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Gordon and Hilda both ignored Maria’s taunts, but she didn’t stop. Her voice cut through the air with sharp disdain.
“You’re all a family of idiots!” Maria spat. “We decided to throw this celebration after we checked Kelly’s scores. You don’t even know if Carlisle got into college, yet here you are, holding a celebration for a student who might not even qualify! Are you trying to make a fool of yourselves?”
Gerard, standing nearby, couldn’t help but sneer at the entire situation. Did they really think they could compete with him? What did they have that could even come close to challenging his success?
Other than Hilda’s looks, which surpassed Maria’s, what else did they have? Gordon was practically useless, and Carlisle—well, he was just like his father. A nobody. Would he ever break out of this cycle?
At that moment, the manager of the Rainville Hotel came over, his tone polite but firm. “Mr. Zahn, the party is about to begin. Please make your way upstairs.”
Gerard straightened his necktie, placing his hands behind his back with the air of someone accustomed to command, and followed the manager inside.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere in front of Sunago Restaurant began to buzz with excitement as more students arrived. Gordon was greeting guests with his usual charm.
“Mr. Moore, I didn’t think you’d be able to make it!” Gordon beamed as he offered a cigarette to the older man standing before him. Fletcher Moore, the head of Helios Village, Gordon’s hometown, took the cigarette with a grunt.
“How did your son do, Gordon?” Fletcher asked casually as he accepted the cigarette.
“Well, Carlisle just left school, so I haven’t had a chance to ask him about his score yet,” Gordon replied. “But he did tell me he got into Riverland University.”
He lit the cigarette for Fletcher, watching as the older man took a slow drag.
“You believe him just like that?” Fletcher asked, his tone skeptical. “That brat wouldn’t lie to you, would he?”
“Mr. Moore, I’m sure you know how hard Carlisle has worked these past few months,” Gordon replied earnestly. “He’s been studying from dawn till dusk.”
Fletcher, unimpressed, waved him off. “Alright, alright,” he said, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. He handed Gordon a crumpled 20-dollar bill.
“Since you’ve invited me, I’ll show you respect as head of the village. Here’s some congratulatory money. Take it, no matter what Carlisle’s scores are.”
Gordon’s smile faltered. He could read between the lines—Fletcher clearly thought he was holding the celebration just to save face. That the entire event was a desperate attempt to avoid embarrassment.
“No need for that, Fletcher,” Gordon said, forcing a smile. “Take it back.”
Hilda, who had been listening in, shoved Fletcher’s hand away. “We don’t want your charity.”
Fletcher, unfazed, smirked. “Well, well, Hilda. Despite everything, you’ve got a temper, don’t you?”
Hilda’s eyes flashed. “Just because we haven’t earned much doesn’t mean we’ll let anyone shame us!” she snapped.
Fletcher scoffed, but before he could argue back, the sound of bikes pulling up caught his attention. Carlisle, Sean, and several of Carlisle’s classmates had arrived.
Carlisle, sensing the tension, parked his bike and approached, his voice steady. “Mom, Dad, what’s going on here?”
He glanced at Fletcher, immediately understanding the source of the friction. Without missing a beat, he handed an envelope to Gordon. “Here’s my score report, Dad.”
Gordon froze. There was something about the envelope that made him uneasy, an instinctive feeling he couldn’t shake. The growing sense of anticipation in the air didn’t help.
More of Carlisle’s classmates arrived, and Fletcher’s unease grew. Could it be that Carlisle had actually done it? Could he have really qualified for college?
With trembling hands, Gordon opened the envelope. He pulled out the score report, his eyes scanning the numbers.
1400 points.
Gordon’s breath caught in his chest, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
Hilda, who had been standing nearby, quickly stepped forward. She peeked over Gordon’s shoulder, her gaze fixed on the score report. Her face drained of color, and she gasped.
Fletcher, watching them, narrowed his eyes. From their expressions, it was clear—Carlisle had really done it. But just how well had he scored?
“Well done, my son,” Gordon finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion.
Hilda’s eyes welled up. Tears streamed down her face as she rushed forward to embrace Carlisle. “You did it, Carlisle! You really did it!” she exclaimed.
Carlisle smiled softly, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. He had scored 1400 points—against all odds. This was his victory.
