The Cannondale Weekly

Cannondale Athletics Update: Blue Wave Lacrosse Programs Remain Undefeated

By Caroline Drake

The Cannondale School is home to two of the state's most elite lacrosse programs. The boys and girls varsity lacrosse teams remain undefeated, both 5-0 in their respective divisions. The Blue Wave hosted two games on Friday, drawing impressive crowds.

Boys Varsity Lacrosse: The Blue Wave outperformed Belmont Country Day School on a wet and overcast night, pulling out an 8-4 victory. Senior captain Trip McKenna was the best player on the field, scoring four goals and assisting on two more while helping the Blue Wave defense. McKenna's co-captain Grayson Kirby scored the first two goals of the second half to assert a 7-2 lead, allowing the Blue Wave to sail to yet another victory.

"Their consistency is unbelievable," said Cannondale Athletic Director Chris Vale when asked about Kirby and McKenna."That comes from playing together practically twelve months a year, never letting down and putting in the extra work. After three top-notch  seasons, no one should be surprised that they are a force to be reckoned with."

Girls Varsity Lacrosse: The Blue Wave blitzed by Nod Hill Academy in a 15-6 win. Juniors Kelsey Jackman (six goals, two assists) and Chandler England (five goals, three assists) led in scoring. The team was also paced offensively by two goals from Gianna Lash and one goal apiece from Macallan Blake and Shay Logan.

England also received her first yellow card of the season, a harrowing reminder of how her aggressive play put the team in a dire man-down situation during the state championship game last season against Silvermine Academy.

"Chandler and Kelsey are tremendous athletes," Coach Mayer said. "They come out and play confident. Chandler coming up with the draws in the beginning got our offensive momentum going, but the girls always play as a team. There are no individuals, it's a group effort. Delaney Xie also had an outstanding game. Her 10 saves made an incredible difference, and she's the anchor who consistently keeps the team fired up."

While it's still early in the season, the Blue Wave lacrosse programs look to be on track for domination. Both teams will face their biggest rival, Silvermine Academy, in April.

✘ ✘ ✘

The Cannondale School knew how to throw a party.

Courting the New England elite wasn't for the faint of heart, but Cannondale boasted a long, rich history of success. They knew how to impress them and drafted some of their most impressive students as front-line soldiers - two of those soldiers being Trip and myself.

We'd received our call to serve our school before finalizing our plans to go downtown on Sunday. Unfortunately, there had been no plausible way to evade the party. We had to play the part of true Cannondale patriots.

The first floor of the old colonial manor on campus was Cannondale's chosen battleground for the party. My last time at the manor was on the night of the Winter Formal; I'd torn off my corsage in the front lawn. But tonight, I floated between rooms, armed with a smile as I engaged with too many guests to count.

After a lengthy conversation with a family that looked to have teleported out of a Vineyard Vines store, I was lucky enough to find Trip in the long hallway running between the library and the great room.

Trip ran both hands down the front of his blue shirt. It was the same one he'd worn to dinner after Grayson asked me to Winter Formal.

"Do I look okay?" he asked, turning away from the rectangular mirror mounted on the Damask wallpaper. "I think this is wrinkled. Vale should've asked someone else to represent Cannondale's athletic programs."

An amused smile pulled at my lips because I couldn't imagine a scenario in which Vale didn't pick Trip. Every Cannondale athlete knew Vale had favorites, and Trip was undoubtedly his favorite of his chosen favorites. No one would question why Trip would stand at a podium in front of tonight's guests, speaking on Cannondale's esteemed athletic programs. 

I brushed a curl out of his eyes. "You look very handsome. You always do."

Trip's chuckle was a little unsure as he caught my hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to my knuckles. "I don't know why I'm nervous. Public speaking is fine, but this type of crowd isn't always the nicest."

I caught my smile faltering, and compensated by gently spinning that ring on his pointer finger. I'd made a little habit out of it. By 'this type of crowd', Trip was alluding to the archetype of New England's elite with their old money and snobby disposition disguised as decorum. It was an archetype that didn't fall short all that often in Boston or at Cannondale.

"You'll be great, Trip," I assured him, curling my fingers around his, hoping my touch would anchor his confidence like his did for me. "I know you will be."

A squadron of girls wearing Lilly Pulitzer suddenly paraded into the hallway, cutting our reprieve from the party and its guests short. I didn't miss the way the girls blushed and let their eyes linger on Trip, even though he was at least three years older than them.  

I slipped my hand out of Trip's when we returned to the great room, but I only made it a few steps beyond the large arched doorway when I felt my gaze sharpen. It was so unnecessary for the Cannondale Weekly to have two student journalists attending the party, especially when there was nothing impressive about Caroline Drake. She'd leveraged her meager status as a student journalist as a pretense to take a pathetic shot at me.

"What was that?" Trip asked.

I cut my eyes back to him, seeing the corners of his mouth lifted in amusement. "Hm?"

"You made a face."

"What face?"

"A face I hope you don't ever look at me with."

I scoffed, shaking my head. Trip had evidently followed the direction of my gaze, and I had no reason to evade offering him an explanation.

"Did you read the Cannondale Weekly article recapping the lacrosse season?" I made an effort to keep my voice quiet, not wanting us to be overheard now that we'd returned to a congested room.

Trip shook his head, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. I took a moment to pull up the article on my phone before handing it over to him.

"The part about my yellow card is so snarky and targeted," I asserted as I stepped closer so I could view the screen as he read. "It's not proper journalistic etiquette."

I refrained from informing him that no one unintentionally wrote something like that - especially not a catty teenage girl who clearly envied me for whatever reason.

Trip returned my phone. "Would you consider talking to Caroline about it?"

"I'm not considering talking to her. I'm going to do it tonight while we're both here."

He inhaled a measured breath through his teeth. "Hold on, Chan. I don't know if that's the most diplomatic approach."

"I've had to tolerate a lot of anonymous attacks on my character lately, and it's hard to accept that there's only so much I can do about that." I paused, my heart unexpectedly brittle with hurt. "But this? I actually know who wrote this, so I owe it to myself to say something."

"You're right," Trip nodded. "I do think you should say something. Just maybe not here."

The flecks of gold in his brown eyes held my focus as I contemplated my course of action. The steady chatter in the room and distant piano music occupied the pause ballooning between us. Trip was entitled to his opinions, and I would always want to hear them. I wanted to know when I was wrong, even when it meant walking away from something I was more than inclined to do at this moment.

"Okay," I finally relented with a nod. "Not here, not tonight."

"Okay," Trip echoed, tucking back a stray lock of hair that had slipped out of my messy bun, his fingertips grazing my cheek. "I bet she didn't mean it that way. I think she's still figuring out the whole sports journalism thing."

I tilted my head back an inch, arching an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, we've talked about it. There's this sports journalism internship she's applying for, and the application requires a writing sample. She asked if she could write an article on me." 

"And you agreed."

"It's already done," Trip said, something crossing his face that I couldn't quite decipher. "I met her in the library last week for an interview. I wanted to help her out, you know?"

Disregarding the sincerity underscoring Trip's words was borderline impossible. That genuine, magnetic confidence he radiated pulled people in, and for good reason.

"That makes perfect sense," I nodded, despite wishing it didn't. "I'm sure it'll be a great article."

Trip nodded in return, but with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. I preferred not to believe it was because he doubted me.

"That's all you want to say, Chandler?" Trip finally asked, his voice gentle, void of any accusation. I wasn't even sure if I'd anticipated any because I suddenly wanted to banish every disconcerting thought from my head.

"That's all."

His hand gave a subtle twitch, and mine reacted, as if our bodies' natural instinct was to reach for each other's, but something intangible pulled us back. Maybe if I believed in things like divine intervention, it might have been some twisted version of that.

"Excellent timing!"

Trip and I both turned towards the familiar booming voice. I never thought I'd be relieved to see Cannondale's athletic director.

"Here are two of my most talented lacrosse players," Chris Vale declared, marching up to us with a father and son duo in tow. "Trip McKenna and Chandler England."

Trip initiated a handshake with the father, his smile charming as could be. "Nice to meet you both. Welcome to Cannondale."

I followed Trip's lead, shaking their hands with a generic greeting of my own. The boy's clammy grip forced me to fight off the sudden urge to wipe my hand on the black vegan leather of my pants and locate a sink. 

Vale set his hand on Trip's shoulder with the authority of a proud parent. "Trip is off to play at Duke with a full scholarship. He's in the running for Valedictorian too."

"Very impressive," the father commented, sending his son a quick, pointed look. "Congratulations. Cannondale's secured you a bright future."

"Thank you." Trip directed his gaze at the boy - Ryan, according to the mangled handwriting on his nametag. "I take it you play lacrosse, then?"

Ryan puffed out his chest as much as an eighth-grader could. "Lacrosse and football."

"Well if you want to talk football, my friend is headed to Boston College to be the QB. It shouldn't be too hard to track him down. He's the tall guy who needs a haircut." 

All three of them chuckled at Trip's comment, and Vale's hand returned to his shoulder. I gritted my teeth as I resisted the urge to swat it away; Trip wasn't some trophy for Vale to show off.

As though Vale sensed my gaze, he hitched his head in my direction. "We're lucky Chandler here is only a junior. She can break her own draw-control records for another year."

I flipped an internal switch, turning my smile on. "I'm more than on track for this season."  

As the conversation dragged on, I served more smiles and nodded with what I hoped was an attentive gleam in my eyes. The dull yet aesthetically glamorous dinner parties I'd tolerated growing up had to have counted for something. But Trip expertly steered the discussion with casual poise and discretion that kept me out of the line of conversational fire. His spotlight eclipsed mine tonight.

"It's hard to believe we've got another hour of this," Trip murmured once we politely excused ourselves from the conversation, and skirted along the perimeter of the room.

I sighed, wishing the two of us could just slip away undetected. But even in a manor that felt as sprawling as the sky, I knew that wasn't possible. There was always someone, watching and waiting for shooting stars to blitz through the dark.

"I might take a cat-nap on your shoulder during Headmistress Harvey's speech," I eventually replied, trailing my fingertips along the spines of the books lining the shelf built into the wall.

"As long as you're awake for mine."

Only a light laugh escaped me, but my reaction still elicited an effervescent smile from Trip, alleviating a weight I hadn't realized was pressing down on my shoulders. Preoccupied by his expression, I failed to register that someone was approaching us before it was too late. Caroline Drake needed to learn how to blend out her bronzer better, but I didn't harbor any sympathy for her poor cosmetic skills.  

"I really can't catch a break," I sighed out.

"Hey, can I steal you for a minute? I want to run something by you for the article I'm submitting." Caroline's words came out in a rush, and I selfishly wished I was the one responsible for making her flustered.

"Sure. No problem." Trip's eyes flicked to mine. "Save me a seat in the auditorium later?"

I smoothed a gentle hand over the flared edges of Trip's nametag, holding his gaze for an extended moment. "If you're lucky."

I neglected to acknowledge Caroline's presence as I stepped away from Trip, but she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin up as if refusing to back down from a challenge. As if she had something to prove.

I rolled my eyes, slipping into the sea of guests that only seemed to be expanding as the event wore on. An emotion I had no interest in defining was clawing at my insides like a caged lioness, and feeling like that girl was the absolute last thing I needed.

Just as I reached the arched doorway, I encountered resistance in the form of another student journalist. Tonight would've gone differently if I had my closest allies to barricade me from engaging with anyone else who wasn't worth my time.

"Refrain from plotting Caroline's demise," Win Petrov requested, as if this was his first unconditional requirement in some sort of diplomatic negotiation. "I need her to finish an article before Monday."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, with a dismissive flick of my wrist, my thin gold bracelets clattering against each other. "If anything, I find this entertaining."

He exhaled hard through his nose, as if my response was amusing rather than a deterrent to talk to me. "Consider working on your poker face, Chandler. You look anything but entertained."

I kept my mouth shut, refusing to grant Win whatever verbal reaction he was angling for. I should end our conversation here. I didn't need to be subjected to this. But for some reason, rather than walking away, my heels stayed cemented where they were. It was as if I was anticipating something, perhaps a window of opportunity.   

"What's up, Win?" I questioned, leaning a shoulder against the wooden archway. I could still peer back into the room, making this a strategic position. "Was this you trying to recreate my so-called ambush in the library?"

Win studied me for a silent beat. "There's something I've meant to talk to you about. I've tried to catch you after physics a few times, but you're fast."

"So I'm told. Go on."

Win clenched his jaw, a muscle briefly twitching as he seemed to bite back his instinctive response. "Listen, I'd ask you if you still wanted to write an opinion piece in the Cannondale Weekly, but the school advised the newspaper not to publish anything that could hinder their investigation into the quiz."

"That sounds a lot like censorship to me," I said, lifting a hand and pretending to take interest in my cuticles. I didn't need Win to think that I was still bitter over him previously denying me the opportunity.

"Essentially, yeah," he acknowledged, his gaze momentarily dropping to the floor. "It's shitty, and I wanted to make sure you knew that...it wasn't because the Cannondale Weekly didn't want to publish anything. We would if we could."

I glanced back into the room, my gaze shooting over to where Trip now stood with Vale, his back to me. A cluster of guests were forming around him, pulled into Trip's orbit. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, a gesture I knew well.

Then, there was Caroline. She was making her way through the crowd, her head on a swivel as she appeared to search for someone. Amusement tilted my lips upward when her eyes landed on Win and me. I'd heard the envy in her voice before, but now I'd seen it too. This was the window of opportunity that had tempted me to stay right where I was. I tried to shut my brain up, my conspiring thoughts almost deafening, but there were few things I did better than repartee.

"Don't you mean you would if you could?" I tilted my head to the side as I fixed Win with a sly grin that I reserved for very specific occasions. "You're the editor-in-chief, so it's your call. When censorship isn't involved, of course."

Win's cheeks pinkened, just like I'd planned. "Yeah," he nodded, his hands dipping into the front pockets of his dark khakis. "Yeah, you're right."

I waited a handful of moments to ensure that Caroline was within earshot before making my play. I took an intentionally unhurried step towards Win, setting a hand on his forearm as I couldn't resist getting caught up in my scheme. 

"Well, I've heard that it's the thought that counts," I told him.

Win let out a slow, audible breath, his eyes dropping to my hand just as I stole it back, but I couldn't be bothered with analyzing his expression. This wasn't about him. I slid my attention over to Caroline as I backed away, satisfied at the sight of the thinly veiled dejection in her eyes. She should have known not to play games with a girl who can play better. A girl who knows how to win.

✘ ✘ ✘

The party moved from the manor to the Cannondale Auditorium Theatre. Cobblestones clicked under my block heels as I chatted my way up to the theatre with those girls wearing Lilly Pulitzer. As it turned out, they played club lacrosse with Boston Elite, and had recognized me from the plethora of team photos on the website.

I could've spent the entire party talking about lacrosse, reflecting on frigid tournament games at the crack of dawn in November and how it was impossible to avoid getting a racerback tan line from our jerseys in the summer. It was the kind of lighthearted conversation I seemed to be lacking in recent weeks, and I really did love lacrosse. The girls were only in the eighth grade, their entire high school experience ahead of them, but they had their sights set on playing lacrosse in college. I'd entertained those same dreams. I still did.

After dropping off the girls at the doors leading directly into the theatre, I spotted Jameson Hill outside of another set of doors and waved him over.

"Hey, I was trapped in the dining room the entire night," Jameson sighed out, keeping his voice low as more guests traipsed into the theatre. "But the macaroons they served after this bit last year were to die for, so I'm going to try and smuggle out a few for Mac."

"Conducting a dessert heist in her name?" I laughed, imagining Macallan's reaction. "She'd love that."

He smiled, but it quickly faded, and his eyebrows knitted together as he frowned. "You guys are all holding up okay, right?" he asked. "I know the quiz was brutal, so I want to make sure that I'm there for Macallan, you know? I made her this origami card, but I haven't given it to her yet in case she thought I was overreacting or something."

Judging from the strained look on Jameson's face, this was something he'd put a great deal of thought into, but that didn't faze me. He would walk through fire for Macallan. He would walk through a wildfire, knowing just how much stress she'd dealt with since Winter Formal.

Once Macallan's period had arrived, confirming the results of the test I'd retrieved on her behalf, she'd confided in Jameson. I admired the courage and vulnerability that required, and tried not to wonder what I would've done if it was me.

"I think you're doing all of the right things," I told him, throwing him a thin yet sincere smile. "Definitely give Mac that card, though, and be prepared to smuggle out those macaroons using whatever means necessary."

Jameson chuckled. "I'll do it after my speech. I'm the first student speaker, so I should have time to make a move on the dessert table."

"Ah, yes," I remarked. "Just student body president things."

"I've got my notecards ready," he informed me, grinning as he tapped the pocket of his khakis. "The vibes I'm going for are Barack Obama meets John Mulaney."

"Wow," I drawled, attempting to envision that crossover. "Well, now I have something to look forward to other than this day being over. I regret not making a run for it after leaving the manor."

"Don't forget about Trip's speech," Jameson said, chuckling again. I hummed in acknowledgment, but it was just for show. I could never forget about Trip's speech. "You're a great role model for these kids, Chandler."

"I wouldn't be invited otherwise."