“Nobody cares about pawns.”

Miles said it with the absolute certainty only a seven-year-old could have about something completely wrong.

Arthur slowly reached across the concrete chess table and picked up the white pawn he had just captured.

“That’s exactly why you keep losing them, Soldier.”

Miles’s face twisted as though he had tasted something sour.

“Stop calling me Soldier.”

Arthur rolled the pawn between his fingers.

“Why?”

“Because soldiers are basically pawns.”

“And?”

“They’re the weakest pieces.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, as though Miles had just made a brilliant argument in court.

“Only if they never leave where they started.”

Miles rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Artie.”

“It will.”

“You’re old.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You turn everything into a lesson.”

Arthur smiled and placed the captured pawn beside the board.