nt, a fifteen-year-old boy from Oakland.  me, wrinkling his nose.

    As I began to play, t of te pieces and ing on t  my ears. It ws only I could hear.

    quot;Blo; it murmured. quot;trail.quot; I saraps to avoid. tled. quot;S; said tronger. quot;t to distract ; t came for;Blo;

    quot;C; I said, as ter. to little puffs, my oh.

    My mot trop to a neic c t tao society o me. As s clot;Next time ;

    quot;Ma, its not ; I said. quot;Sometimes you need to lose pieces to get a;

    quot;Better to lose less, see if you really need.quot;

    At t tournament, I  it riump grin.

    quot;Lost eigime. Last time ell you? Better off lose less!quot; I  I couldnt say anything.

    I attended more tournaments, eacairs from our flat displayed my groion of trops  t-covered cakes t er I ant regional tournament, t cake ing and red script saying, quot;Congratulations, averly Jong, Coer t, a floo sponsor me in national tournaments. ts on and Vincent o do my chores.

    quot; to play and ; complained Vincent.

    quot;Is ne; said my mot;Meimei play, squeeze all  for ;

    By my nintional cill some 429 points aer status, but I outed as t American o boot. to of me in Life magazine next to a quote in er.quot; quot;Your move, Bobby,quot; said tion.

    took ture I ly plaited braids clipped ic barrettes trimmed ones. I  eced across from me  ty. I remember t y broo  my every move. . One of s uffed  we kerc flourish.

    In my crisp pink-and-c te points of my