Maya's jaw tightened, but her hands remained steady as Ted moved his knight to c6. She could see he was playing carelessly, not taking her seriously at all. Good. She pushed her pawn to d4, her movements becoming more confident.
"Look at her trying so hard," Charles Hoffman observed, adjusting his glasses to peer at the board. "It's almost endearing, like watching a child play dress-up in their parents' clothes."
"Except, of course, this child has no parents, does she, Charles?" Eleanor Whitmore admonished softly, though Maya noticed she didn't defend her, merely objected to the directness of the insult.
Ted Banks captured Maya's pawn with his e5 pawn, grinning broadly. "There goes your center control, little girl. This is what happens when you play with the grown-ups. We don't give participation trophies here."
Maya recaptured with her knight, maintaining her composure even as the insults continued to rain down. She had learned long ago that showing hurt only encouraged tormentors; the street had taught her that lesson well.
"I must say," Richard Whitmore commented, circling the table slowly, "this is rather entertaining in a grotesque sort of way. Like watching a car accident in slow motion: you can see the disaster coming, but you can't look away."
"The smell is what I can't get past," Victoria stage-whispered to Margaret, though loud enough for everyone to hear. "When was the last time this child had a proper bath? We'll need to sanitize that chair after she leaves."
"And the chess pieces," Margaret added. "God knows what diseases she might be carrying. Street children are notorious vectors for all sorts of infections."
Ted Banks moved his bishop to b4, pinning Maya's knight. "Check," he announced triumphantly, though Maya could see it was a premature attack. "What will you do now, hmm? Run away like you probably run from the police, or will you stand and face the consequences of your arrogance?"
Maya calmly moved her bishop to d2, blocking the check and developing her piece simultaneously. The move was sophisticated enough that a few of the observers exchanged glances, though they quickly returned to their mockery.
"She must have seen that move somewhere," Charles rationalized. "These street children, they're very good at mimicry. It's how they survive—copying what they see others do, like monkeys."
"Monkeys might be cleaner," someone quipped, earning another round of laughter.
Ted Banks, his face reddening slightly at Maya's defensive move, castled queenside. "You know," he said, leaning forward, "I'm doing you a favor here, girl. This lesson in humility might be the most valuable thing you ever learn. The world doesn't owe you anything just because you're poor and pathetic."
"Ted's absolutely right," Richard agreed, swirling his whiskey. "Too many of these children grow up thinking society should provide for them. A little harsh reality is good for building character."