High School Girls Lacrosse Preview: Cannondale and Silvermine Poised to Continue Conference Title Runs

The Cannondale School will have a rare chip on their shoulders this season. After winning three successive conference championship titles, the team's top rival Silvermine Academy took home the trophy last June. The 12-11 overtime decision was certainly on both teams' minds during the offseason.

The Cannondale School has playmakers all over the field, starting with captain Delaney Xie in the goal, Chandler England dominating at midfield, and Kelsey Jackman leading the attack. There are no visible areas of weakness for this formidable team. 

The Silvermine Academy graduated a number of key players but will return with a strong lineup that has both the skill and confidence to make a run at a second straight conference title. The offense will be potent with Marissa Humphry and Ashley Morgan ready to take charge, with Humphry also on the center circle.

Cannondale will face Silvermine on April 26, which could easily be the fiercest match-up of the season.

10 PLAYERS TO WATCH IN THE LEAGUE

Macallan Blake, Cannondale
Anna Caan, Winsor
Chandler England, Cannondale
Julia Harmon, Deerfield
Marissa Humphry, Silvermine
Kelsey Jackman, Cannondale
Ashley Morgan, Silvermine
Paige Turner, Groton
Sloane Vaught, Winsor
Delaney Xie, Cannondale

I swiped out of the article on my phone and glanced up at my teammates standing around me at the home bench of the turf. Our Thursday's captain's practice had just wrapped up when sophomore Libby Seymour sent the link in our team's group chat, and we'd all stopped packing up our gear to read it.

"Damn right there are no visible areas of weakness for this formidable team," I declared with a purposeful flick of my braid. 

The rivalry between the Cannondale School and Silvermine Academy was intense. Silvermine was another prestigious Boston boarding school that also had competitive athletic programs, and the games against them were the ones that would draw in throngs of energized students who wouldn't otherwise sit in the bleachers.

"That'll be the first of many articles from The Russell Report," Delaney said, placing her helmet inside of her goalie bag and zipping it up. "Vale emailed Grayson, Trip, and me to have us stop by his office tomorrow to do interviews with Brett Russell himself."

"The man, the myth, the sports journalist who's dedicated his career to high school sports," Kelsey proclaimed dramatically and I snorted.

The Russell Report was a popular online newspaper covering Suffolk County high school athletics, but it emphasized the private schools in the Boston area. Every article Russell published about our team featured my name, though that didn't mean he wrote about me in glowing terms.

"And Trip McKenna," Macallan piped up, poking me in the hip with the butt of her stick. "That article Russell wrote on him last season could've passed as a love letter. You might have competition, Chan."

"You're hilarious, Mac," I deadpanned as I unbraided my ponytail and ran my fingers through the loose waves. Deciding to deflect, I recalled one of my postgame interviews for The Russell Report. "Russell once asked me how I felt about other players in the league saying I'm unnecessarily aggressive on the draw. The guy is a total gossip-monger."

"By other players, Russell probably meant your best friend Marissa Humphry," Kelsey quipped, her blatant sarcasm scoring her a few giggles. Everyone knew which directions bad blood flowed.

I glowered, but huffed out a laugh. "Too soon, Kelsey. Still too soon."

Even before I yellow-carded Marissa during the championship game last season, we were far from friendly and had a rivalry to show for it.

We'd played for the same club lacrosse team, Boston Elite, since the sixth grade alongside other top players in the league - Kelsey and Macallan included. We traveled the east coast during the summer and fall, playing games at tournaments with college scouts on the sidelines. But just because we were teammates on Boston Elite, that didn't make us any less competitive during the high school season, especially because she was Silvermine's top draw specialist.

Marissa was good, but I was better. She wanted to prove otherwise, and I wanted to prove that even when she came up with the ball, everyone still saw me as the best. That's what my stellar stat sheet was for.

"Marissa was at the NESCAC showcase with us in October," Macallan said, directing her words at Gianna. One of these days, she'll be caught up to date on our trio's collective antics. "She and Chan acted like they didn't know each other."

"We ignored each other. There's a difference," I retorted. We were directly competing against each other for a future in collegiate lacrosse, so I felt no obligation to play nice. I only played clean. 

"Marissa must think she's a lock-in at Trinity," Kelsey claimed, referring to one of the eleven colleges in the NESCAC. "She wears a Bantam sweatshirt in every other Snapchat story she posts."

"Well I have zero interest in attending college in Hartford, Connecticut, so Marissa is more than welcome to have Trinity," I stated plainly.

Kelsey laughed, and as she opened her mouth to respond, something over my shoulder seized her attention. She clicked her tongue. "Incoming testosterone at twelve-o'clock."

I twisted to partially turn around, lifting a hand to shield my eyes from the bright afternoon light. Marching up the main sidewalk to the turf were members of the boys' varsity lacrosse team. Even when they were over fifty yards away and not carrying gear, the black windbreakers were a dead giveaway. There was no way they didn't coordinate.

It took me all of ten seconds to conclude that Trip wasn't present, and my attention dissipated into the cold afternoon air.

I turned back to Kelsey, rolling my eyes. "Why do they have to be everywhere always?"

"So, chicken Caesar wraps are on the dinner menu tonight," Gianna said, appearing to be equally disinterested in the approaching squadron. The four of us were all almost packed up, anyway, and could soon start the walk back to Roosevelt Hall to clean up for dinner. "Are they any good?"

"Better than you'd think they would be," I informed her as I retrieved my thin gold bracelet from the front pocket of my lacrosse backpack and clasped it back onto my right wrist. I'd always made a point of practicing without any of my jewelry on.

"My wraps literally always fall apart and turn my plate into a food massacre," Macallan complained, wrinkling her nose as she shouldered her backpack. "My assigned table buddies are in for a real treat."

Kelsey and I laughed, both having witnessed the epic battle between Macallan and chicken Caesar wraps before. For all her fashionable elegance, she wasn't the neatest.

"Please tell me they switch up the tables, though," Gianna said and sighed. "There's this theater girl at my table who talked my ear off about Broadway. I mean, I love it too, but she was possessive over it because she also acts and sings."

"Tables switch every other month," I answered, picking my lacrosse stick up off of the turf. "We've never been seated together since the deans are hawks who know who's friends with who."

"And who isn't," Kelsey chimed in as she tugged her UVA sweatpants on over her black leggings. "I swear they stick people together just for their own entertainment. Chandler and Win, for example."

I scoffed and shook my head as the four of us finally broke away from the rest of the girls. "Because Win and I put on such a great show for Headmistress Harvey."

To be fair to Kelsey, Win and I were suspiciously assigned to the same table after he botched our marble roller coaster project in Honors Physics last term. Adding on an additional loop for what he claimed was the easiest opportunity for extra credit didn't pay off. I'd just needed to remind him of why he should've just listened to me in the first place and done a twist instead, but no. The result of this arrangement was a small, dinnertime dispute on the first Thursday of November. Headmistress Harvey happened to swoop by the table, and complimented us for clearing the air right off the bat. Her sarcasm was more effective than a traditional scolding ever could be.

"Oh, we're in for a show," Libby loudly cooed, smirking over at us upperclassmen. "One of you ladies is about to get officially asked to Winter Formal."

Of course, all eyes rocketed over to me. Except they shouldn't have. Trip wasn't here.

But denial wasn't a good look for me, and there was something to be said for daylight inducing clarity.

Grayson Kirby now led the group like it was his sole purpose in life and was carrying a large brown bag by the handles. The guys behind him were no longer in a clump but walked shoulder-to-shoulder. Then, in a strangely impressive act of coordination, they yanked down the zippers of their windbreakers to reveal that they weren't wearing another shirt underneath.

The reason for this sent ice searing through my veins that was colder than the January air. Painted onto their chests were large blue letters, spelling out FORMAL with a tasteful question-mark on junior Jay Booker's tan chest. 

The turf might as well be a stage, except there weren't any equivalents to curtains that I could throw myself behind. I had no choice but to endure in the spotlight.

"Chandler." Gianna stepped forward to stand beside me, and her pinched eyebrows indicated that she'd worked out what was about to happen.

"I got this." I squared my shoulders, invisible gold armor weighing down on them. My lacrosse stick might as well be my sword.

"I'll back your play," Macallan said, her blue eyes cold the way I imagined mine were.

Both Gianna and Kelsey nodded in solidarity.

Against the backdrop of his shirtless teammates, Grayson unapologetically sauntered over to where I stood. The bouquet of flowers he pulled out of the brown bag were so perfect that they looked fake. They would look even more perfect in a dumpster.

Grayson extended the bouquet, his lips cocked in a smirk. "What do you say, Chandler England? Will you go to Winter Formal with me?"

I spared a glance over at my teammates. Delaney wore a terse smile, and Libby was grinning with her phone lifted, ready to take pictures or video if she hadn't already. She also wasn't the only one, not by a long shot. Documenting the official act of asking someone to Winter Formal was custom, and so was uploading it as an Instagram or Snapchat story. News like this always traveled fast, but social media was like rocket fuel that provided it with the highest achievable velocity.

Foresight suddenly electrified me; if I were to turn him down, I'd be the bitch and the heartbreaker and the girl everyone would talk about for all the wrong reasons. There would be a story before I could even find the words to share my own.

I couldn't let that happen, but self-preservation and self-interest didn't always go hand-in-hand.

The smile I forced cut me open. 

"How can I refuse?"