Page 98 of Every Move You Make

“Seattle. My old team used to play in the rain all the time,” she says with fondness. “Some of my favorite memories took place in the rain.”

“Like what?” he asks, and my heart gives a little pitter-patter at him asking more questions.

“Like,” she drawls, looking off into her mind. “When I was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, I remember my dad carrying me on his shouldersas he ran through the rain to get to our minivan that was parked really far away.” She pauses a moment, still thinking of the memory. “I have no idea where we were coming from, but I remember us laughing and holding onto him tight. I never want to forget that.”

“That’s cute,” Serwaa smiles.

“What about you, Serwaa?” he asks. “What’s a memory you never want to forget?”

My bestie looks off in her mind for a minute before humming through a smile. “I never want to forget the way my nana’s house smelled back in Ghana. Like a medley of jollof rice, fufu, and light soup. To this day, whenever I miss her, I’ll make it myself just to feel like I’m there again.”

My mouth waters at the thought and I groan. “I love your cooking.” I could swim in that tomatoey chili pepper broth.

“Is she not around anymore?” he asks her.

“No. She died about five years ago. I still have family there, but no one’s home smells the same.”

“Sounds like a team potluck is in order,” he says.

“What about you, Coach?” I ask. “What’s a memory you never want to forget?”

Isaiah’s dark blue eyes find mine for a brief moment before turning to the window beside him where raindrops cling. “I remember this one time when my mom was still alive, we were all packed into our bathroom because there was a tornado warning in effect. I was maybe eight. Yeah, eight, because she died soon after that. Anyway, all of us kids were in our pajamas and I remember being confused about the siren going off, so my mom sang to us. My dad joined in.”

“Do you remember what song they sang?” I ask.

He thinks for a minute, his brow furrowing, but then he chuckles. “You know, I never realized how on-the-nose it was until now, but they were singing “My Favorite Things” fromThe Sound of Music.”

“Your mom died when you were a kid?” Khaos asks. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Our family was… pretty broken for a while.”

I’m a little stunned he’s opening up like this. Sure, he showed me this side of him back in the day, but I quickly found out he doesn’t do that for many people—almost no one, in fact. Even Angie has a hard time knowing what’s going on in his brain sometimes. What did Dell do to him? Because the man before me—looking like he has no better place to be than here with all of us around a crackling fireplace and the white noise of summer rain—is showing himself.

His real self.

“She died in a car accident shortly after that. She was driving my baby sister Ivy back from a doctor’s appointment when she was hit. Only Ivy survived.”

There’s a collective inhale and Serwaa says, “Jesus.”

“Dad was… in a bad place for a long time. My older sister Angie basically raised us. Her and our friends’ moms who lived close by.”

“Hold up,” Skirt says. “Do you mean multiple friends’ moms from multiple homes, or someone who has two moms? Moms plural?”

“Lesbians?” Khaos gasps.

Isaiah nods. “Christina and Ana, yes.”

Khaos clutches her heart and leans against Serwaa. “He was practically raised by lesbians!”

Isaiah chuckles. “They fed us, watched us. I know Spanish because of them.”

“You know Spanish?” I ask. “I didn’t know that.”

“Sí, hablo español. Más que simplemente pedir comida también.”

Okay, suddenly my undercarriage tightens and Ineedto hear him speak Spanish quietly in my ear. I don’t care what he says. He could tell me he has a hernia and needs to seekmedical attention, but as long as it’s murmured into the shell of my ear, I’ll dissolve.

“You okay over there, Birdie?” Serwaa asks, pulling me back to the conversation happening outside of my brain.

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