The Halo Effect

16 | blue wave

The day I showed up to my first ever lacrosse practice, I knew I wanted to take the draw. Even at age 6 with braided pigtails, I sought out the most competitive position on the field. I knew with absolute confidence that I needed to stand in that center circle with all eyes on me. The lacrosse field was a stage and I thrived in the spotlight.

I didn't recall having to initially work hard at the draw. I was a perfect natural, and anyone who coached me said as much. If I could win the draw, I could control the direction of the game. That was what I was about to demonstrate tonight at our team's season opener against Winsor Prep.

"Starting at midfield for the Cannondale Blue Wave is #16, Chandler England, #18, Gianna Lash, and #25, Shay Logan!"

The student announcer proceeded to name our four attackers as I jogged down the line of my teammates, tapping the shaft of my lacrosse stick against theirs before heading onto the field. Having already been announced, Delaney and the starting defensive unit stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their sticks in hand.

The evening sun sat low in the sky, ensuring that the early March air still held a biting chill, and I absentmindedly adjusted the waistband of my spandex to align with my skirt. I wore a fitted white Nike thermal beneath my jersey but opted to forgo tights. Once the game started and I was running up and down the field, I'd be perfectly fine.

While the announcer transitioned into naming Winsor's players, I focused on forcing all thoughts regarding Macallan Blake's absence in Cannondale's starting line-up out of my mind. As much as I wished it wasn't the case, Macallan's head wasn't in the game, and it had shown during our first week of practice. She'd missed passes sent to her dominant hand and fumbled on enough ground-balls for it to become noticeable. Meanwhile, Shay Logan was a senior who had started on the circle with me last year, and Gianna Lash earned that final starting spot. I couldn't deny that.

I wanted the absolute best for Macallan, but I was a competitor. The best eleven players belonged on the field, and right now, she wasn't one of them. It wasn't enough to have one spectacular shot or one great day. It was all about consistency, performing day in and day out.

My gaze coasted over to the bleachers packed tight with parents and students. Friday night home games always drew a respectable crowd, but I really didn't care how many people showed up as long as Dad did. A small smile tugged at my lips when I located him in his preferred spot in the front row of the middle section, flanked by the Blakes and the Jackmans. They had attended countless Cannondale lacrosse games and tournaments for our Boston Elite club team together, turning them into a rather formidable clique.

The leader of said clique was easily Kelsey's dad. Mr. Jackman was loud but not in an obnoxious way that some parents were at lacrosse games. His deep and booming voice consistently bellowed out positive commentary throughout every game we played. He also enjoyed throwing in an occasional comedic line for Kelsey, Macallan, and me just because he could.

Following the final announcements, Coach Mayer brought the team into a huddle to review our strategy and go-to offensive plays. She would be calling Comet early on to set Kelsey up for a drive from behind the crease or to feed to a cutter from the top right side of the 8 meter arc.

"Alright, Blue Wave, bring it to them," Coach Mayer finished, clapping her hands together.

"Best of luck out there, ladies," Chris Vale chimed in, looming just outside of our huddle in a heavy black sports jacket with Cannondale's royal blue crest emblazoned on the left chest.

I side-eyed Kelsey, and her lips twitched in a ghost of a grin. It was really too bad that the athletic director's beloved boys' varsity lacrosse team had an away game this evening. I'd much rather have him lurking on their sideline rather than ours.