it, the boy’s face contorted in shock and pain.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Ivan, as his opponent set the piece back down smartly and shook his hand. A smattering of blood spots hit Ivan’s shirt, but he didn’t mind one bit. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Splinter, I think!’ Ali examined his finger, where a bead of blood was growing. ‘Man, that’s really painful.’
‘Unlucky,’ said Ivan, who gestured at the table. ‘Feel free to try again.
For the next few minutes, poor Ali Kaar suffered one assault to his fingers after another as he attempted to make each move. Even when he switched strategies, every time he touched a chess piece it left him gasping. Eventually, with tears streaking his cheeks and his hand shrouded in a bloodstained handkerchief, Ali conceded defeat in order to seek medical help from the school nurse.
‘You win,’ he sniffed, clutching his hand to his chest. ‘I never want to play you again!’
‘They all say that,’ said Ivan under his breath, and quietly reached for the glove so that he could return the pieces to the box.
It was a satisfying victory. Ivan would’ve preferred to win without suffering and bloodshed, but sometimes it was necessary to avoid the incomparable pain of defeat. In some ways, he liked to think that substituting the chess pieces for a set with a sprinkling of iron filings glued to them was just another strategy of the game. At the very least, he had thought ahead and used his brain to win.
Ivan left school that afternoon with his bag slung over one shoulder and his hands in his trouser pockets. He headed for home on foot. The school bus only ran after school had finished, but he didn’t mind missing it. The afternoon sesssion had made it all worthwhile. It also meant less time fighting with his sister or getting a hard time from his mum about making a mess around the house.
Ivan followed the usual route, heading from school towards the park. It took him across the high street, where he went on to follow the long, curving road towards the pedestrian crossing. It was here, about a minute into the walk, that he became aware of the vehicle. It was a battered white van, not an unusual sight, but it had been parked outside the school when he left the gates. A few minutes later, he had spotted it in a disabled parking bay in front of the charity shop. This time, the van was sitting at a junction on the other side of the street. Ivan walked on, keeping his head down but listening keenly.
Sure enough, a short time after he had passed the junction he heard it pull off. The boy glanced over his shoulder. The van was just behind him, moving at a walking pace which increased when the boy picked up his stride. Ivan had heard about moments like this. There were some sick people out there. Back in primary school, a policeman had even come into assembly to talk about stranger danger. It never seemed like such a big deal now that he was older, but suddenly this felt very real and Ivan felt entirely alone. He glanced over his shoulder one more time. Sure enough, there it was. With the sun overhead, reflecting on the van’s windscreen, it was impossible to see who was behind the wheel. That’s when Ivan’s imagination went into overdrive, and a sense of fear caused his skin to prickle.
‘Be cool,’ he whispered to himself, and reached for his phone. Quickly he found his father’s number. It went straight to answer machine, which wasn’t unusual, but just then he wished his dad didn’t have so many meetings during the day. Ringing off without leaving a message, Ivan turned to check he hadn’t been mistaken, and then steered closer to the shop fronts as if that might offer him some kind of protection.
The pizzas, when they arrived, looked just as Jack Greenway had imagined. Each one featured a lot of tomato, mushroom, pepper and onions, but with no sign of any cheese.
‘Yum,’ he made himself say for the benefit of the girl sharing his window table. ‘You made a great choice.’
Amanda Dias studied her topping for a moment, declining an invitation from the waiter for a twist of black pepper.
‘Food should be pure and simple,’ she told Jack, collecting her knife and fork. ‘I would sooner gnaw off my own fingers than eat dairy.’
Jack sat across from her with his hands on his knees and just stared.
‘Awesome,’ he said eventually. ‘Just amazing.’
He had contacted Amanda the day after her talk. Friending her on Facebook was out of the question. That would only invite Sasha’s suspicions. Instead, he had headed back to the university on his lunch break, where he found her handing out leaflets outside the Union bar. She recognised him straight away, and even seemed pleased when he approached. That’s when Jack had switched on every charm button in his body and invited her to lunch. He wanted to learn more about veganism, he had told her. From someone who could provide him with guidance, wisdom and inspiration.
The lunch, he had said to finish, would of course be his treat.
Now that Amanda was here, in his company, Jack found himself a little lost for words. It wasn’t something that had happened to him before. In fact, he prided himself on being able to talk easily to girls and win them over by showing how much he cared for animals. Sure, Amanda was attractive, but in terms of conversation he felt outclassed. She just seemed so confident. So sure of her outlook on life. Sasha was lovely – beautiful, kind and funny – but she had needed him to lead her into his vegetarian world. Amanda was different. Her views went way beyond anything Jack held, and now he wanted to go there. Having been in the audience when she spoke, he found himself seduced by her hardline veganism.
Unlike Sasha, she also looked like she might go all the way if he cooked for her one night.
‘I have a question,’ said Amanda, chewing on her second slice of pizza. ‘It’s hypothetical, of course, but I’m interested.’
‘Go ahead,’ said Jack, who had yet to start his meal. ‘Ask me anything.’
‘Let’s say we have two dishes on this table. Both of them covered with a lid, but you have to choose one.’
‘Sounds good,’ he said. ‘What’s on the menu?’
Amanda pretended to lift an invisible lid from her plate.
‘Roast leg of lamb,’ she told him, and then repeated the gesture. ‘Or braised human heart.’
The way she presented this, with a wicked smile and her eyes penetrating his, left Jack with no air in his lungs.
‘Oh,’ he croaked finally, and breathed in once again. ‘For real?’
Amanda Dias nodded, not releasing him from her gaze for a moment.
‘For me, it would come down to ethics,’ she said. ‘Which animal, the lamb or the human, has caused more misery, murder and suffering in this world?’
‘The human,’ said Jack, who was beginning to feel the need for some fresh air. ‘Naturally.’