He helps me get back up and looks at our handiwork. I remember that he complimented it and that we were both beaming at the praise, but I can't really remember any specifics. What I do remember, however, is that he mentioned that my dad had told him that I was a bit of a chess nut. See, it turns out he was an old hand at chess and he wanted to see how I could do against him. Being as cocky as I was, I hastily accepted. I ended up black and the game begun.
Now, I've always been a rather old-fashioned person, even in my youth. I like things not of my age, but rather of ages before mine. My favorite chess opening, for instance, is an old old old move known as the Philidor Defense. My dad taught it to me knowing I have a penchant for antiquated things. See, it's such an old move that the people around my age don't know a thing about it, so I can use it to great effect. You first move the pawn in front of your king two squares, then you move the pawn in front of your queen one square. This opens up your queen and your bishops effectively quickly, giving you a wide variety of plays from there. So, of course, I use my first two moves to do that. I don't think I'll ever forget his words, they creeped me right out:
"Ah, the Philidor Defense. Classic."
My heart sank. Oh crap, he knows what I'm up to. Of course, his next moves set himself up perfectly to counter that. A while later he had me done. A crushing success on his part. He told me that I wasn't half bad, which I guess is pretty neat, but I was pretty quiet after having my crap absolutely beaten. He then pointed out the time, patted me on the head, and sent me on my way, telling me I was welcome any time.
And so begins my long friendship with the neighbors, as well as a long chess rivalry with her dad, who I have not yet beaten over these sixteen years.
Well, I need to go grab some food real quick. Think I'll recall how she broke my arm once I get back.