The Halo Effect

18 | smoke and mirrors

There was beauty in compartmentalizing.

Despite the now-notorious quiz becoming the black hole for Cannondale gossip during the last week of school, I'd protected myself with a steely fortress of resolve. I wouldn't let it derail me. Absolutely not. This was just shit that I needed to box up and slap a pretty red bow on for future me to deal with later.

Dad had just dropped off me, Macallan, and Gianna for us to check-in to a DIII lacrosse showcase. It conveniently took place at a large athletic complex in an uppity Boston suburb, sparing us from waking up morbidly early or staying in an overpriced hotel room.

The instant we stepped through the glass sliding doors of the athletic complex, I confronted the familiar smell of rubber and sweat. Our sneakers squeaked on the linoleum flooring as we made our way through the lobby, slipping into a stream of other lacrosse players.

"Why do I feel like people are looking at us?" Gianna asked as we joined one of  the lines to check in.

"Because people are looking at us," I informed her as I intercepted some of the glances shot our way with daggers in my eyes.

New England was a small pond, and elite lacrosse showcases made that pond even smaller. Besides, we were still in Boston. I'd fully anticipated coming face-to-face with players from other private schools in Massachusetts, and knew that my reputation preceded me - especially at showcases.

"I bet half of the girls here know about the quiz," Macallan murmured as she attempted to wrangle her blonde hair into a top knot bun. She'd run out of time to blow-dry it this morning and was quietly brooding over the still-damp waves. "Even the message boards for other schools like Silvermine are talking about it."

"This never should've happened," Gianna blurted out, shaking her head. "It's so cowardly and pathetic."

"Which is why someone posted the link to the quiz on the message board," Macallan explained, dropping her hair. "Everything is anonymous, so there's no way to know who created or posted it."

"Unless someone owns up or snitches," I said, even though I sincerely doubted that this would be the case. But if there was someone who needed to harness optimism regarding this whole horrid situation, it was Macallan Blake.

"At least we have Headmistress Harvey on our side," Gianna sighed out before stepping up to the check-in table.

Macallan and I shared a dubious look.

Headmistress Harvey had immediately made a statement condemning the quiz and warned of severe consequences for anyone directly involved. So, on the surface, Cannondale's impressive reaction time seemed to demonstrate the school's commitment to protecting the wellbeing of their students, but we both knew better. Scandals like this were detrimental to the school's prestige. That was what they wanted to protect at all costs.

The soft vibration of my phone from inside the pocket of my Cannondale lacrosse jacket acquired my attention as Macallan approached the check-in table. I slipped out the device, my heart already asking me too many questions.  

TRIP MCKENNA, 8:32 AM: don't forget to think of me when you hit that upper left corner 

I automatically smiled as memories from that afternoon we'd spent practicing at the stadium surfaced to the forefront of my mind. I selected the heart reaction for the message, but settled on a coy response.

CHANDER ENGLAND, 8:33 AM: that only applies to *real* games

I was still smiling a little when I arrived at the check-in table after Macallan.