The Halo Effect

14 | play to win

On the first day of sixth grade, Macallan said if she could have any superpower, she would want it to be invisibility. I remembered giggling when she'd explained that being invisible would help her cut the lines at the ski lift.

That memory had always brought a wistful smile to my lips until lunch at the dining hall today when Macallan had muttered that she wished she was invisible. I would've loved it if she simply wanted to dodge the crowds when she went to Mount Snow with her family for the upcoming long weekend, but I knew this had nothing to do with skiing. We weren't those little girls discussing superpowers anymore. 

The remainder of the school day seemed to drag on endlessly, and Macallan's words echoed in my head. While I hadn't expected her to bounce back immediately, I hated seeing her so low. I also hated feeling like there was something more that I could be doing to help her.

Natural light flooded the first level of the library. The building was consistently busy following the final bell; everyone here was angling to secure a collaborative table for casual studying with friends or lock down a cubicle beside a window. I walked alongside the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, deliberately avoiding the congestion within the middle of the room. I really wasn't in the mood to be slammed into by a fifty-pound backpack that someone carelessly yanked off their shoulders.

Even though it was only Tuesday, I needed to start chipping away at my assigned textbook problems for AP Calculus. I'd always been an excellent math student, but that class took up most of my time and energy. I was also almost always one of the last students in the room for exams and quizzes, needing every last minute to check my calculations. It was also why completing the entirety of the math section was my nemesis on the ACT. My plan for the April exam was to strategically select which problems to complete to maximize my score. Me and my pride needed that 30.

I was about to start up the main staircase when I spotted a familiar ratty peacoat draped over a chair at the end of one of the rows of iMacs. The jacket's owner stood brooding at a nearby printer.

I paused at the base of the staircase, my hand resting on the smooth wooden railing. 

Unlike the upper levels that required silence, the first level permitted chatter that supposedly fostered a collaborative learning environment. It also made it the perfect arena for a confrontation at a controlled volume.

I course-corrected. 

Win groaned as he saw me approaching.

"I don't have time to be ambushed," he said, sliding some sort of rubric into the interior pocket of his binder and flipping it closed. The crossword puzzle clipped to the front momentarily caught my eye. "I'm already late to Model UN."

I arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think that I'm ambushing you?"

"You have no other reason to be talking to me."

"That's not true."

Win wasn't paying attention to me any longer.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, slapping the side of the printer. I glanced around, half-expecting a librarian to tackle him. For whatever reason, they treated the printers like national treasures. "Why is this taking forever? It's just two damn pieces of paper."

"Printers can smell fear," I quipped before I could think better of it. I drummed my fingertips against the black surface. "You can't let them know you're running late. Otherwise, you're screwed."

Win looked up distractedly from the printer, his features momentarily construed with bewilderment. He stared at me for a beat before shaking his head. "You're almost funny when you're not acting completely self-absorbed."