V.

Hanna checked the envelope three times to make sure that it was, in fact, addressed to her. But it couldn't be. Because the letter she'd gotten in her campus P.O. Box that morning was threatening to revoke her scholarships, and Hanna knew for a fact that she had a near-perfect GPA.

Except, according to this letter, she didn't.

Hanna Marin

Cavanaugh Hall

As a recipient of the Diamond Scholarship ― a merit scholarship in the full amount of tuition, room and board at Rosewood Academy ― you are expected to maintain a certain academic standing: a grade-point average of at least 90.0. The financial office has been informed that you have failed to maintain the required grade-point average. As a result, your scholarship is now in jeopardy.

In order to ensure that you continue receiving your scholarship, you must improve your grade-point average by the end of the second quarter. If you do not receive a 90.0 overall by then, your scholarship will be bestowed upon another student of the academic office's choosing.

Sincerely,

Byron Montgomery

Financial Office

After screaming into her pillow for a good half hour, Hanna called the one person who could always decipher the things she herself couldn't understand.

"Yup?" Caleb answered, his voice scratchy with sleepiness. Hanna glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3 PM on a Saturday. She stifled a laugh at her friend's horrible sleeping habits.

"Caleb," she said. "It's Hanna."

"I know. There's this really cool thing they invented a while back; it's called caller ID."

"Whatever." Hanna waved his sarcasm off. "I have a problem."

"I'm listening."

Hanna explained the scholarship business and said, "Something's going on here. I haven't gotten a single grade below an A since I've been here, and all of a sudden, my scholarship's up for grabs?"

"No way. Your GPA is basically a 100. Either the financial office made a mistake, or ―"

"Wait. How do you know my GPA?"

If only she could see Caleb's face then. She imagined his eyes going wide, looking utterly trapped like a deer in headlights.

"I, um." He hesitated. "I've been working on this little mission of yours for a few days now. Checking the school's academic records and whatever. I saw your GPA a couple of days ago. You're, um. Really smart."

"You sound so surprised," Hanna said, mock-offended.

"No, no! I'm not. I mean, it's just ― you never struck me as a brainiac-type."

"So I look stupid, is what you're saying?"

"No! You look good. But like, not in a sexual way. I mean, you do look good in a sexual way, but that's not what I'm ― you don't look stupid, okay? You look fine. I just ―"

"Relax, Caleb." Hanna smirked. "I get it. The Princess being a super-nerd on the down-low is ironic."

He sighed. "Yeah. It is. And it makes this whole 'A' thing even harder to solve. Pretty much any geek or scholarship kid has a reason to want you expelled, with your grades. Do you know how much attention you'd be getting if you were ..."

"One of the rich kids?" Hanna finished for him.

Caleb groaned. "I'm royally screwing up in the conversation department today, aren't I?"

"Just a tad. But I get what you mean. Whoever's after me is clearly after me because of my grades." Hanna frowned. "So this scholarship letter ―"

"Is probably not a mistake." Hanna could practically hear the plan coming to a rolling boil in Caleb's head.

"Oh, no. What are you thinking?" she said.

"I've gotta go. Leave this up to me."

"Caleb."

But he'd already ended the call.