“Remember that time you said you wanted to play chess?” Eric approached me from across the park with an oblong box tucked firmly under his arm. His grin was wide; it took up most of his pock-marked face. He sat down across me at the picnic table where I was eating and gave my tray a glance before picking it up and setting it aside.

“I remember making an off-handed comment about it three weeks ago-Eric, put down my food.”

“Nuh-uh, nothing doing. I looked up the rules to this game about a hour ago; I’m pretty sure I’ve got it.” He removed the box from its arm and sweater cell to place it gingerly on the black metal grating of the table. On the cover of the box was a cheap photograph of a chess set taking a bad angle. “We’re doing this.”

“Fine,” I concede. “One quick game. But let’s hurry. I have about forty-five minutes left.”

“Will do, buddy.”

Moments later, as the board is set up, I ask, “What house rules are we using?”

“Whichever,” he laughs, getting ready by rubbing his hands. “Get ready to king me.”