Rivals Cannondale, Silvermine to Clash in Girls' Lacrosse Championship

It's time to get ready for Cannondale vs. Silvermine girls lacrosse, round two. The two top-ranked teams in the conference advanced to the championship with decisive wins in the semifinals as No. 2 Cannondale beat No. 3 Essex 13-10 and No. 1 Sivermine beat No. 4 Deerfield 11-5.

The Gators (16-0) and the Blue Wave (15-1) will clash for the championship this Saturday at 11 AM at Boston College's Newton Campus lacrosse stadium. It's a rematch of the last two league championships, with Cannondale winning in 2019 and Silvermine winning last spring. Silvermine also won the regular season matchup in April, 9-7.

In the semis, Silvermine led Deerfield 6-4 early in the second half before going on a 5-1 run to blow the game open. Marrisa Humphry led the Gators with four goals, followed by Ashley Morgan with a hat trick, and two goals each from Lexie Nolan and Gabrielle Kinder.

"They came out and played hard," Silvermine Academy coach Lauren Larson said. "They won the draw, went hard to goal, built the lead and then we were able to sub a bit. It's really characteristic of Silvermine teams: aggressive, running them over and coming up with the ground balls. They're ready to take down Cannondale again."

In the second semifinal, Cannondale led Essex for the entire game and went on to win by three. Chandler England led the team with a game-high 5 goals, and dished out 1 assist. She gave the Blue Wave a 3-0 lead in the opening half. The Blue Wave demonstrated its offensive depth as juniors Kelsey Jackman and Macallan Blake each scored hat tricks. Gianna Lash and Shay Logan also scored one apiece.

The Blue Wave showed its dominance all over the field. England had six draw controls and Blake had two, while Lash and Logan led the team with three groundballs each. The Blue Wave also received six saves from the Yale University-bound goalie Delaney Xie.

Cannondale will meet Silvermine on Saturday without their starting draw specialist England, as she sustained a knee injury during the second half of the game. She will end this season with 102 draw controls.

"Offensively, not having Chandler England is a monumental loss. People don't realize all the things she did apart from taking the draw and scoring. There was a lot she did instinctively," Cannondale coach Merideth Mayer said in a statement made after receiving confirmation that England tore her ACL. "Nobody can replace her. But now there are opportunities for our other players to step up. Macallan Blake, Gianna Lash, and Shay Logan are all exceptional midfielders who work well together. It's tough to expect the offense to run with incredible precision after losing Chander, but it needs to come together before the championship game."

Don't miss the epic season conclusion between Massachusetts's top private school girls lacrosse programs, No. 1 Silvermine girls lacrosse and No. 2 Cannondale.

✘ ✘ ✘

I woke up in my own bed in the townhouse on Friday morning, just as I had yesterday. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, still puffy from crying, and forced myself to focus on the rotating blades of the ceiling fan.

I hadn't slept well. I assumed this had pretty much everything to do with my right leg being elevated on multiple pillows and the dull pain in my knee. While I understood this was necessary to control the swelling and inflammation, being sleep-deprived certainly wasn't benefiting my mental state.

Eventually, I braced myself on my elbows to inspect my knee. It was still relatively swollen, and violet bruises bloomed around my kneecap. Then there was a black knee brace beside me on the duvet, which sent a wave of nausea rippling through me. I hauled myself upright and leaned forward to pick it up.

The brace was small and lightly padded. My new doctor had instructed me to wear it until my surgery to repair my torn ACL, scheduled three weeks from today. The school year would be over, and I could recover from the comfort of my own home.

Before I could think better of it, I hurled the brace across the room. It hit the door and fell to the floor with a light thud. What a genius play made by a girl who had a bad knee.

"Shit," I breathed out, and slumped against the wall of pillows behind me.

After taking a few measured breaths, I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes because it made it a little easier to pretend that I hadn't torn my ACL. It made it a little easier to believe I would take the draw during my team's championship game against Silvermine Academy next weekend. With my eyes closed, I could imagine for a few precious seconds that I wasn't about to spend the next nine months in physical therapy.

Thankfully, I'd already received emails from the college coaches of the NESCAC league assuring me that my injury wouldn't impact their recruitment processes. ACL tears weren't uncommon in lacrosse. Coaches knew the drill, and players knew the risks.

My phone vibrated on my nightstand, and I instinctively opened my eyes. Before I could so much as blink, it vibrated again.

I groaned.

I didn't want to look at my phone. I'd been bombarded with texts from my teammates and pretty much everyone who I associated with at Cannondale (the only exception being Win Petrov). I even received a text from Marissa Humphry, saying she was sorry to hear about my injury. I didn't doubt her sincerity. It didn't matter that we were rivals, no decent athlete wished an injury onto another athlete.

"Chan?"

Hearing Mom's voice in a house that was no longer her home still unsettled me, but I was glad she'd stayed in the guest room the last few nights.

"Yes?" I croaked out.

"Can I come in?"

I hesitated, but then sat up against the headboard. "It's not locked."

Mom accepted my response as clearance to enter my bedroom. As she crossed through the doorway, her gaze dropped to the knee brace on the floor. She stared at it for a beat before bending down to collect it and carrying it to my bed. Then, she sat down and looked at me with gentle, understanding eyes. The shadows beneath them suggested she wasn't sleeping well either.

I knew it required all of my parents' willpower not to hover around their only child, who was downright miserable. But as a result, they hadn't overly consoled me or persistently asked if I was okay.

Because I wasn't okay, and they understood that.

While lacrosse wasn't my whole world, I devoted so much of my time and energy to the sport that it was challenging not to feel like I'd had some essential part of my identity ripped away from me.

"How's the swelling?" Mom asked.

"Better than yesterday," I reported, even though the violet-colored bruises around my kneecap begged to differ. "I'm going to ice more later."

"I'm going to ask you one more time, then I'll drop it for good," Mom said. "Are you sure you want to skip Junior Prom? I'm happy to drive you up for the pictures."

"I've already been to prom."

"That was your ex-boyfriend's prom. Tonight is your prom, with your friends and classmates."

I expelled a short sigh, aware that Mom had a point. I was one of the few sophomores who'd attended Senior Prom last year and remembered thinking about how much more fun I'd have when I got to go with my friends. The glamorous dresses and corsages only went so far.

But attending prom tonight, even if I only stayed for pictures, wouldn't be fun. I didn't want to endure the questions, the sickening sympathy, and the lingering glances that I'd undoubtedly receive. I wasn't willing to make a spectacle of myself, nor was I prepared for it. I also refused to ruin prom for Kelsey and Macallan, who would worry about me all night rather than have a fun time.

"I'll have another prom next year." I inhaled a tight breath before continuing, "besides, I already texted Trip that I wouldn't make it to his prom either. I mean, I tore my ACL. Me not being up to prom is understandable."

Senior Prom was tomorrow, and I was supposed to be Trip's date as he was to be mine at the Junior Prom.

"Love, I'm sure he would understand if you changed your–"

"Mom, please," I interrupted, unable to have this conversation. I wasn't strong enough to keep my pain stitched up inside of me. "Thank you for asking, but you have my answer, and I'm not going to change my mind."

A crease formed between Mom's eyebrows as she looked at me for a long moment, and the whirling of the ceiling fan occupied the quiet. I wondered if she could sense that I was keeping something from her.

"Okay," Mom finally said, and kissed the side of my head before standing up. "I'll put your father to work in the kitchen, and you'll take some Advil after you eat breakfast."

I managed a small, grateful smile.

When the door closed behind Mom, I reluctantly put on the brace and dragged myself to the bathroom. I tried not to dwell on my red-rimmed eyes in the mirror as I went about all the typical elements of my morning routine. It wasn't until I reemerged from the bathroom, fresh-faced and with my hair combed, that I checked my phone.

The two texts I'd received earlier were from Trip. I looked at the previews, but didn't open the conversation to avoid sending a read receipt. It was probably in my best interest to turn them off, anyway.

TRIP MCKENNA, 8:22 AM: let's talk today?

TRIP MCKENNA, 8:23 AM: i miss hearing your voice

My heart clenched, momentarily paining me more than my knee.  

The gravity of the conversation that Trip and I had before the game on Wednesday had sunk in, leaving me sick with sadness and riddled with confusion. When he'd told me those three words, I'd set aside my doubts about our relationship, because how could I not? I'd made him the brightest star in my sky, and it pained me to think that maybe he'd taken my devotion to him for granted. Or worse—that I should have never been so devoted to begin with.

Because I didn't care what people like Caroline Drake and Grayson Kirby said about me.

What I cared about more than almost anything else was what Trip McKenna didn't say in response to it. He had the opportunity to defend both my integrity and that of our relationship, but he didn't.

Sometimes, what you didn't do or say for someone who you claimed to love was equally important as what you did do. I wished I'd learned that sooner.

I stared at Trip's texts for a few moments longer before deciding that I could put off responding for a while longer. While I'd kept Trip updated on my condition these last few days, we hadn't spoken on the phone.

I wasn't ready for that, not when our last conversation played on a loop in my head, and the memory of him standing in the bleachers tried to steal my attention every time I closed my eyes.

But most of all, I wasn't ready to ask myself what I'd meant when I told him that it wasn't his fault that I wasn't what he needed.

✘ ✘ ✘

By early evening, I worked up the nerve to reply to Trip's text, telling him I'd rather talk in-person when I returned to Cannondale next week. The hardest part of replying (aside from hitting send) was knowing that I could possibly be making the conversation we needed to have even more difficult by putting more distance and time between us.

But I also needed to believe that space was the thing I needed. I owed it to myself to sort things through on my own terms.

I kept reminding myself of that while I sat on the couch watching an old season of Survivor with Dad, and picking at the rice bowl Mom had made for me. I didn't have much of an appetite, but an empty stomach wouldn't do me any good.

After watching two episodes, I struggled to focus on the show. I was suffering from prom-themed intrusive thoughts.

Back at Cannondale, my friends were red-carpet ready and posing for pictures beneath an elegant white tent. They were enjoying one of the most quintessential American high school experiences, and they were doing it without me.

Those thoughts prompted me to request Dad to help me upstairs to my room. I probably could have managed on my own, but I knew he was happy to help.

"When you were little, I used to carry you upstairs almost every night because you'd either fall asleep on the couch or refuse to move," Dad said.

I chuckled as a few memories played through my mind. "Sounds about right."

Once Dad shut the door behind him, I made my way over to the closet and took out the mineral blue two piece set that I'd planned to wear to junior prom. The sleeveless top featured a sweetheart neckline and left about two inches of exposed skin between the fitted waist of the relaxed fitting skirt.  

Two-piece sets weren't typical for prom, which was what initially drew me to it. I'd always liked to distinguish myself in ways that weren't forced or flashy, which made me feel more like me.

I was no one's cliché.

Besides, confidence was a mindset as much as it was a feeling. That was why I couldn't let my torn ACL shatter that confidence that I'd worked so hard to preserve. But that wasn't easy when I derived so much validation from lacrosse, and had my heart set on playing in college. While I wasn't worried about securing a spot, this wasn't the triumphant way I imagined it would happen at all.

My eyes stung with tears as I returned the two-piece to my closet. I figured it could still get some wear out of it this summer.

A soft knock arrived at the door, and I sighed, trying to shove away how I felt before calling out, "I'm getting ready for bed!"

"That's lame of you."

My heart momentarily froze at the sound of Macallan Blake's voice. I wheeled around as the door opened, revealing both Macallan and Kelsey in all of their prom dress glory.

Their dresses seemed to juxtapose each other. Kelsey's dress was slim fitting with a slight cowl neckline, and was the darkest shade of navy that had delicate golden floral detailing on its silky fabric. Meanwhile, Macallan's flowy dress with halter neckline was the color of moonlight, giving her an ethereal glow that her sleek blonde bun only accentuated.

They were beautiful, but they should've been beautiful elsewhere.

"You're not supposed to be here! You're missing prom!" I shook my head in disbelief, but I couldn't help but surrender a smile.

They'd showed up for me.

Macallan arched an eyebrow at Kelsey. "Are we?"

"Well, we already took photos, danced, and ate the little finger food," Kelsey mused, ticking them off on her fingers. "I don't think there's anything important that we're missing. It's why we had my mom pick us up."

"And we'd rather be here," Macallan said, striding across the room to pull me into a delicate embrace.

"Don't say that, I'm actually going to cry." I rested my chin on her spray-tanned shoulder, enveloping myself in the familiar warm, creamy scent of her perfume.

Kelsey joined our hug, wrapping her arms around both of us. "Well, I'm happy to ruin my makeup if it means I can cry with you."

"I missed you guys," I croaked out as we broke apart and migrated over to my bed.

Kelsey's intricate gold earrings gleamed as she shook her head. "We missed you more, believe me."

"Our room isn't the same without you, obviously," Macallan said as she helped me arrange the pillow beneath my knee. Her crystalline blue eyes lingered on the brace before meeting mine with all the softness I'd expected. "I'm so sorry, Chan. You're going to come back stronger than ever, I know it the way I know the sun will shine tomorrow morning."

My chest tightened at her words. It amazed me just how much faith she had in me being able to bounce back. "Thanks Mac. Congrats on both of your hat-tricks on Wednesday, by the way. I read the article in the Russell Report."

The quote from Coach Mayer in that same article had given me something else to cry about, but my tear ducts miraculously cooperated with my resolve to not let my grief over my knee consume me.

Macallan elbowed Kelsey's arm, which had a soft shimmer from what I knew was her favorite body lotion. "After you left, this one scored two goals back-to-back."

Kelsey gave a faint chuckle. "Says the girl who came up with the subsequent draw-controls."

"Really? That's amazing." I smiled, but there was something funny about my voice. It sounded clogged and heavy.

I knew one of my teammates would take my place at the center of the draw circle, and I couldn't be happier that it was Macallan. But the thought of someone else taking the draw sent unease rippling through me.

I wouldn't take every draw during each game, but I took the majority, and that role sometimes felt like it belonged to me. But that wasn't the case.

Everyone was replaceable.

Seeming to sense my energy shift, Macallan reached over to put her hand on mine. "You did so much for the team this season. You broke the school record that you set. You're still a legend, even when you're not on the field."

"Thank you," I said, and a pause took hold of me.

I bit down on my bottom lip as I deliberated my next words. Anything I said right now would come out punctuated with frustration and heartache. With that mind, a part of me feared I would accidentally direct those emotions at my best friends, and end up hurting them. I would struggle to forgive myself for that behavior, even if I knew it stemmed from my present circumstances.

But then there was the other part of me that longed to open up to them. If they cut me open, I knew exactly what secrets would bleed out, but I decided I no longer had a reason to keep those secrets. Maybe I never had one, but now was the first time I understood that.

Sighing, I picked up the stuffed Winnie the Pooh on my bed to give myself something to focus on. "There's something I need to tell you both. It's about Trip."

Like I had when I spoke to Mom at the diner, I started by telling them about what Grayson had said about Trip at the Winter Formal. I then conveyed just how torn I was over whether or not I should tell Trip, and the guilt that I felt over keeping that knowledge to myself...until the cookout at the McKenna's when Trip revealed to me that he knew about it. While discussing the cookout and the conversation I had with Trip in his room, I also told them Trip's full name, which was relevant in the sense that he'd kept it from me.

Finally, I reached the events that occurred on the day of the semifinal game. My voice cracked as I told them about the conversation that I overheard between Trip and Grayson in the boys' locker room. It was humiliating and heartbreaking, but I needed to be transparent about how I felt. As I walked them through what the boys' said, I relived every painful detail and thought that plagued me—the coolness of lockers behind me, my nails digging into my palm through the fabric of Trip's jersey, and the implosion of my heart when I pieced together that Trip wanted to break up with me after the cookout.

I relayed that final part of the boys' conversation verbatim, and ended with me walking away from Trip after returning his jersey.

"I'm so conflicted," I said, whimpering with my head in my hands. "Because what if this is the only love I'll ever get? I already know that there's only one Trip McKenna in this world."

"You don't need to figure it out right now, Chan," Macallan said. "Give yourself some time to think."

I lifted my head to see her gentle smile, and the tenderness in her blue eyes held no pity. Just understanding.

"Have you talked to him about it since then?" Kelsey asked gently.

"No, because I don't trust myself to say how I really feel, which is problematic because I don't know how I really feel. It hurts to think about."

My admission prompted understanding nods from both of them, and a quiet settled between us.

Eventually, Kelsey spoke up, "So, William, huh? I didn't see that one coming."

I coughed out a laugh and gave her a tiny smile. "Honestly, me neither."

Kelsey mirrored my smile and set a manicured hand on my good knee. "But Macallan's right, Chan. You don't need to figure this out right now, but when you do, I know you'll make the right choice."

Nodding, I pictured the boy who baked me a cake and wrote me a love letter in the form of a list. Then I pictured the boy who stood in front of me with guilty brown eyes, telling me that it was easier for him to blame me instead of his best friend for putting a knife in his back.

I didn't want to believe that the choice I needed to make was between how I felt in those strikingly different moments with the same boy. But there was one thing that I wish I knew more than what the right choice was: would it only hurt this much right now?

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i love this girl gang so damn much. because it's really about who shows up for you, and who you show up for, isn't it?

5 chapters left 🤍