“Why doesn’t Louise hit any?” grandfather asked as the teams warmed up. Most of the team was running up to the net, jumping, and spiking the ball, while Louise tossed the balls in the air.

“I think she’s a setter,” I said, resorting to English and searching for volleyball warm-up roles.

“Is that an important role?”

“It seems really important.”

“Nice, Louise!” grandfather bellowed. The few people in front of us turned around, startled, and the spiker Louise had tossed to completely missed the ball.

“Maybe save that for between points,” I suggested.

“Told you he could be loud,” grandmother said proudly.

“Louise loves it!” grandfather insisted. And it did seem like Louise’s smile was wider than ever.

Once the game started, I fielded questions from either side of me. Often, I answered the same one, just facing a different direction. It was clear Louise was indeed the setter. It was also clear the Harvard team had a much larger fan base than Louise’s team did here in Cambridge.

“Don’t worry,” grandfather said. He removed his jacket and cap. His white hair was wild underneath. “I am experienced at cheering against Harvard.”

“Quickly, open the banner!” grandmother urged, rapidly tapping my shoulder again.

I passed one end of the banner to grandfather and the other to grandmother. Each side was held up by long sticks grandfather used to keep his plants upright.

“Yes! Yes!” grandfather bellowed when Louise set the ball to her teammate on the far right who spiked it into the opponent’s court. Grandmother cheered too, in a way that could only be described as ululating. I helped them raise the banner. They shook it wildly, their movements rippling the huge tiger we had drawn, its body stretching and lunging above our heads, its tail pointed, its head in the beginning of a snarl.

It seemed like the entire gymnasium quieted. I wanted to quiet down, too, seeing everybody staring at us. Grandmother and grandfather continued their banner waving and cheering, and I would not abandon them. Still, my stomach twisted, wishing people would look away. But Louise’s team gathered, pointed to us, and cheered right back.

Louise stood in the middle of them all. Her eyes were wide, her lips just barely parted before breaking into a smile. Both her hands came to her mouth and then extended outward, a kiss blown in our direction. I wanted to shrink away, now for a different reason. I was delighted and would rather have harbored this feeling of joy alone for a moment.

The game ended not long after, with Louise’s team winning in straight sets. Grandfather’s voice was hoarse, and grandmother had not stopped waving her end of the banner, even when it was lowered by our feet.

Louise jogged over afterward. Grandmother began cheering all over again, her hands waving as if a celebrity were approaching. Louise took her hand in both of hers.