Bella
I stared at the screen of my laptop in the campus library, heart pounding as I refreshed the student portal one more time. And there it was: my grades updated. The failing mark in Darrell’s class had flipped to a solid B. Passed. Scholarship safe. No more panic emails from financial aid. No more late-night spirals about dropping out.
I let out a long, shaky breath and leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes for a second. Relief washed over me like cool water—sharp, almost painful. Darrell had actually done it. He’d submitted the “correction” form, claimed it was a grading error on his end, and the department had bought it. They’d even sent him a mild reprimand email (I saw the thread in the system logs somehow). He took the hit so I didn’t have to.
But the money in my account; t
