Almost instinctively, she grabbed Henry Webb's arm.

The boy reflexively steadied her, his tone cold and sharp: "What are you doing? I didn't even do anything to you."

It took Brian Clark a few seconds for her vision to gradually clear up again.

Her face looked pale, her gaze weak and a bit dazed as she glanced at Henry Webb. He frowned deeply: "Are you sick?"

No matter how you heard it, it sounded like an insult.

Brian Clark really wanted to explain that she wasn't feeling well, that she was on her period, but of course she couldn't say that out loud. But right now, it wasn't a matter of whether she should say it or not—suddenly, a surge of nausea rushed up from her stomach straight to her throat.

The next second, she threw up on Henry Webb.

Brian Clark's mind exploded with a bang. This time, she was sure Henry Webb was definitely going to hit her.

Sure enough, Henry Webb's expression turned ugly. He kept a cold face, took off his jacket, revealing the white T-shirt underneath.

"Classmate, please wash this and return it to me."

The boy stuffed the sour-smelling jacket into Brian Clark's arms. Brian Clark was on the verge of tears; she didn't even dare look Henry Webb in the eye, utterly mortified, her brain running on autopilot as her mouth spoke:

"I'm really sorry, I didn't know..."

"Apologizing won't help. Just remember to wash my jacket." Henry Webb had no interest in her feeble excuses. He glanced at her, pointed, "The infirmary is that way."

He had absolutely no intention of taking her there. After speaking, the boy walked off toward the big sports field outside the school.

The cicadas were deafening, making everyone's ears ring. Brian Clark stood frozen in place for a moment, clutching the boy's soiled jacket.

Chapter 4 Only a few minutes later, Grace Bolton came over, looking around as she walked...

It was only a few minutes before Grace Bolton came over, glancing around as she walked.

When Brian Clark saw her, she felt even more embarrassed. The key thing was, she was still holding a boy's jacket in her arms, and the smell was far from pleasant. As Grace Bolton approached, Brian Clark automatically took a few steps back to put some distance between them.

Sometimes, it's hard to refuse someone's kindness. Brian Clark always felt especially passive when facing someone like Grace Bolton. She didn't want to explain her own awkwardness, but she had to say a little something.

Going to the infirmary, buying sanitary pads, and being escorted back to the dorm—after this whole process, Brian Clark said thank you many times. Grace Bolton just naturally patted her smooth, long hair, smiling:

"We're classmates, why are you always so polite?"

Her gesture was just like talking to her own little sister.

Normally, Brian Clark didn't like others sitting on her bed, and she would never casually sit on someone else's. She understood the principle of "do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself."

But Grace Bolton had been running around under the blazing sun, her face even redder from the heat. When inviting her to sit, Brian Clark quietly removed an old yellow towel from the edge of her bed.

When she put it there that day, she had guiltily told Jason Walker, "Washing the sheets is a hassle, so if I put something down, I won't have to wash them as often." The other roommates were all busy tidying up their own things and didn't really pay attention to what Brian Clark was saying.

But Jason Walker had no sense of subtlety and blurted out, "Are you afraid of people sitting on your bed?"

Brian Clark wanted to die from embarrassment. Blushing, she hurriedly and guiltily denied it over and over.

But, by accident, someone half-jokingly chimed in, saying they also didn't like others sitting on their bed, and praised Brian Clark's method as a good idea worth copying.

Brian Clark envied how others could so easily express their true feelings, without any awkwardness, and could go with the flow so naturally and seamlessly. That was something Brian Clark could never learn.

Right now, she was afraid Grace Bolton would overthink it, especially since the other girl had just helped her so enthusiastically.

Grace Bolton seemed not to notice at all. She sat down naturally and found a topic: "Hey, Brian Clark, I saw you nearly got a perfect score in Chinese on the high school entrance exam. Your Chinese grades have always been great, right? Are you interested in doing a small research project with me?"

Brian Clark's middle school was average in the city. Each year, about seventy or eighty students would be sent to Meizhong through regular and targeted admissions. Targeted admissions were quotas given to each middle school, with scores twenty or thirty points lower than regular admissions. Brian Clark was a bit unbalanced in her subjects, so both she and Jason Walker got in through targeted admissions—pretty lucky. So, in the academic powerhouse that was Meizhong, she had no real competitiveness.

Excelling in just Chinese didn't mean much.

Grace Bolton, on the other hand, had gotten in from the best middle school in the city, and her Chinese score was actually only two points lower than Brian Clark's.

The two of them chatted for a while. Grace Bolton was very quick-witted and spoke fast. But Brian Clark was well aware of the gap between herself and the top students from the best middle schools. Grace Bolton's Chinese was also excellent, but all her subjects were strong. Her good grades came from being well-rounded, totally different from Brian Clark, who only excelled at and liked Chinese.

"Oh, look at me, just chatting away with you. If the instructor sees me, he'll think I'm slacking off. I have to go, let's talk later." Grace Bolton suddenly patted her forehead and smiled at Brian Clark.

Soon, Brian Clark was the only one left in the dorm. She sprawled on her blanket for a nap, then suddenly jolted awake, hurriedly soaked the dirty jacket in some hot water, and secretly pushed it under the bed.