The Halo Effect

19 | grenade

BostonSpilledTea.com

THE CANNONDALE SCHOOL - MESSAGE BOARD

NEW THREAD, 3:45 PM: that quiz was brutal, but do we seriously feel bad for them?

[comments]

it was wicked accurate so we shouldn't need to feel bad if it's the truth

the girls varsity lacrosse team is part of cannondale's most successful athletic program, they don't deserve the hate

i wonder if the team is blaming MB for starting this by punching out GK at Winter Formal

join GWT if you don't want to be brainwashed in WAC by KJ and CE

WAC is whack! bros before hoes

^ careful. some guys go to both

whoever made the quiz should stop while they're ahead, the school is out for blood

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I couldn't pretend the whispers hadn't reached my corner of the library this evening concerning the latest thread on the message board, but I could pretend to ignore them. Studying with Trip for our upcoming AP Gov exam was the perfect distraction, and I nearly succeeded in pushing it all out of my mind. That was the most I could ask for, given the circumstances.

By the time Trip walked me back to Roosevelt Hall, evening hours were about to start. Kelsey was still at the library, tutoring a freshman as part of her esteemed gig in the Spanish Honors Society.

With the lacrosse season underway, my day-to-day routine had changed significantly, and the same went for most spring athletes. I held myself to a rigid schedule to ensure that I still had sufficient time for my academics and additional school obligations. Kelsey and I had rescheduled WAC meeting for Wednesday mornings, and I spent most evenings in the library studying.

Macallan was on her top bunk bed when I returned to our dorm room. For reasons I failed to comprehend, she despised the library and preferred to study in Roosevelt Hall's spacious common room on the first floor. When I'd left for the library earlier, my hair still damp from my post-practice shower, she was about to meet Gianna there.

"So, apparently, Trip wants to study political science at Duke," I sighed out as I set my backpack down on my desk chair. "I think he's too inherently good to be an actual politician, but who knows? He's already got that whole charmingly humble thing going for him."

Macallan made an incoherent sound of agreement, but there was a squeaky sniffle at the end that commandeered my attention. I turned away from the closet and directed my gaze to the top bunk.

"Mac?" I called, my sudden trepidation sending a chill dancing up my spine. "Hey, are you okay?"

My overall lack of optimism served to keep my expression carefully neutral when Macallan maneuvered herself around to face me, tears trickling down her cheeks. She went to respond, but all that came out was a mangled sob. She shook her head, tears still falling.

A horrifying thought seared through my brain: she and Jameson had broken up. I'd never seriously considered that scenario before. Macallan and Jameson had become a constant - like the sun rising in the east every morning.

"I'm okay. I just can't stop crying," Macallan finally croaked out, climbing down the ladder and sinking into her desk chair. She had a green stuffed dinosaur tucked under one arm that I knew to be named Roger.

"Take all the time you need," I said, moving my backpack onto the floor and pulling my own desk chair over to sit in front of her.

She nodded, sniffling as she inhaled a shaky breath. After an equally shaky exhale, she looked up at me. "My period is late," she whispered, clutching Roger closer to her chest. "Like five days late."