Dear Mr Brandon,

Thank you for nominating me for the Elinor Sherman Foundation grant for charitable individuals.

Unfortunately I must decline your nomination as my dog has just died.

Dear Mr Brandon,

Thank you for nominating me for the Elinor Sherman Foundation grant for charitable individuals.

Unfortunately I must decline your nomination as I have broken my leg.

Dear Mr Brandon,

Thank you for nominating me for the Elinor Sherman Foundation grant for charitable individuals.

Unfortunately I must decline your nomination as I have become a capitalist and I no longer believe in charity.

I don't know what to say. I never thought Luke would do this. He was supposed to talk about the weather or ask me about our French homework or invite me to the Autumn Treat dance. Not nominate my imaginary aunt for a real-life grant!

In my head I'm frantically composing letters declining the nomination, when Luke suddenly laughs.

"I'm just pulling your leg," he tells me in between chuckles. "I know there is no Aunt Ermintrude."

At first I'm affronted by his audacity. I mean, how dare he question Aunt Ermintrude's existence? She could have been real. And then he would have looked really silly!

But after a breath of sheer relief, I manage to see the funny side of it, and join him in laughing. Our laughter seems to break the ice and from there, we manage to chat easily about shopping, school and even the election campaign.

"Do you think I have a chance of winning this campaign against Alicia?" I ask him boldly.

"Sure," he says without hesitation. "You've got some excellent ideas, a great campaign team and let's face it, Alicia's made a lot of enemies at Oxshott Prep."

He pauses. "You'll have my vote, anyway."

I feel a warm blush spread over my cheeks. He's not reciting poetry or asking me out on a date but somehow that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me.

Our conversation goes on for a good 40 minutes before I reluctantly tell Luke I'd better get off the phone. It's getting pretty late and although I feel like I could talk to him all night, I know that's not a good idea. After we hang up, I try to go to bed, but I struggle to fall asleep. I'm far too excited.

Getting out of bed the next day is even more difficult than usual.

"Becky! You're going to be late for school!" Mum calls impatiently.

I'm halfway to school when I realise that I've forgotten my biology homework. I wince. Mr Cooper already doesn't like me and this is not going to help.

Sure enough, he doesn't take the news well.

"Rebecca Bloomwood," he says sternly, "if you don't get your act together, I'll have to tell Mr Smeath to withdraw you from the class election."

I gasp. Lose to Alicia Billington by default? That's the last thing I want!

"I'm sorry, Mr Cooper," I say quickly. "I'll definitely have everything for you tomorrow morning."

"See that you do, Miss Bloomwood," he grumbles. "See that you do."

"I hate biology," I grumble to Piper and Suze at lunchtime.

"And the annoying thing is that I did do last night's homework, but Mr Cooper obviously thinks I'm just saying that. He actually gave me extra homework on top of tonight's regular homework. Plus I have a French essay to write, more reading for English, extra work for media studies… Oh, and I have to go to all those club meetings as part of the campaign. I don't know how I'll ever get it all done!"

Suze and Piper listen to my ranting patiently, but I can tell by the slightly glazed look in Suze's eyes that she's not completely paying attention.

When the lunch bell rings, Suze hurries off to her drama class (she's always wanted to be an actress and it's her favourite subject) but Piper lingers behind.

"You know, Becky," she says hesitantly, "if you need some help getting things done, I can help you."

I stare at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "Well, I'm pretty good at French, for example. I could help write your essay and that would give you more time to work on other things."

"Oh, Piper, that's really nice of you, but I couldn't possibly…" I begin.

She holds up her hand, silencing my protests. "It's no problem at all," she assures me. "You've been so nice to me, Becky. I just want to help you."

"No, really, you don't have to," I insist. "I'll manage somehow. I was just venting, that's all."

"OK," she shrugs. "If you change your mind…"

"I won't," I assure her. "What are you doing now?"

We both have free periods in which we can choose to study or work on anything we like.

"I think I'll go to the library and get some reading done," Piper says thoughtfully. "What about you? Getting started on that homework?"

"Yes, I'm going to do my biology homework now and then I'll head to the design and technology studio to work on my major project," I reply.

The biology homework takes longer than I expect but I'm very pleased with myself when it's finally done. I wonder if I should go and hand it in to Mr Cooper now, but I really can't deal with him again today. I decide it's time to go work on my project instead.

I'm happy to see that nobody else is in the design studio and that I have the room to myself.

Design is one of my favourite subjects and we've been spending most classes working on our major projects for the term. The projects account for 75% of our final grade, so as you can imagine, we're putting a lot of effort into them.

I've chosen to make a series of three different sustainable designer handbags. Making a product that uses environmentally friendly materials from sustainable sources that is durable, affordable and still looks good, has been a challenge. But I'm enjoying every minute of it and I can totally see this being relevant if I ever become a designer one day.

I throw myself into my work and I'm painstakingly sewing on an antique button when a loud shriek fills the room. I look up in surprise.

"Rebecca Bloomwood, what have you done?"

Alicia Billington's major project is a full-length formal dress. Correction, it was a full-length formal dress. Alicia is holding what's left of it in her hands; an expression of horror on her pretty face. The dress has been hacked into shreds with a pair of very sharp scissors. Drops of what look like pink paint have been spilled across it.

"What's all the screaming about?"

Mrs Lang, one of the design teachers, is peering nervously inside.

"Rebecca Bloomwood has destroyed my major project, that's what," Alicia announces angrily.

"What makes you think it's my fault?" I lash back. "I came here to work on my project, not to destroy yours!"

Alicia laughs scornfully. "The evidence is all on your nails!"

I look down at my nails in confusion. Suddenly I realise that the pink paint spilled across Alicia's dress isn't paint – it's Marshmallow Pink nail polish, the exact shade that I'm wearing.

"But I didn't spill nail polish on your dress or shred it!" I protest.

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to someone who cares," Alicia says vengefully. "Meanwhile, how am I supposed to have another dress finished in time now?" She appeals to Mrs Lang, who looks startled and confused.

"I'm sure we can work something out, Alicia," she says hesitantly. She turns to me. "Rebecca…"

"It wasn't me, Mrs Lang, honestly," I plead. "Why would I destroy Alicia's dress and then stay here? If I had just wrecked someone's project, I would run away as fast as I could!"

"Maybe you just wanted to see me find it," Alicia accuses. "And you haven't explained the nail polish."

I can't explain how my nail polish got on the dress. All that I know is that I didn't put it there.

But who's going to believe me?

Author's Note: Sticky situations just keep on getting stickier! Will Becky ever make it to class election day? As always, love hearing from you!