A/N: Hey guys! The summary will not let me write enough, so I'm gonna give you the rundown before we get started. This story is rated T, closer to M but not explicit enough. I'd say suitable for 15+. I'm giving a warning for pretty major profanity, and frequent mentions of subjects such as murder, rape, suicide, self harm, sex, and drug abuse. This story is also very LGBT friendly (with bisexual and transgender main characters), and while I do not believe this influences the rating, I want to put it plainly out there for anyone who may find it uncomfortable.

This was also based off of an idea of mine about a modern gender-bent AU set at a private school that I had several years ago, but came back to the forefront when I read A Study In Charlotte by Brittany Cavallaro earlier this year. (Amazing book, by the way, definitely check it out and its sequel, The Last of August.) I hope you guys enjoy! - Ell

The Maiwand Preparatory School was admittedly not my favorite place in the world, albeit having a world-class biology program. Of course I was serious about becoming a doctor, but I was 16 years old, for God's sake. I was introverted enough, but anywhere where kids were suspended for the elsewhere routine whispers during class was a little too uptight for me. Every day for the past month, I had eyed the stack of pamphlets for the Musgrave Academy at the entrance to the South Hall. It had a prestigious medical program, and was 100 miles away from Buffalo - much further from home than I was now. See, my parents were urging me to put myself further out in the world. Doctors should be fiercely independent, they said. The issue was the cost of tuition. Only children of senators and CEOs could afford to attend, and scholarships were few and far between.

"Did you hear that Miles Lorde and Angela Perry hooked up Saturday night?" I heard a whisper from three lockers down. "My brother's in Miles' grade, and he told me he told her every muscle he was using while he was on top of her."

The girl's friend made a tsking noise. "Well I heard that she called out the names of the muscles twitching inside of her."

The first girl immediately shot back, "Well I heard that she called 'Carl Linnaeus' at the end."

I had to physically bite my lip to keep from laughing as I shoved my anatomy book into my backpack and headed down the hall.

Ellis Murray, my roommate of two years, master of cheating on exams, sprinted up to me. "Jackie! Did you or did you not hear about that brilliant dissection 1st period?"

I sighed. "No, Ellis, I did not. I don't care to, either."

Ellis rammed my shoulder lightly as we walked through the courtyard to reach the South Hall. "What is up with you this week? You're chickening out all of a sudden."

"I am not!" We pushed open the huge double doors to get into the hall. "I had a virus last weekend, I'm still queasy."

Ellis snorted. "Whatever you say, man. You didn't look ill at the bar Friday night."

"I didn't drink anything, did I?"

"You never drink anything! Christ, Watson, you're such a lightweight."

"Just because you've never seen me drink doesn't mean I'm a lightweight. I'll bet I hold my booze much better than you."

"Listen dude, I'm sure as hell gonna hold you to that someday, but right now I'm just worried about you. What the heck's goin' on up there?" She flicked my upper temple playfully, and I flinched away from her.

"Listen, Ellis, don't you ever just hate this school? It's like prison without all the piss in the courtyard," My eyes subconsciously drifted to the Musgrave Academy table.

Ellis tracked my gaze. "I'd personally remove and sell my own kidney to go there," she muttered, hunger in her eyes. "My brother Al's friend went to one of their parties, like five years ago…" she shook her head in awe before snapping her head back towards me. "And the students! You know that's where Violet Holmes goes?"

I knitted my eyebrows together as I removed my water bottle from the side of my backpack. "Who?"

"Violet Holmes! She's a genius! I'm sure she'd be on a full ride to Yale by now if she hadn't been kicked out of ten high schools her freshman year."

I almost choked on my water. "Ten? How the hell does a 14 year old get kicked out of ten schools in one year?"

"That girl has some kind of a reputation. Fuck, you sure you've never heard of her blog?"

"I'm sure," I assured her. "If she's such a deity to you, why don't you tell me?"

Ellis lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Okay, so she's, like, wicked smart, right?"

"You mentioned."

"And she's got this morbid crime fixation. She's helped out statewide police with, like, a shitton of cases. Under wraps, of course. But she runs this blog like an online advice column? People send her questions and communicate with her about their missing husbands or whatever. And she tracks him down and solves the case without personally investigating! Like, she'll just ask them questions about it, then tell them what happened! And people pay her for it!"

"Wow," I said, impressed, but unsure how else to respond.

Ellis shook her head. "Anyway. I'm halfway tempted to apply for the scholarship."

I straightened instantly, my heart skipping a beat. "What scholarship? Murray, why the fuck didn't you tell me there was a scholarship? Why didn't I know there was a scholarship?"

My roommate's mouth fell open in a small o. "Shit Jackie, I assumed you'd know! It's called the Maiwand scholarship, they just introduced it. It requires a personal essay, and one student from Maiwand will receive a full scholarship to their pre med program."

Without another word, I lunged to grab a flyer from the table. "I'm taking my study hall in the library. Tell Mr. Elsworth I'm not ditching on my life. See you at lunch!"

An hour later, I'd concluded that the personal essay needed to be ten pages on planning out my career in medicine, and was due in a week. This only took me 15 minutes. The next 30 were spent with my head in my arms, staring bleakly at the top of the table. You know, one of those minimalist abstract ones that wasn't plastic and wasn't stone, but had a cool, smooth surface? The blue ones with the colored flecks like a Pollock painting that you see at public libraries? I looked straight at each dot and told it personally how hopeless my situation was.

Watsons were storytellers. I, in particular, I was told, had genes that tapped directly into the family's creative vein. Creative being the key word. I'd won enough grade and middle school story contests to have a whole wall of certificates and trophies.

The problem was, I couldn't write essays to save my life. History was fine, if I had a specific topic. The information was all right there. But a personal, nonfiction essay, about an abstract concept in the future? One that I hadn't even really considered myself? I might as well just consign myself to spend the final year of high school in this middle class dictatorial hellhole.

My wallowing left me with 15 extra minutes left in study hall, after I concluded that I wouldn't be a Watson if I didn't at least try. I fished my essay binder out of my bag and cracked it open, filling the air in front of me with a cloud of gathered dust particles. How heartening. The last partially inked page was from three months ago, in January. It was an essay assignment I'd opted out of in favor of an advanced dissection. I didn't exactly think that was an option here.

I wrote Scholarship Essay at the top of the page, in the straightest handwriting I could muster. Then I felt my chest tighten with anxiety. What was my plan? I'd graduate, go to a full medical school, do my residency...and then what? What would my specialties be? I had no plan whatsoever. But goddammit, I would bullshit one to the best of my ability if it got me out of here.

The week rushed by in a series of late nights, liters of coffee, and forays into an incredibly dogeared thesaurus. Finally, the Sunday night before the submission deadline, Ellis rested her chin on my shoulder wistfully as I carefully typed up my essay.

I narrowed my eyes in consideration as I put the finishing touches on the document. "Do you think it matters that the tenth page only has four lines of essay?" I asked.

"Hmmmm…" Ellis thought for a moment before responding. "I think the whole ten pages thing is arbitrary. It really is quality over quantity, they just didn't want to seem too easy."

"Oh my God I hope so," I replied with a groan, running the pages through one more spellcheck before closing my eyes and hitting send before I could overthink it too much.

"You gonna tell your folks?" Ellis asked, her Virginia accent showing through in her curiosity.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "It's not something you can keep a secret forever. Especially not if you get in."

"You should call them tonight," Ellis singsonged, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I picked up my binder and slapped her across the shoulder with it. "You just want to hear her call me muffin."

"I always said your eyes look like roasted pistachios."

"Shut up!" I pushed her playfully as I dialed my phone, and Ellis rolled onto the floor between our beds with a giggle. "Just for that I'm not putting it on speaker."

"Thank you for sparing my auris fossas."

"Jacqueline, sweetheart, how are you!" Crooned my mother after a mere ring and a half.

I grimaced and fumbled to turn my phone's volume down a few notches. As if that would help. "Hey mom! Yeah, yeah I'm good. Yes, I'm studying for finals. No, I haven't been to any parties. Listen, you know how we discuss a few times a year how great the program at Musgrave would look on my applications, but how we could only afford it if we struck oil in the backyard?"

My mother's voice was stern. "Now Jacqueline, you know it's a moot point! You cannot go to that school. End of discussion."

"There's a scholarship!" I blurted before she put down the phone for a moment and mock hung up.

"What scholarship? Here now, are you pulling my leg?"

"No! I'm not! I just found out about it this week! I'd have called sooner, but I was so busy cramming for it. I wrote the essay and I just sent it in and I think -" But saying anything else would have been a moot point, to quote my mother's favorite phrase. She was already shrieking into our home phone's vintage mouthpiece.

"Jacqueline! Oh my God what a surprise!" My tiny smartphone speakers emitted a series of feedback riddled screeches as I jumped at the noise and dropped my phone, making a spectacular series of fumbles before recovering it in time to hear, "how much else will we have to pay?"

I stammered a few syllables to try and explain, but I was cut off once again. "Because if it's not a full ride, you know we can't manage those kinds of debts. Especially not with your post high school education - and we're expecting scholarships for that, too! Otherwise, do you know what that makes this?"

"Mom, just -"

"Do you know what it is, Jacqueline." Her voice was icy and stern.

I sighed and massaged my temple. "A moot point?"

"Yes, darling. Now do tell me; how much is this scholarship?"

"I've been trying to explain, mom. It's a full ride."

I winced and held the phone out at arm's length as my mother screamed again. "Harry! Harry, come in here! Jacqueline, I'm putting you on speaker, muffin."

I tried to groan as softly as I could without being heard. This conversation was not going as quickly as I'd hoped.

Ellis, not getting my subtle hints that I'd prefer softer noises of annoyance and hilarity in the background, guffawed loudly.

My mother returned to the phone with my father in tow. She, unfortunately, had heard everything. "Oh, is that Ellis I hear? Put it on speaker, muffin!"

This was going to be a long night.