“You all are amazing,” she laughed, looking between the three of us. Then she looked only at me. “Thank you.”

“It was all them,” I murmured. “I’m not very loud.”

“Oh, come on.” I could see the sweat along her forehead. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“I—” Grandmother nudged me with her elbow. “Yeah, I guess so. Grandmother did the drawing though, I just outlined it. And grandfather—”

“Take the credit, Monica,” grandfather huffed.

“Yeah!” Louise crossed her arms. “You’re always doing such nice things for me. I don’t know why you’d bother.”

Another nudge from grandmother.

“I—well, I like you,” I managed.

She tilted her head. I tried to make it sound casual. Had she seen right through me, though? Would she talk about me with her teammates afterward, and would they all laugh at me?

“I like you too,” she said gently. “I’ll grab my stuff, and then we can head back together?”

“You’re not going to celebrate with your teammates?” I asked.

“Nah, I already spend too much time with them.” She ran off, waving behind her.

“She likes you!” grandmother exclaimed in a whisper that everybody around us definitely heard.

“We’re friends,” I mumbled.

“Hmmmm.”

On our way home, grandmother and grandfather swiped their senior passes on the bus scanner with gusto. They asked Louise questions about plays they saw earlier in the night—my answers had clearly been unsatisfactory. There was a lot of pantomiming of volleyball moves, praise for Louise’s clever thinking, and curses for the opposing team, who grandfather was convinced had played dirty.

“Ah, Monica!” Grandmother tried to draw me into the conversation. “Maybe you can learn to play volleyball too!”

“I don’t think I’m tall enough.” I smiled.

“Ah, you are probably right.” Grandmother sighed. “Louise is much taller than you are. Louise is like an asparagus. And you . . . you are more like a button mushroom.”

“I—I’m not that short!”

“Mm, I love mushrooms, though!” Louise grinned.

“They all have their strengths,” grandfather placated right before pressing the button for our stop.

When we were outside of the house, Louise tugged my jacket sleeve.

“Want to walk a bit more?”

“We’ll go in first and prepare dinner,” grandmother said awfully quickly. Grandfather followed grandmother dutifully, fumbled in his jacket for the keys before they both disappeared inside the house.

“Where did you want to go?” I asked.

“Anywhere.”

We headed toward the river. The neighborhood from our house to the Charles River is a quiet one. The only other people out were dog walkers and the occasional passing car. After we walked in silence for a block, I could not hold it in any longer. I asked if she was feeling alright.