The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery

transparent ones in style at the time. Of course, the girls wore full slips under them, but still, to a seventeen-year-old boy…
    “Natalie would like to learn how to play nim,” Sylvia said. “Do you mind teaching her, too?”
    “Sure…why not?”
    “I didn’t think you’d mind,” Sylvia said, in a tone that told me I wasn’t hiding my reaction to Natalie very well.
    “I hear that Joe challenged Barney to a game yesterday,” Natalie said. “That was sweet of him, but he shouldn’t have.”
    “Joe is Natalie’s boyfriend,” Sylvia said, in answer to my puzzled expression.
    Of course he was. He was the quarterback. She was wearing his ring on a chain around her neck. Whatever hopes I had conjured up were already dashed. But that wasn’t an explanation of what Natalie meant. I noticed that she was wearing braces, just as I did. We had something in common.
    “If I had been there, I would have stopped him,” Natalie said. “But I had to go for that college interview.”
    I still didn’t understand, but no more information was forthcoming. I had better do what I had come for. I put on my professorial hat and said, “Would you like the mathematical explanation of nim?”
    “We just want to learn how to win,” Natalie said.
    So be it. I wouldn’t get to expound on binary numbers. Regrouping, I said, “Okay, a quick review of the rules of nim. The layout is rows of seven, five, three and one. The pieces can be milk cartons, checkers, coins, matches, toothpicks, eyeballs, whatever. On your turn, you can remove one or more pieces from a single row. If you are forced to remove the last piece, you lose.”
    “So far we’re hep,” Sylvia said with a smile. “Although I haven’t seen Barney play with eyeballs.”
    “That’s only done in smoke-filled back rooms,” I said. “There are four rules for winning at nim.” A small blackboard was attached to one wall. Picking up a piece of chalk, I wrote, “1. Always let your opponent start.”
    “Why should it matter who starts?” Natalie asked.
    I hadn’t expected questioning of such a simple rule. “Because if you start, you will lose. Like Joe did yesterday.”
    “Nat, let him talk,” Sylvia said, with a laugh. “If his rules don’t work, we’ll find out soon enough.”
    “Have you ever seen Barney start a game?” I asked.
    They shook their heads.
    “Bingo.” I wrote, “2. IF your opponent starts by removing one piece from a row, THEN remove one piece from any other row.”
    I looked at them both. No objections were forthcoming. They were both writing. Good students, taking notes. Maybe I should be a teacher. Ha. I chalked rule three on the board: “3. IF #2 occurs AND your opponent continues by taking one piece from either of the remaining two rows, THEN remove one piece from the last untouched row.”
    The rules were getting more complicated. The last rule was multi-part and contained a list of all the positions that a player could leave and win. I put it on the board and they dutifully copied all the combinations. Did they understand? The proof, of course, was in the execution. We needed to play some practice games. I was sure Sylvia would catch on quickly. I wasn’t so sure about Natalie. And I gathered that she was the important one.
    I pulled whatever coins I had out of my pocket. When I explained what I was doing, Sylvia and Natalie took coins from small purses. Together we came up with sixteen coins. “Keep track of what you put into the pot,” I said. That money represented a number of lunches. I arranged the coins on the shelf in front of the makeup mirror. “Who wants to play?” I asked.
    “Nat, you play,” Sylvia said, confirming my suspicions.
    “Gary, I am going to let you start,” Natalie said, giving me her most brilliant smile.
    I doubted that any boy could withstand that approach. At least she had Rule One down pat. And I enjoyed sitting beside her where I could look at her, smell her clean scent, with our arms touching at times. However, she played slowly, reading from her notes and asking questions.
    After watching her for a while, Sylvia said, “When you play Barney, you can’t use notes, and Gary isn’t going to be there to prompt you.”
    “I’ll get it,” Natalie said, irritated. “I just need a little practice.”
    “We’d better come back here tomorrow morning,” Sylvia said, looking at her watch. “Gary, are you okay with that?”
    “I really appreciate you helping me,” Natalie