Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

After the scores dropped, I texted my homeroom teacher with my results.
She responded immediately with "OMG CONGRATULATIONS!!!" followed by a GIF of Oprah freaking out, then offered to treat me to Starbucks for a month.
I tried to decline, but she insisted, saying that as the school's highest humanities scorer, she'd be getting serious recognition at the next staff meeting.
She also mentioned I might have the highest humanities SAT score in Minnesota this year.
No one from any of the prep schools had reported anything close to a 1500 yet.
I didn't share any of this with my parents. They seemed to have decided I'd scored around 1100 without bothering to ask.
It had been three hours since scores were released, and they still hadn't asked what my actual score was.
All their energy was laser-focused on Rosalia.
She was ugly-crying about wanting the College Board to recheck her test.
The weather app showed thunderstorms rolling in—typical Minnesota summer—and I had some stuff drying on the building's roof deck.
I grabbed a light rain jacket and headed up to the top floor.
Our apartment building was one of those older brick complexes with a narrow stairwell leading to the roof access. When you pushed through the heavy metal door, you'd find yourself on a flat gravel roof where residents set up lawn chairs and hung laundry on shared clotheslines.
The July night was sticky with that thick pre-storm humidity. As I navigated between someone's sheets flapping in the breeze, I instantly spotted Jax.
He was wearing a black North Face jacket, his tall frame cutting a sharp silhouette against the darkening sky, shoulders broad and straight. He was leaning against the safety railing, with Rosalia standing directly in front of him.
Rosalia was full-on sobbing, her voice doing that baby-talk thing: "Jax, I just... I totally bombed the test... I don't know what happened... hiccup..."
I froze mid-step.
Logically, I should have turned around and left.
But I stood there like some pathetic addict, rooted to the spot, secretly hoping Jax would say something dismissive and crush her.
But of course, he wasn't that kind of guy.
"Hey, it's cool. 1080 is still decent. You can always transfer later," his casual voice carried across the space.
Rosalia sniffled dramatically. "But Jax, this means I won't get to go to UCLA with you."
Jax didn't respond. The sky suddenly released a few warning droplets.
I blinked one away from my eyelashes.
"It's starting to rain," Jax said, then smoothly pulled off his jacket and draped it over Rosalia's head.
Rosalia looked at him like he'd just offered her a kidney. She rose up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Their faces drew closer, lips just a breath apart.
I quickly turned away, hesitated for two seconds, then slipped back through the door.
It absolutely poured that night.
When I dragged myself up to the roof early the next morning, all the potted plants were practically drowning, and my stuffed bunny had soaked up so much water that the clothespin had given up the fight.
It was lying pathetically on the ground, half-buried in mud, looking like roadkill.
I carried the mud-caked bunny back downstairs and spent almost an hour in the bathroom sink trying to resurrect it.
Around nine, I had my backpack ready and was heading out when Rosalia emerged from her room in a tennis-style pleated skirt, her face glowing with that "I've-got-a-date" energy.
Our eyes met, and her smile vanished instantly. "Where are you off to?"
I said flatly, "Tutoring."
Rosalia didn't bother with a response. Instead, she practically skipped into our parents' bedroom. "Mom! Rate my outfit!"
"Oh sweetie, you look absolutely perfect," I heard Mom gush through the half-open door.
Rosalia's voice went up an octave. "Jax bought it for me at the mall yesterday."
I didn't stick around for the rest of the fashion show and quietly slipped out the front door.