He is sitting there, head cradled in his hands, back pressed against the cold grey walls of St. Jude's when Jenny exits the building. She'd been looking for Dan, trying to find him before the crowds of people got too thick around lunch, when everyone intermingled and she was painfully reminded just how invisible she really was. Jenny frowns, not knowing whether she should bother him or not-- he looks entirely in his own world, and an unhappy one at that-- but her instinct to protect and comfort overrides any fear of being pushed away, and she quietly steps up to him, resting her bag's handle in the crook of her arm to free up her hands, which twist nervously.
"Nate," she murmurs, "are you alright?" He isn't, she knows that. No one who's alright sits quiet as a mouse hidden away from everyone for possibly the entire school day. She doesn't, of course, know how long he's been out here, but she knows he didn't just settle in. His body is practically one with the ground now, splayed out and cold. He's shivering, the slightest bit, his classic beige trench not doing much to override the emotional cold he's facing, apparently.
"Dartmouth," he croaks out, "requires no less than a 680 mathematics score." Jenny blinks. It takes her a moment, but the numbers and the name and the phrases click into place almost like magic. SATs, she thinks sadly. "How.. how bad was it?"
Nate doesn't look up, doesn't move; it's almost as if his mouth doesn't even open when he speaks. She'd think he was a ventriloquist if she didn't know better. "675. And I studied."
She bites back a scoff-- Dartmouth would have to be crazy to pass up Nate Archibald, with his brains and his athleticism and his name (because of course that still means something, of course the family still means something, even if it is the 21st century, even if it's not supposed to). But Jenny knows that won't help, telling him what he can't (right now, anyway) believe. Maybe he doesn't want to believe it. Maybe, she thinks with a twinge of pride, he wants in on his own merits. Not just his name.
And even though she thinks he's being a little bit melodramatic (when is Nate not moping, she'd like to know-- she's very rarely seen him truly happy), Jenny sinks down beside him, errands forgotten, invisibility forgotten, and wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a tight hug.
She doesn't say anything (words of comfort are trite, shallow, meaningless), but she just smiles when he gives her an odd look. Everything will be alright, her smile seems to radiate, and it seeps into his bones the tiniest bit and his body relaxes, just barely.
"I guess I can take it again," he finally relents. "I won't be able to do Early Admission, but." He is cut off by a soft, stern look from Jenny. "But I can take it again."