The Halo Effect

28 | kill them with kindness

Cannondale was going to lose to Silvermine.

The scoreboard read 9 - 7 with less than a minute remaining in the game, and Silvermine was essentially playing keep-away. Coach Mayer called for us to send the double-team, but Silvermine's offence spread themselves out and kept their stickwork infuriatingly perfect.

Even as the clock continued to run out, I stayed glued to Marissa Humphry, predictably my match-up on our defensive end. I couldn't deny the fact that Marissa was playing an excellent game. In addition to scoring four goals, she'd won most of the draws during the first half when I was still serving my sentence on the sidelines.

It was clear that Silvermine knew that I wouldn't play until the second half of the game. I hadn't gone out of my way to broadcast my situation, but it was the kind of gossip-worthy news that effortlessly travelled outside of Cannondale, reaching the other schools in our athletic conference. Earlier in the week, Gianna showed me a post from Silvermine's anonymous message board on bostonspilledtea.com. According to the wildly eloquent post, Cannondale's Chandler England won't play the first half of next week's rivalry game because she missed practice to live the high life on Nantucket.

While I'd rolled my eyes in response, it required a gross amount of emotional effort for me to dismiss even the pettiest message board posts. I imagined it would take even more emotional effort if I kept up to date on the posts from bostonspilledtea.com the way Gianna seemed to do, and almost admired her for it. At least someone actively collected niche social intelligence that prevented me from being totally ignorant (even if that might've been for the best).

There was nothing wrong with being sensitive. I wholeheartedly believed that. But maybe I wasn't even being sensitive. Maybe the people who resorted to using the message boards on bostonspilledtea.com were just outright horrible and deserved to be called out for deriving validation from putting other people down. A girl could dream.

Finally, the buzzer on the scoreboard blared, and the head referee simultaneously blew her whistle. I loosened my grip on the shaft of my lacrosse stick and attempted to tune out the cheers erupting from the section of Silvermine's bleachers designated for the home team. The red and white of Silvermine Academy only slightly outnumbered the blue and black of the Cannondale School. Silvermine was Cannondale's chief rival in almost every sport, so even students who weren't athletes or passionate about lacrosse showed up, wearing Cannondale apparel and being nosier than necessary...until the result of the game became clear.

Marissa removed her mouthguard, slipping it beneath the front strap of her sports bra. Her smirk prefaced her snide remark, "Good game, Chan. I hope Nantucket was worth it."

I shot Marissa a seething glare but had the wisdom to keep my mouth shut. I recognized the merit of being a graceful loser and allowed myself to at least feel decent about choosing the moral high ground.

I met Macallan at mid-field as we jogged over to intercept Delaney and our defensive unit. Despite Macallan's flushed cheeks and the thin layer of sweat glistening on her tan arms, the Dutch braid I'd done for her in the locker room remained intact. She'd played the entire game, and got her first ever hat-trick.

"Win or lose, a hat-trick is still a hat-trick," I told her as we ceremoniously brought the shafts of our lacrosse sticks together.

"I know," Macallan's blue eyes crinkled as she gave the tiniest smile. "Thank you, Chan."

I managed to return a smile before casting my gaze over to the bleachers, bathed in the golden evening sunlight. Per usual, Dad sat alongside the Blakes, Jackmans, and the recently incorporated parents of Gianna Lash. And while that was almost always enough for me, today it wasn't.