The Halo Effect

06 | women transform the world

Admitting that I had feelings for Trip McKenna would solve nothing other than maybe offer an explanation for why my heart skipped a beat when I saw him standing at the end of the hallway. Trip was messing with my head without even breaking a sweat. All it took was one smile, and I might as well drop dead.

"I'll be wearing a tie at formal, you know," Trip said, holding the door open for me as we exited the humanities building. He had AP Lit the same time that I had AP Lang, and we'd fallen into an unspoken habit of waiting for each other after the end of the fourth period for the lunch break.

"What color?" I asked, stealing a glance back at him as we marched down the front stairs. A few rogue curls flopped over his forehead, and his features were soft even in the harsh winter sunlight. "Matching your date's dress is always a classy move."

"Then I should probably figure out what color my date's dress is."

I forced an impassive expression, stopping to lean against the pillar beside the base of the steps. "You'd have to ask her."

"Good call," Trip nodded, retrieving his phone from the front pocket of his dark-wash Levi's. When his thumbs started tapping against the screen, my breath caught in my throat. Just as my thoughts began to reel, my phone vibrated in my parka's pocket.

I held Trip's gaze for a prolonged moment before retrieving my phone. The notification at the top caught me off guard in the best way. 

TRIP MCKENNA, 11:22 AM: what color is your dress?

I glanced back up at Trip, and he quirked a brilliant, self-satisfied smile. Again, I might as well drop dead.

All juniors and seniors at Cannondale could attend the school's dances, with sophomores needing to receive an invitation. Last year, I went to both Winter Formal and Prom with Henry. We were dating, so there was absolutely no question that I would be his date. The same couldn't be said for Trip and I.

Given that gossip traveled at the speed of light at Cannondale, it wasn't at all shocking that everyone kept tabs on who was going with who to Winter Formal. Trip and I were seen as giant question marks at the moment, though everyone just assumed that we both were keeping our cards close to our vests. The only question mark I cared about was what dress I'd be wearing. It wasn't like I could wear the same one as last year.

"I'm still making up my mind." I secured a lock of hair behind my left ear, careful not to let it catch in my gold cartilage hoop. "I'll know by Sunday, though."

"For our brunch rendezvous."

"Or we can just stay at the dining hall." The words were out of my mouth before I could draw up any contingency plans. Chance wasn't a game I liked to play, but Trip had become an exception to the rule. A part of me almost wished he hadn't.

It was pure bad luck that, immediately after I suggested we essentially broadcast our relationship to the Cannondale student body, someone interrupted us.

"McKenna!"

Trip's last name roared from behind us like some archaic Viking war cry, and I didn't need to turn around to figure out whose voice it was. I folded my arms over my chest and clenched my jaw, fed up with the fact that I really couldn't escape Grayson Kirby.

"That reading quiz fucking sucked," Grayson declared, arriving beside Trip at the bottom of the front steps. He acknowledged my presence by flashing me a smirk. "King Lear is overrated."

Trip cleared his throat, brown eyes sharpening as he shifted his weight beside me. "Did you do the reading?"

"Skimmed and hit up CliffsNotes," Grayson shrugged as though this was his standard approach to homework. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if it was.