Page 100 of Every Move You Make

With youis support when you need it most.

Wrapping my arms around my best friend with beers still in hand, she returns the hug. “I love you,” I whisper. “I’m always with you, too.”

Serwaa and I make it back to the group in the living room and pass out the beers. Khaos is talking about the memory she never wants to forget: making brownies with her cousin and aunt and the way her uncle would sneak his finger in the batter.

“What about you, Robyn?” My coach asks before taking a sip of his beer.

I never want to forget the way he tastes. I never want to forget the moment our tables turned and he admitted he’s been watching me—wanting me—all these years. But now’s not the time so say those things aloud, huh?

Probably not.

“I want to remember laying on the living room floor surrounded by candy with my family after trick-or-treating. My mom has always harped on me for what I eat, ever since I could remember. But for some reason, Halloween was always an exception. She’d sit there with me and we’d eat as much as we wanted. I’d give her all the disgusting candies like Almond Joy or plain Hersey’s bars. I would sort and take inventory. Dad would try to steal a Twix or Reese’s cup, which was a crime in my book—punishable by clawing and wrestling for it back.” I release a deep sigh. “But on Halloween, my mom was fun, and I never want to forget those nights.”

The look on all the girls’ faces tells me they know all too well what it’s like to have a mom like that. Everyone takes a sip of their beer.

“What about you, Toni?” I ask. “What memory do you want to hold onto forever?”

Toni sits up from their position cuddled against Mo. “My friend and I used to play this drinking game when we were younger, where we’d sing the lyrics to songs we mostly knew. If you screwed up the lyrics, you had to take a drink. So the more you drank, the harder it was to sing the words correctly, and thus the circle of drunkenness continued,”they laugh. “God, we were dumb. But I don’t think I’ve ever laughed harder.”

All at once, an idea pops up and begs me to release it. “You know,” I drawl, pressing the power button to the TV and grabbing my phone, “Coach here has some experience singing.”

Every muscle in his face drops. “Robyn,” he warns.

“That’s right,” I smile, tapping away until I find what I’m looking for. I mirror my phone screen to the TV and queue up the video. “Our coach once had a budding musical career in his family band, Agony Nectar.”

“Wait!” Khaos gasps. She stands for a better look. “This is awesome.”

“Guys,” Isaiah pleads. “We weren’t that good. Look, there’s only seven hundred views in ten years! I wouldn’t say—”

“We are so watching this,” Toni beams. “Press play!”

The video is grainy, the way digital videos used to be, but young Isaiah is unmistakable. It’s a cover of “In One Ear” by Cage the Elephant and these guys are dressed the part. Isaiah’s hair is almost shoulder-length, and he’s wearing a flannel long sleeve and tight jeans. Dane’s in even tighter ones and sporting a plain black T-shirt. All I can see from Jonah is a yellow band tee of some kind, blonde hair flying every which way as he hammers away. And Joaquín’s in an oversized zip-up hoodie with bright blue Converse.

“Where is this?” Serwaa asks.

“My basement,” he sighs.

“And who’s with you?”

“That’s my brother Jonah on the drums. I’m on bass, my other brother Dane is singing, and our friend Joaquín is on electric guitar.”

“I love this song!” Mo shouts over the volume.

Skirt shakes her head. “I’ve never heard it.”

He groans, “How old are you?”

“Twenty two.”

“Oh god,” he groans harder.

“Let’s go, brother!” I cheer in my best Hulk Hogan voice. To encourage him more, I launch into the rock song I’ve heard a hundred times—specifically this version. When everyone joins in, I turn the volume up all the way. We’re screaming the lyrics and dancing when I extend my hand to him. With a reluctant smile, he takes it in his and stands up, belting the tune and pretending to play his bass. He’s lashing forward along with me as I throw up my devil’s horns on my left hand.

I wish someone was recording this moment right now. A bunch of rugby players rocking out in a vacation home that looks like it was created by the set designer for a Nancy Meyers movie.

Agony Nectar can fuck, I’ll give them that. They’re not great, but damn, do they rock. Isaiah is just as into it now as he looks then. I wonder when the last time he picked up his bass was. When was the last time he played with his brothers? When was the last time he let it all go like that?

Watching all us ancients rock out to a totally foreign song, Skirt peels with laughter on the couch. She takes over the remote and runs away from Isaiah when he tries to take it away from her. He gives up and lets her play song after song from his basement punk band.

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