I was used to arriving early and snagging a good seat at these kinds of events, but I quickly learned that when you’re arm in arm with the principal, people stopped you every minute to say hello. By the time we got to the fifty-yard-line, the stands were a dense sea of blue and purple school spirit—Woodard was apparently a good team. As we looked for an opening, a waving arm caught my eye. It was Kendra, calling my name.

There they were, a few rows into the stands, front and center. Kendra, Bettina, Pia, Alice, and their families. As we headed up, Bettina and her husband stood and moved behind Kendra, making room for Adam and me on the end of the row.

“You don’t have to move,” I said once we reached them, concerned she’d be irritated.

“No worries,” Bettina said. I didn’t detect an edge to her voice.

Adam and I took our seats on the cold metal benches.

“So good to see you guys,” Kendra gushed. She was wearing a gray Woodard hoodie and blue gloves. She introduced us around again, mostly for Adam’s benefit, though I did get to meet Bettina’s husband, Joe, who kept passing Kendra’s husband, Paul, a small football-shaped container that I suspected was a flask. Pia was in front of us with her sister. Alice was on the other side of Kendra with her kids, who were waving mini Woodard flags while Alice attempted to keep them from smacking people.

“I love your earrings,” Kendra said to me.

I touched the silver hoops I’d found at the bottom of my jewelry box. They’d been my mother’s. Way bigger than I normally wore—even Adam had said something as we left the house. Just like the gold ones Kendra always had on.

“It’s like you’re twins,” Bettina said from below a dark blue knit cap, her hair carefully combed across her forehead, and I blushed at her words.

It was a chilly evening. The others had come prepared with foam stadium seats and blankets, and Kendra insisted we take one of her blankets. I slid my hand into Adam’s and squeezed, snuggling against him.

After the first quarter, Adam spotted someone he needed to talk to a bunch of rows over. Once he was gone, Kendra poked Pia. “Come up here for a minute,” she said. Pia shifted up beside me, creating a kind of triangle of the five of us. “I wanted to talk costumes. Any ideas for this year?”

“Yes!” Alice said, her kids now busying themselves with her phone. “Y’all, I was thinking famous moms? Wouldn’t that be so cute? I could be one of those 1950s mamas with the big skirts and apron.”

“It’s a tradition,” Kendra said, filling me in. “A new theme every year.”