"Ghania, pigeon soup..." Emilia Sullivan called out to her as she started to head upstairs, too absorbed to continue arguing with Jeff Quinlan.
"I don’t want any."
Ghania Quinlan’s face lacked color, and her lips were pale as she hurried upstairs.
*
Upstairs, Ghania Quinlan entered her room, closed the door, tossed her bag onto the bed, and restlessly pulled up a chair to sit down.
Biting her lip, her heart was in turmoil, unable to settle down.
Almost everyone now believed that Nathalie Quinlan had not gotten into Tsinghua University.
She couldn’t imagine how everyone would react when they saw Nathalie Quinlan’s scores after Tsinghua announced the results!
Her parents were one thing; even hoping that Nathalie failed, they wouldn’t take out their anger on her for Nathalie’s success.
But Ghania was well aware that Ivy Wilmar was not that kind of person.
This ti, Ghania managed to secure a spot at the music conference, partly because Ivy harbored thoughts of revenge against Nathalie. If Ivy found out that Nathalie also got admitted to Tsinghua, and even scored higher than her, Ghania doubted whether Ivy would continue to help her unconditionally...
Distracted, she pulled her phone out of her bag, wanting to call Zayn Fisher and have him ask Zeus Tanzil for the details about Nathalie’s entrance exam.
For instance, why would Zeus say that Nathalie chose the Chinese dicine program if she perford so well?
And which tutor would be ntoring Nathalie in Chinese dicine, and whether she had a minor in another departnt, like Adelle Wafford’s clinical departnt.
She wanted to clear up all these details.
Ghania had written the ssage but hesitated to send it.
She looked down, her eyelashes casting shadows, irritably deleted the text she had typed, and put the phone back on the desk, feeling extrely conflicted.
She was eager to understand the details of Nathalie’s exam, but by asking Zayn Fisher, she’d be revealing that Nathalie indeed passed with a score of 650.
She had previously dined with Zayn Fisher at the Imperial Hotel to celebrate her own admittance to Tsinghua.
She had also casually ntioned to Zayn that Nathalie had failed to get in and would have to slink back to McKinney. Now she was about to send a ssage asking him to inquire after the exact program Nathalie was admitted to. Wouldn’t that be like slapping herself in the face?
The past month had been smooth sailing for Ghania; this was the first ti in over a month that she felt so deeply affected, more troubled than even the music conference issue.
Sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees and her head buried in them, ti passed—so much that Emilia Sullivan ca upstairs once, knocked on her door, and said the pigeon soup was ready, bringing her a bowl. Ghania didn’t look up but simply murmured that she was already asleep and didn’t want any soup.
Until the relentless ringing of her phone.
The anxious girl with her head down finally lifted it, reached for the phone on the desk, and glanced at the caller ID.
Just that glance scattered the irritability and anxiety from Ghania’s face like the wind. Her eyes sparkled as she answered the call.
"Hello."
The person on the other end of the phone did not speak for a while.
Ghania patiently waited, pulled the phone away to see it was still connected, then put it back to her ear, and spoke in an even softer, more amiable voice, "Wenny Taylor, you’re calling so late, is there sothing you need?"
She had a good guess as to why Wenny Taylor was calling, but the call was like a life preserver sent right to her doorstep in her hour of need!
So Ghania had plenty of patience waiting for her to speak!
Sure enough.
After a full two minutes of silence, the person on the phone finally asked tentatively, "Ghania, about what you said this afternoon... Nathalie hitting soone..."
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