“Checkmate.” With an impassive face, I moved my rook to zero in on the white king. Inwardly, I was grinning from ear to ear.
Galen glowered at me. In response I simply shrugged and stood up. “I’ve got to help mom with dinner now.”
“I won’t let you win next time!” His near desperation amused me. I knew he would never defeat me because he could not.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
Walking down the stairs, I saw my mother’s back, muscles taut against the thin fabric of her shirt as she tried to reach into the overhead cupboard for the cheese grater, while grounding a slab of beef with the other hand. “Been bullying your brother again?”
“It’s not my fault he’s suicidally competitive. Or arrogant.”
She nodded sympathetically, her head bobbing up and down with hair slightly lighter in shade than Galen’s dark hazel colour. “Slave of the male ego.”
Picking up a wooden spoon, I quietly tossed the salad and recalled how when we were younger, Galen would sulk for days on end and refuse to speak to me after losing. Well what was I supposed to do? If I declined, he would accuse me of denying him the opportunity to defeat me. If I played, I would win and he would sulk anyway.
Might as well savour the victories then.
I remembered how he would smile indulgently at me as he pointed out some grave error I committed when I was ten. Of course, when I turned twelve, I mastered the intricacies of chess and my teacher would commence a series of sulking session upon losing to me. At thirteen years old, it was the overturning of boards and flinging of pieces at the wall. Very mature. Now at sixteen, it would happen like this:
Firstly, upon winning, I’d be glared at.
Secondly, he would issue some threat to defeat me the next round.
Thirdly, after waving away his futile threats, I’d wisely leave him to sulk. According to mom, he would brood at the wall and pout.
Lastly, my brother would make a clay figure and afterward return to his usual self. His room was filled with them, little figurines with clear attention to detail, a testimony to his skill.
And mine. Heh.
There was one particular clay model, a headless woman with a curvy body draped in cloth, which captured my attention. My first instinct was to assume my brother was being the stereotypical perverted teenage boy, but the mini sculpture didn’t fit his usual repertoire of cartoon characters and animals. It was elegant, like a Renaissance art piece that revered the shapeliness of fleshy femininity. He would shrug wordlessly whenever I asked him why he created that figure though. Mom commented on its resemblance to the headless Aphrodite statue she saw during her honeymoon in Rome with Galen’s father, a rare mention of him.
It was unspoken agreement that we did not speak of Galen’s father. He left the family before I was adopted, and I was told by Galen that he himself had barely any recollection of his father, except for a fleeting memory. There were no pictures of him around the house, none of his belongings left behind. I don’t know what the circumstances behind his departure were, but whenever mom spoke of him, there was an inexplicable and unmistakable fondness in her voice. I couldn’t understand how she could harbour such affection for a man that abandoned the family, but I knew that I had no right to judge the man I knew so little of.
“What are you in such deep thought about?” Coupled with the crunching sound of onions being cut, my mother’s voice dragged me from my thoughts.
“Ah, nothing. Just trying to recall how many times I’ve beaten Galen at chess. An uphill task, you see.”
“Don’t let Galen hear you, or I’ll have to put up with his sulking face when we wash up afterwards.”
I snorted. “Well, if he’d just stop self-inflicting those wounds…”
Lapsing into silence, we busied ourselves with dinner preparation until she asked me the question. The one she’d been asking me for about three years now. “So when are you going to tell Galen?”
Feigning ignorance, I replied, “Tell him what?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Sophia. We both know you’re not dumb.”
“He’ll know when he knows! Frankly, I think it’s so obvious and he’s blind for not noticing.”
“But why keep it a secret? He’s your brother, after all, not some random stranger.”
I shrugged, unable to articulate why I felt compelled to keep it hidden. “I suppose if Galen finds out, he’ll probably stop playing strategic games with me anymore because he’ll know it’s futile. He’s quite an impressive opponent for one not gifted with my brilliance.”
“You’re not fooling me with that feeble excuse.”
As with the previous conversations of this nature, I decided not to respond and mom stopped pressing me for answers.
“Hey, you ladies need any help with the food?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Galen’s head peeking out from the top of the stairs and hoped he had emerged from his foul mood.
“Oh no you don’t, mister.” Mom warned sternly, “The only help you’re going to give is to eat and wash the dishes. I’m not going to let you set fire to my kitchen again!”
“Aww c’mon, mom! That was four years ago! It was an accident, you know that!”
“And more accidents could happen.”
“I’m older, I’m more skilled now! I could show you!”
I heard my mother softly exhale. “Go back and finish your clay figure, Galen. I’m not letting my kitchen be the test run for your self-declared skills.”
“I’m done already!”
“Well go make another!”
“I’m no longer inspired!”
“Make a bouquet of clay roses for me then!”
I suppressed an eye-roll and proceeded to interrupt. “So what did you sculpt this time?”
“A turtle.”
“I like turtles.”
“I know you do, but I’m not giving it to you.”
“Mean.”
“Obnoxious.”
“Rude.”
“Oh, enough already, you two!” came my mother’s exasperated interjection. “Galen, go find something else to do while your sister and I make dinner!”
“Oh fine,” he huffed, “Sophia,” I turned to face him, “You. Me. Checkers after dinner. Prepare to be annihilated.”
“Sure, sure. If you say so, Galen.”
Turning back to concentrate on laying down the sheets of pasta, I waited to hear the closing of his door before I let out a groan.
“You’ll miss this when he leaves next week, Sophia.”
“I doubt so, mom. I’ve beaten him in enough games to last me for a lifetime.”
“We’ll see, dear.”
“I’ll miss him though. Why does he need to study overseas in Greece?”
“It was his father’s wish that Galen attend Olympia Academy, as Greek blood does run through his veins.”
“Where in Greece is this school anyway? We could visit him during spring break.”
“Actually, I don’t know the exact location. Somewhere near Crete, I believe.”
I turned to stare at my mother. “You’re sending your son, my brother, to some foreign land to study in some foreign school and you don’t know where it is?!”
“It’s supposed to be a reputable school. I trust his father, Sophia. I simply filled in and mailed the application form he had left with me before he… departed.”
I still felt uneasy, reminded of how my past search on the internet for this school turned up no valid results, but let the issue slide. My mother wasn’t a careless person, she wouldn’t send Galen far away to some bogus school even if his father insisted.
-----
Galen
The sun shining above us cast a shadow on his face as he leaned down to pick me up. I remember how his body felt uncomfortably hot for me, with the heat of summer bearing down upon us, so I pulled away from him.
Mostly, I remember those steel grey eyes that gazed at me, how they were the exact colour as my own.
Then again, that was to be expected, since he passed it down to me.
Spoiler! :
Its light, humorous and flows pretty well. Nothing much seems to happen but then again, every novel has those filler chapters. Maybe you would like to add some more movement or descriptions in-between the conversation just to make it more easy on the eye and makes the overall chapter an easier and better read. 
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