Dr. Freck points a small remote at the screen, and a picture of our football team comes into view. He talks about our athletics program and starts rattling off stats of how many students from Citrus High receive athletic scholarships.
The soccer girls cheer loudly.
Hardy leans over. “I’m shocked they’re not running up to the stage.”
I snort and pull out a piece of gum. After putting the stick in my mouth, I fold the wrapper in a fan pattern. All the while, our headmaster drones on about the usual: community service, clubs, fine arts. I’m barely listening when Dr. Freck shifts his focus to academics. I know allabout our rigorous curriculum and how we score higher than average on standardized tests like the ACT and SAT. I’ve almost tuned out completely and have started twisting the wrapper into a ring shape when Dr. Freck starts into the part about Citrus Scholar. Something about his tone captures my attention.
“As you all know, the Citrus Scholar was created in 1998. This special endowment allows us to send one student from each graduating class to their dream school without having to worry about finances. It covers tuition, books, room and board. Traditionally, this award has gone to our valedictorian,” Dr. Freck pauses. “We have viewed this as a reward for the student who has spent their high school days focusing on academics.”
Traditionally? We have?My fingers still on the gum wrapper, I sit up in my seat, suddenly very interested in what he has to say.
Dr. Freck points his remote at the screen, and the image changes to a graph with a red line moving in an increasingly upward direction. The kind of thing you’d see in a cheesy ad about maximizing profits or something.
“Our test scores look great. In fact, they seem to be higher than ever. But the administration has noticed a spike in something else on our campus.” He sighs heavily into the microphone. “There’s a mental health crisis affecting teens in our nation, affecting students here at Citrus High. According to our counselors, anxiety and depression are at an all-time high. When asked what might be causing this, the answer is the fight for valedictorian.We’re seeing an uptick in students looking for extra credit if their grade falls below a 95, they’re constantly monitoring their GPA, they’re dropping out of sports and clubs if they think it will take away from their classes.”
“My mom says she thinks it’s social media,” Hardy whispers from beside me, but I barely register his words. I’m too focused on what Dr. Freck is saying. There’s a shift in the air. Something big is about to happen.
“We’ve spent the summer in meetings trying to determine how to fight against this crisis. We want to better serve the student population and have determined that Citrus High needs graduates who are well-rounded and better prepared for going into a world that includes more than grades.”
I hold my breath as I lean forward in my seat.
“We’ve decided to do away with class rank.” Dr Freck straightens his bowtie. “We will not have a valedictorian or a salutatorian from here on out. That means Citrus Scholar will be determined differently this year.”
There’s a strangled cry from behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it was. A smile touches my lips. Things just got interesting.
3
MOST LIKELY TO END UP IN THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE
“Will you please slow down?”Lily calls from behind me as I half-jog across The Yard to the administrative offices. There’s no way Dr. Freck is there yet, but I want to beat him to his office.
I still can’t believe he dropped such a bombshell and then refused to give us any information on how the Citrus Scholar will actually be chosen. It’s not fair. I have spent three long years working toward valedictorian. I have skipped out on parties and relaxing and anything that didn’t contribute to my goal only to have the rug pulled out from underneath me my senior year.
Then he acted like I was the crazy one for interrupting him in the middle of the assembly to ask what the new requirements for Citrus Scholar would be. What else was he expecting? That I’d just sit around waiting for the “forthcoming guidelines?” I don’t have the luxury to wait. I need to know now.
I need to win.
“Ella Adams,” Lily shouts. “Slow down this instant.”
My jog turns into a walk, but I don’t stop. I can’t, not when something this big is on the line. I’ve worked my butt off to make sure I receive the Citrus Scholar, and thanks to some summer meetings with our guidance counselor about mental health, they’ve decided to completely change the requirements. The whole thing is absurd.
“Where are you going?” I can hear Lily’s heavy breathing from just behind me. “We need to go to class which is in the other direction.”
My feet stomp against the grass. “Not going to class.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s the plan, then?”
I stop and turn to face her which causes her to bump into me. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s fine.” She brushes off the front of her shirt. “What are you doing? We can’t be late for Calculus. I’ve heard Mr. Smith is tough.”
A reputation he’s gained because of the amount of homework he assigns. “It’s not like it matters. They aren’t having a valedictorian anymore.”
“I’m sure grades still matter.” Lily shakes her head. “Nobody said that your GPA didn’t count toward Citrus Scholar. Just that it wasn’t the only deciding factor.”
“Right, and I need to know what those other factors are.”
“Dr. Freck said he would tell us more in the coming weeks.”
