His palm was warm and dry, covering her eyes, and Nathalie Quinlan felt nothing but darkness before her.
There was an indescribable feeling in her heart, as if a feather had lightly brushed against her chest.
Before she could grasp that sensation, Amadeus Yancey had already removed his hand, leading the child by his side, with an air of leisurely dignity: "Let’s go, we’ll leave first and let her rest properly."
"Okay." Although Edric Yancey was reluctant to leave just like that, thinking of Nathalie Quinlan’s fatigue, he obediently followed Amadeus Yancey out.
Nathalie Quinlan watched them until they reached the door, and just as the door was about to close, he seed to suddenly rember sothing and asked casually, "By the way, why didn’t you tell you have dical skills?"
This question, Nathalie Quinlan had already thought of an answer before coming out of the operating room, so she was not at all flustered, lifting her eyelids, her dark eyes steady and bright: "You never asked ."
"..."
Amadeus Yancey raised an eyebrow and smiled, curving the corners of his mouth.
Tsk, this reply was bold and irrefutable, just her style.
He didn’t pursue the matter further, casually letting it go, pulling the door shut, his voice enticing, "Good night."
*
Nathalie Quinlan thought that changing places might cause her sleeplessness.
Unexpectedly, she slept naturally until she woke up, and when she got up with a groggy head, it was already past ten in the morning the next day.
The first class this morning was Nancy Sullivan’s.
Nathalie Quinlan supported herself up with her hands, pressing her sleep-laden forehead, got out of bed, and discovered that a neatly folded set of new clothes had been placed beside her bed at so point, and her schoolbag was also beside it.
There was also a note with writing on it.
Nathalie Quinlan picked up the note and looked down to see a row of flamboyant penmanship—[I called in sick for you at school, take a shower and rest when you wake up.]
The handwriting seed disciplined, yet each character carried a sense of unruly arrogance.
It was unmistakably Amadeus Yancey’s writing.
So he had called in sick for her.
Nathalie Quinlan unconsciously recalled the scene from yesterday when he carried her into the operating room, battling restlessness, put the note down, picked up the clothes from the bed, and headed to the shower room assigned to the ward, taking a shower.
A cold shower refreshed Nathalie Quinlan completely.
She changed into a new set of clothes, looked around and didn’t see Amadeus Yancey or the little guy, didn’t know where the two had gone, so Nathalie Quinlan simply sent him a text ssage and then grabbed her schoolbag and went to school.
...
When she arrived at school, the second major class had just ended, and it was now lunch break.
Nathalie Quinlan entered the classroom with her bag in one hand, and the previously noisy classroom suddenly fell silent as if it had been frozen, in an instant.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked towards her in unison.
What are they doing?
Nathalie Quinlan raised an eyebrow, a hint of mischievousness in her eyes, paused for a second, then quickly continued towards her seat.
She put her schoolbag down.
The classroom, which seed to have been struck by a spell, ca back to life, erupting into a roar of cheers.
"Nathalie Quinlan is here!"
"Nathalie is at school."
"Haha, I thought she wouldn’t co today, didn’t Nancy say Nathalie called in sick?"
"Hehehe, good that she’s here, good that she’s here."
Nathalie Quinlan: ...
Nathalie?
Her pale hand pulled out the chair and sat down, and Jhovany Sullivan imdiately grabbed her hand eagerly as if about to jump down: "Nathalie Quinlan, do you know how much you scored this ti?"
"?"
Nathalie Quinlan pondered for a mont, and aside from the final 40 points for the composition in Chinese that she didn’t write because it was too long, she should have scored 560 across six subjects.
Before she could answer, Jhovany Sullivan, unable to wait, pulled at her sleeve, grinning ear to ear: "560! It’s 560!"
"Nathalie Quinlan, you are the top scorer in the whole school!"
Today the test papers had not been handed out yet, but it was said the teachers graded them overnight following the request of the Class B horoom teacher and had only posted the scores today.
If Jhovany Sullivan knew that the 40 points Nathalie Quinlan was docked was only because she didn’t write the essay, she would be even more astounded.
At this mont, Justin Wafford was also leaning against the wall, holding a basketball, a departure from his scholarly image, wearing a blue Nike headband on his forehead, looking sunny and handso: "Freddy Cagwin also scored 12th place in the whole school. It’s said that Class B’s teacher turned green when they got the school rankings."
"Nathalie Quinlan, you’re impressive. I thought you were joking when you said you’d get the first place; I didn’t expect your grades to be this good."
He was now eagerly anticipating Class B’s apology.
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