The Halo Effect

29 | damsels are depressed

Win Petrov was speaking to Macallan when I marched up to him, but I figured he wasn't interviewing her because he didn't have his phone in his hand. The Cannondale bench had mostly cleared out, and I spotted Kelsey and Gianna heading over to the clique that was our group of parents. Rolling back my shoulders, I harnessed what little remained of my self-control to refrain from interrupting what seemed like a half-serious conversation between the two of them.

"The newspaper is looking to publish candidate profiles for the student government elections next month," Win said, still holding that damn clipboard of his. "It's an invaluable opportunity if you decide to run for the presidency."

"I remember reading Jameson's profile from last year. It was very thoughtful and well-written," Macallan replied, fiddling with the cuff of the stylishly oversized black sweatshirt that she'd pulled on over her jersey. It was part of our team's new apparel collection for the season. "I also remember that you wrote it."

"Is that a yes then?" Win's mouth hinted at what might have been a smile, but he quickly reigned it back in. It was as though he didn't want to come across as overly keen, and he seemed to be getting away with it. He spoke with that smooth self-assuredness and persuasiveness that I imagined a luxury car salesman had. I half expected a Maserati to materialize on the turf field.

"It's more of an I'm still thinking about it," Macallan replied with a little laugh. It was genuine, but still had an edge of apprehension."The truth is, I haven't ever really thought about running. I've been a part of student government since my first year, but I haven't actually run for office. I think I may be better suited for the more administrative roles, and they're obviously less contentious. Besides, I'm prioritizing other things right now, like school and lacrosse." She turned her crystalline eyes on me and grinned. "And making time for this angel."

Win's green eyes slid over to me, his expression unreadable. "Chandler," he acknowledged in a flat yet cordial tone.

Despite having Physics together, Win and I hadn't spoken much in the last few weeks. We weren't lab partners anymore, and we weren't friends. We weren't ever really friends, anyway. The last time that we'd exchanged more than just mindless small talk was at the open-house that Cannondale hosted at the old manor on campus. Win had attempted to justify why the Cannondale Weekly hadn't published anything condemning the survey, and I'd had the grand idea of yanking him into the crosshairs of whatever sort of feud Caroline had instigated with me.

Was it immature and borderline conniving of me? Potentially. But had it irrevocably impacted me, causing me to regret doing it? No, of course not. I would do it again.

"Your junior editor is going to give the newspaper a bad name, Win," I said, looping an arm through one of Macallan's. "Her interview skills are abysmal."

Win lifted a brow that vanished beneath his mop of midnight hair. "Caroline interviewed you?"

"Um, obviously," I huffed out. "But listen, you're wasting your time and resources if you think she's a half-decent journalist."

"That's a bit harsh," Win rebuked with a scoff.

"It shouldn't matter if it's harsh because it's the truth. Caroline intentionally stopped recording during the interview, and asked borderline problematic questions to get under my skin." I paused, and rolled my eyes for good measure. Macallan exhaled a soft sigh, seeming to see through my theatrics. "You'd think she'd want to keep recording, but it's not like anything she's done has made much sense."

"All right, I'll look into it," Win lifted his hands in mock surrender and nearly dropped that damn clipboard in the process. Why did high school journalists even need clipboards? It wasn't as if they were aesthetically pleasing. "I'll look into it, Chandler."