I’m lying on my bed with my trophy on my chest. My heart beats so slowly and heavily that I can feel it vibrating through the mattress springs. I’m tired but I can’t sleep because the day keeps zapping through my head – the journey to Birmingham, my nerves, the games, me wanting to concede, then everyone surrounding me, patting me on the back, shaking my hand. I’ve tried counting sheep, I’ve tried wrapping my head in my pillow, but the day just goes on, like a DVD stuck on repeat. And really, I don’t want it to stop.
I jump as my phone buzzes on the table. It’s so late there’s only one person it can be. Jake said he’s going to stay up all night until our pictures are on the internet.
I look at the screen.
Still not there. What’s taking him so long? All he had to do was write a few words and upload a picture.
I know, I reply. Must be busy. But I’m going to bed now.
You can’t.
I want to get up early to see Granddad in the morning.
Okay. Leave your phone on Alert. I’ll text you if it happens.
Okay.
I put my phone down and go to close my curtains. Across the square the street light is flickering outside Granddad’s house. I can’t wait to go over there in the morning. Me winning might make him feel better, and he definitely will when I show him the trophy. He’s going to feel as happy as I do.
I pull the curtains and get into bed. I hold the trophy tight to me. It really is mine, but I can’t stop thinking that any minute now Mum will come in and shake me awake and I’ll realize that this day hasn’t happened and I’m late for school.
I close my eyes. In my mind I can see the hall and I can feel the light shining down on me. And I can see the chessboard and my opponent’s king lying across two squares. Then all around me I can hear the sound of a clock tick-tick-ticking. I screw my eyes tight and hug the trophy so hard it digs into my skin. The clock keeps tick-tick-ticking, and I wish it would tick-tick-tick faster so the morning would come.