Chapter 5: Going Home

After PE class, it was time for the afternoon meal. Students who had just finished class were heading to the cafeteria one after another. Thomas Reed carried her tray of food, spotted Grace Carter and a few others sitting over there eating and laughing, and changed direction to walk over.

“Did you take Henry Clark’s clothes?”

When Grace Carter saw it was her, her face immediately fell. “Her uniform is missing, what’s that got to do with me?”

Thomas Reed: “I only said her clothes were missing, and you immediately said ‘uniform.’ You really are something.”

Grace Carter was at a loss for words, then retorted shamelessly, “Anyway, I don’t know. If you’ve got the guts, go search and see if I took it.” With that, she ignored her and turned to talk to someone else.

Thomas Reed let out a snort, carried her tray away, and left. She had only asked casually, not intending to play the hero and help Henry Clark get justice. If Henry Clark wanted justice, she should be able to get it herself—no need for her to meddle.

But she really couldn’t stand that little fool Grace Carter.

After eating, she returned to the dorm. Thomas Reed saw Henry Clark holding a basin, washing her jacket that had milk tea stains on it. They had two sets of uniforms to rotate. Henry Clark had already changed into her other uniform jacket. When she saw her, Henry Clark paused and said, “I took off your uniform. Do you want me to wash it for you?”

Thomas Reed: “No need.”

Henry Clark nodded and continued soaping the stains, scrubbing skillfully and carefully.

Thomas Reed held back and held back, but couldn’t help asking, “Where did you find your uniform?”

Henry Clark: “The big trash bin near the restroom.”

Thomas Reed: …

Honestly, she had really thought it was that idiot Grace Carter who took it and hid it, maybe even stuffed it in her box. Now it seemed—was her own IQ actually about the same as hers?

Thomas Reed’s face darkened.

Henry Clark glanced at her expression, seemed to understand something, and explained further: “There were too many milk tea stains. I didn’t finish washing it at the time. If someone took it, they definitely wouldn’t keep it because it was dirty, so they probably just tossed it.” She had thought of this at the time, searched around the bushes and trash bins nearby, and sure enough, found it.

Luckily, there had just been a cleaning, so the big trash bin only had some dust and leaves. The uniform wasn’t much dirtier for being thrown in there.

Thomas Reed: Why are you so skilled at this?

She subconsciously wondered, had Henry Clark often encountered things like this before? Was that why she was so calm, as if she didn’t even realize she was being excluded or pranked, and didn’t care?

Thomas Reed’s mood suddenly soured. If it were her, she wouldn’t be so calm. She’d make a scene—whoever took her things, she’d get to the bottom of it. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t get by at her last school. Because she found her lost phone in the desk of a classmate who was very popular, she was ostracized by that clique.

There’s no right or wrong, only closeness or distance. So real, so ironic.

During evening self-study, Sarah Cooper came over and said to her, “Grace Carter really didn’t take Henry Clark’s uniform. She saw someone else take it and throw it away, but because she has issues with you guys, she didn’t say anything.”

Thomas Reed was puzzled: “Why are you telling me this? It’s not like I lost the uniform. When Henry Clark comes back, you can tell her yourselves.”

Every night at this time, Henry Clark was still in the classroom studying, only coming back right before lights out.

As soon as she finished speaking, Grace Carter stormed in from outside, saying sarcastically, “It’s not even your uniform that’s missing, so why are you coming to ask me? You think you’re some kind of knight in shining armor? Don’t flatter yourself.”

Suddenly, Thomas Reed kicked the desk hard, glaring at her coldly: “Say that again, I dare you.”

Both Grace Carter and Sarah Cooper were startled by the loud noise. Grace Carter’s bravado instantly faded, her eyes reddened as if she was about to cry, and Sarah Cooper hurriedly and awkwardly pushed her out.

After that, no one brought it up again, not even Henry Clark. The only thing that changed was that her clean uniform now had a milk tea stain that couldn’t be washed out.

The only real change was that Henry Clark started giving her practice problems more often. Thomas Reed was worst at math, and Henry Clark would always push a notebook over, telling her the hints and the first few steps.

Thomas Reed would glance at it and push the notebook back stiffly: “I don’t want it.”

She heard the sound of Henry Clark writing beside her pause, start again, then pause, like someone hesitating and pacing back and forth. After a long while, the writing finally became steady again. Then she saw a new notebook pushed over—this time, it had not only the solution process but also the answer.

Thomas Reed bristled. Do you think I just want your answers? What about your principles? Weren’t you the one who said not to let people copy your work?

“I don’t want it.”

Henry Clark just took the notebook back. Her writing slowed down, like the heavy footsteps of someone leaving.

Thomas Reed turned to glance at her, saw her uniform, and couldn’t help but frown. These days, she kept inexplicably noticing that uniform. Maybe it wasn’t the uniform she cared about, but the reason why Henry Clark kept wearing it in such hot weather. After learning that ridiculous reason, it was hard not to care.

It was raining again. So annoying.