Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen - Chapter 38: Chapter 38
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When I got home, Rosalia and Mom were camped out in the living room.
A laptop sat on the coffee table with Rosalia frantically typing in login credentials on the College Board website.
Mom was right beside her, arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Sweetie, try to breathe."
I quietly swapped my sneakers for house slippers and carried my backpack to my room without a word.
Rosalia shouted after me: "Liana! Get your butt out here! Did you check your scores?"
I trudged back out. "Yeah."
Rosalia pressed: "Did you break 1100?"
The "good college" threshold was pretty well-known—most decent schools wanted at least 1100 for humanities majors, 1200 for STEM.
I nodded. "I did."
Mom's eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise on her face. "That's amazing, honey!"
She stood and pulled me into a hug that felt both foreign and nice.
Suddenly Rosalia shrieked: "Mom! It's loading!"
Just like that, she effortlessly yanked Mom's attention back to her orbit.
I lowered my eyes and said nothing.
The College Board website buffered endlessly, the loading circle spinning for what felt like years.
Rosalia dramatically covered the screen with her hand. "Oh my god, I can't look."
Mom immediately pivoted back to comfort mode.
I just stood there, the awkward third wheel as usual.
She milked the suspense for a solid ten minutes, peeling her fingers away one by one like she was disarming a bomb.
When she finally saw her score, all the color drained from her face.
Mom looked equally stunned.
I caught a glimpse of the screen. Total score: 1080.
After seeing it, I retreated to my phone, texting my homeroom teacher about UCLA application deadlines.
Rosalia wailed like she'd been stabbed: "This is literally impossible! There's no way this is my score!"
"Mom! They mixed my test up with some random person's!"
She collapsed into Mom's arms, sobbing like it was the end of the world.
My eardrums couldn't handle the drama, so I started inching back toward my room.
Rosalia's tear-streaked face whipped toward me: "You said you cleared 1100?! For real?"
"For real."
She narrowed her eyes skeptically: "But you've never scored above 1000 on any practice test!"
"Like you said—never before." I tilted my head, asking genuinely, "Aren't you happy for me, Rosalia?"
That stopped her cold.
Mom patted her shoulder with a disapproving look. "Honey, that's not how we talk to your sister."
Then she turned to me with that classic parent pivot: "Your sister's processing some disappointment right now. Don't take anything she says personally, okay?"
"It's fine."
I retreated to my bedroom with forced calmness.
Once safely behind my closed door, I finally took a shaky breath, my throat tight and weird.
It was an emotion I couldn't quite name—somewhere between vindication and heartbreak.
My nose stung and my eyes kept leaking without permission.
I blinked hard, grabbing my phone to scroll mindlessly through Instagram until the feeling passed.
A laptop sat on the coffee table with Rosalia frantically typing in login credentials on the College Board website.
Mom was right beside her, arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Sweetie, try to breathe."
I quietly swapped my sneakers for house slippers and carried my backpack to my room without a word.
Rosalia shouted after me: "Liana! Get your butt out here! Did you check your scores?"
I trudged back out. "Yeah."
Rosalia pressed: "Did you break 1100?"
The "good college" threshold was pretty well-known—most decent schools wanted at least 1100 for humanities majors, 1200 for STEM.
I nodded. "I did."
Mom's eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise on her face. "That's amazing, honey!"
She stood and pulled me into a hug that felt both foreign and nice.
Suddenly Rosalia shrieked: "Mom! It's loading!"
Just like that, she effortlessly yanked Mom's attention back to her orbit.
I lowered my eyes and said nothing.
The College Board website buffered endlessly, the loading circle spinning for what felt like years.
Rosalia dramatically covered the screen with her hand. "Oh my god, I can't look."
Mom immediately pivoted back to comfort mode.
I just stood there, the awkward third wheel as usual.
She milked the suspense for a solid ten minutes, peeling her fingers away one by one like she was disarming a bomb.
When she finally saw her score, all the color drained from her face.
Mom looked equally stunned.
I caught a glimpse of the screen. Total score: 1080.
After seeing it, I retreated to my phone, texting my homeroom teacher about UCLA application deadlines.
Rosalia wailed like she'd been stabbed: "This is literally impossible! There's no way this is my score!"
"Mom! They mixed my test up with some random person's!"
She collapsed into Mom's arms, sobbing like it was the end of the world.
My eardrums couldn't handle the drama, so I started inching back toward my room.
Rosalia's tear-streaked face whipped toward me: "You said you cleared 1100?! For real?"
"For real."
She narrowed her eyes skeptically: "But you've never scored above 1000 on any practice test!"
"Like you said—never before." I tilted my head, asking genuinely, "Aren't you happy for me, Rosalia?"
That stopped her cold.
Mom patted her shoulder with a disapproving look. "Honey, that's not how we talk to your sister."
Then she turned to me with that classic parent pivot: "Your sister's processing some disappointment right now. Don't take anything she says personally, okay?"
"It's fine."
I retreated to my bedroom with forced calmness.
Once safely behind my closed door, I finally took a shaky breath, my throat tight and weird.
It was an emotion I couldn't quite name—somewhere between vindication and heartbreak.
My nose stung and my eyes kept leaking without permission.
I blinked hard, grabbing my phone to scroll mindlessly through Instagram until the feeling passed.
End of Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen Chapter 38. Continue reading Chapter 39 or return to Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen book page.