Titles of Local Monarchs

June 17, 1938

Friday

There was something that was keeping me awake. With an exasperated sigh, I turned over for the hundredth time. It seemed that the clock hanging in the corridor outside the door was right above my ear, ticking monotonously. I kicked the blanket with my foot, and in the next moment I heard it thud on the floor, feeling a pleasant chill go through my body. I closed my eyes. Now I would definitely fall asleep! I inhaled belligerently. Who was I kidding? I was wide awake. Doomed exhale.

I tossed and turned. A quiet knock on the door disturbed my thoughts. It's definitely none of the staff, since the evening rounds had been an hour and a half ago, and it wasn't the children, since every one of them had stayed away from me. Are you really so brave and not afraid at all of the darkness of the orphanage corridors?

I got off the bed. No matter how quietly I tried to tread the floor, the slapping of my bare feet seemed to be audible in Buckingham Palace. Why can't I fly? As I approached the door, I asked the trivial question of who it was.

"It's me, Tom," said a confident, familiar little girl's voice.

Predictable.

"What do you want, Irene?" There was a note of arrogance in my voice.

In fact, a single thought swirled in my head: I wondered if she stepped on that square of tile, and already the whole orphanage heard someone walking on the second floor after lights out.

"Nothing." one word, but it sounded so defiant, as if the Queen of England herself had just been offended.

"If nothing, then why did you come?" A faint shadow of a mocking smile touched my face.

She didn't step on it. I would have heard that rumble.

"Let me in."

"No. I'm trying to sleep here, actually!" I pretended to be annoyed so she wouldn't think of me as some pathetic yard dog wagging its tail with joy at the sight of a familiar person.

What would she do next?

"If you don't let me in, I'll scream, and then Mrs. Cole will come. I'll say it's your fault, and in the end we'll both be punished, of course, but the important thing is that you'll be punished, too."

My face finally and irrevocably blurred in a smile. Apparently washing her white socks had done Irene good, and now she knew that punishment and misbehavior were no fun. How... nice. A deep breath. I opened the door silently, greeting her with a mask of indifference. Fox's eyes immediately winked conspiratorially, and Irene stepped confidently into the room, making her way to the bed. She stopped at the blanket that lay lonely on the floor, and after a moment's hesitation, she picked it up and threw it onto the bed, covered with white sheets, and then sat down on the edge. There was something in her puny hands—a book or a square piece of wood.

"It's not your bed, so get off it."

Irene made some indecipherable sound, and the next moment she was at the table, lit by the echo of a summer night.

"I couldn't sleep," she finally spoke, "and I brought something, Tom."

Curiosity got the better of me. What will this girl do this time? I slowly approached the table, although I sincerely wanted to speed up my step. Irene triumphantly hoisted the wooden box up and, in exactly the same tone, proclaimed:

"Chess!"

I stared at her with an indifferent look that was actually a lie. My heart was picking up speed, and so were the emotions that stirred somewhere inside, like waves crashing against the shore.

"You stole the chessboard."

"Borrowed."

"At night, after lights out."

"But no one will need it for sure."

"And you brought it here."

"To your room, yes."

"So I could play with you."

"So that we could play together."

I fell silent. The pride and ardor that had filled the frail figure in front of me faded under my indifference and statement of facts. Irene gazed desperately into my eyes, trying to see at least a hint of agreement. The pause dragged on.

"It was a stupid idea." She put the chessboard down and whispered softly, "I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep, and it was stupid to think that you couldn't either."

Irene hesitantly ambled to the door, stretching her numb arm. No, no, no. Who knew I'd gone too far with my feigned indifference and sternness? I rushed after her. You can't just walk away! I want to play. In an impulse, I wrapped Irene's body in a tight embrace from the back, not allowing her to leave the poor room of the gray orphanage. I was unaccustomedly close, and suddenly the tart scent of her hair hit my nose, making me dizzy for a moment.

"You're going to lose," I breathed out into her crown.

I couldn't see Irene's face, but I felt her smile.

"Well..." She fumbled and freed herself from my tenacious embrace, and in a moment, she was back at the table, as if she'd never left. "Maybe, but first, help me set up the chess pieces."

The chess pieces were beautiful, carved out of wood, and so detailed! The game itself was unexpectedly fascinating because I had to think a lot and plan ahead, and it was insanely addictive and not boring at all. Before I knew it, it was completely dark in the room. This encouraged me to finally show something. I was undoubtedly better than everyone else in the orphanage, and I wished with all my being that she could see it and witness the little mystery and my superiority.

"Look!" I slowly raised my hand up and made a smooth gesture, and a small ball of fire erupted into the air, brightly illuminating the chessboard. Irene froze in admiration. The fire danced as a reflection in her eyes, tangled in her fluffy lashes.

"Will you teach me?" She whispered, spellbound, looking into my eyes with awe.

"I will!" A smug smile splayed across my face, but I immediately suppressed it and coldly voiced, "Check."

"Is that how you burned my notebook?" Irene frowned.

I nodded, peering into her pale face. The notebook didn't bother me at all, but the desire to understand where the new orphanage resident had come from wouldn't fade away. The annoyance of realizing that I couldn't meddle in someone else's head made me ask out loud; otherwise, of course, I would have unceremoniously used such a gift if I had it:

"How did you get here, Irene?"

"I don't know."

"But you came here."

"I only remember how much my legs hurt because I was running endlessly... At one point, I stopped and asked myself, 'Who am I running from?' And there was no answer to that question... I was exhausted that night—very thirsty and sleepy. I thought I would just collapse on the ground on the street and fall asleep there. Honestly, I didn't even care at one point... I got really dizzy, and I grabbed onto something... It was an iron gate. When I looked up, I read the name Wool's Orphanage... That's how I ended up here, Tom."

"Do you have parents?"

"I don't remember," Irene said, falling silent. Her eyes sparkled, either from the flicker of a light or the treacherous tears that were about to appear. There was no longer any emotion on that definitely cadaverous face.

"My mother died."

She said nothing back. Why did I say that? To make her feel better? But she didn't cry, which was probably a good thing because crying always irritated me for some reason. I never cried. And I still don't get it when other children cry.

"You understand snakes." I changed the subject.

"Yes, and so do you," Irene suddenly said, and I almost restrained myself from glaring angrily.

I wanted to hit her so hard with indignation that she would never know anything about me without my knowledge again. I could find out her secrets, and not vice versa! I stared at Irene, waiting for an explanation, but she didn't give me even a cursory glance back. She still peered at the pieces on the board, monotonously continuing her speech.

"When we were at the playground, Bella first met me... She and I went to her room to draw. Only I lost a beautiful stone that I found by the bench. I decided to go back for it. The next moment, a small white stone was placed on the surface of the table from the pocket of Irene's dress. "But there you were."

"Is that why you've been silently watching me since that day?"

Irene nodded. I could see she was watching, of course, but I had no idea at all that she had found out my secret the same day I had found out hers. She's a hellcat!

In the end, even my head ached because the game dragged on for two and a half hours due to conversations and silent glances, which I wasn't used to. Irene was focused. In the darkness, her pale face, illuminated by a small blazing fire, was very visible, and I allowed myself to brazenly examine her features, her every gesture, and indifferently perceive her attempts to do the same. Graphic black eyebrows furrowed, and thin fingers grabbed the last knight, making a move. I took a deep breath.

"Silly girl." I knocked over the queen, which made my opponent howl in frustration.

"It's just two in the morning, and I'm not thinking straight," she moaned.

"No, I just think better than you do." The bishop move.

A little girl with a pitiful face looked straight into my eyes, but alas, I could not be persuaded like that. Behind the mask of my indifference was a sincere smile of anticipation of victory. I warned you!

Irene looked at the board and then at me again. In the next moment, despondency slowly drained away from her face, like paint on a canvas, and her eyes became predatory.

"It's a draw," she spat out coldly.

The anticipation of victory crashed violently to the concrete floor, shattering its entire phantom existence. I looked frantically at all the remaining pieces on the board and made sure there were no more moves.

"Damn it…" I skillfully mimicked sadness, and my fingers immediately reached for the property of another. "Then I'll keep this. Compensation!" The stone from the table moved to the windowsill. Normally, of course, I would take or manage to steal things of value from the orphans. But this little girl obviously had nothing but a useless stone.

"It was amazing." The last syllable ate a sleepy yawn. "I'll go, Tom..." Irene said it tiredly, and I was a little taken aback by her indifference. She had given me her thing so easily. I was disappointed because I'd expected a different reaction, and frankly, I wanted one.

I nodded silently and put the chess pieces into the box.

"You're good, Irene. This is the first time I've ever met someone I've played with for so long," I suddenly admitted honestly.

"No one has ever wanted to play with you before," she quipped.

I looked at her with a stern look, and I would never admit that this was the first time I'd ever played.

She added, "But honestly, likewise, Tom." Irene's pale, thin fingers grasped the black chess piece. "Look... It's you. One day, you will be great, like this king. You're special and strong." Irene chirped sincerely (apparently the flame did impress her, as did the fact that I saved her from Chris and his friends).

I rarely cared, but it was like she was stabbing me with those words in the chest area. Probably because, for the first time, someone recognized that I was phenomenal and didn't think I was an abnormal person who should be locked up in an insane asylum.

"And also, you will definitely be called by some special title!" Irene smiled. "You will be more powerful than some king."

She threw a piece into the box, which hit the pawns. There was a black queen in my hand.

"And the king will have a good match!" I put it in her small palms, the abrasions on which were already scarred. Eye to eye. Irene was silent. The silence wasn't oppressive; it was filled with the truest understanding and deepest sense of the moment.

"I have to go, Tom," Irene said, throwing the queen after the king.

Her bare feet strode hurriedly toward the exit, and she disappeared into the darkness of the gloomy orphanage corridors. As soon as the door slammed shut, I thought I was looking forward to the morning when we would be together again. There was one "but" that was afflicting my conscience: one day someone would come and take her away, and then I would be alone again in this fucking hole, teeming with cruel, rude, disgusting people, and this fragile idea, born in the silent night but filled with greatness, would be shattered.