The Grade Heist

The day before Ridgeway High's third senior-year mock exam, I came down with a high fever after pushing myself too hard for days on end.

My head was spinning, and my body was cold and weak. I was half-collapsed on my desk when a small box of medicine appeared in front of me.

"Vera Collins, you should take this flu medicine," someone said softly.

I froze and lifted my head, meeting Sierra Langford's eyes.

In my previous life, it was this exact box of flu medicine that traded away my future and allowed her to steal the top score in the entire city from me.

My first instinct was to push it away, but before I could, my classmates had already gathered around.

"Wow, Sierra's really the total package—pretty, kind, and thoughtful enough to bring medicine for her deskmate."

"Yeah. Poor Vera can't even afford to see a doctor when she's sick. She's lucky to be sitting next to someone like Sierra who actually cares."

Hearing their comments, Sierra's smile only grew warmer. She tore open the packet and held out the pills to me. "Come on, take it! My dad brought these back from abroad. It's a special formula you can't even get here."

That jogged my memory. Right before this third mock exam, I'd taken the medicine she gave me, and from that moment on, my entire life changed.

I came from poverty. Scholarships were the only reason I could even study at this elite high school. The college entrance exam was my only shot to grab hold of fate and climb out of the mud.

Before senior year, my grades were always in the top three. I had a real chance at the country's best universities. I studied from dawn till midnight, terrified of wasting a single minute, praying that summer would bring the letter that could change everything.

However, starting with that third mock exam, my scores began to plummet. The final exam turned into a nightmare I could never wake from.

On results day, that glaring number on the screen—just over three hundred points—stabbed into my heart like a poisoned knife.

I went mad trying to appeal, but every report came back the same: those absurd mistakes were all written in my own handwriting.

Worse, the exam-room footage showed me leaving halfway through the math test.

I remembered finishing every problem, double-checking every answer until the final second. But the proctor, the teachers, and even my classmates all swore they saw me handing my paper in early.

My memories and reality split apart, like a mirror cracking down the middle.

I refused to accept it. I filed appeal after appeal. Each time, nothing changed.

Soon, my teachers' eyes were full of pity, and the police spoke to me with quiet helplessness. They began hinting that maybe the pressure had gotten to me and maybe I was imagining things.

It wasn't until after I died that I finally learned the truth.

It was her. It was Sierra and her Grade Heist System that had stolen everything.

Upon remembering that, I felt my face go cold. I shoved the medicine back toward her. "I've already taken something. Mixing meds might cause a reaction."

The words had barely left my mouth when Hailey Monroe, Sierra's best friend, burst out laughing.

"Seriously, genius girl? You think taking flu medicine will ruin your shot at college? Sierra just felt bad for you being so alone and sick with no one to help, and you act like she's trying to sabotage you?"

Her sarcasm was impossible to miss. Laughter rippled through the classroom.

"Attention, everyone! Experts say taking flu medicine will cost you your Ivy League dreams!"

"Oh, come on. She can't even afford a doctor, and now she's too proud to accept help? What, is she jealous of Sierra because Sierra's rich and generous?"

Sierra didn't stop them. She kept smiling, all fake sweetness, and pressed the box back into my hand. "Don't be like that, Vera. The mock exam's tomorrow. You need to take care of yourself."

Looking down at the pills in my palm, a chill ran through me.

It wasn't time for the real exam yet. I couldn't expose her. Not now.

The enemy was in the open. I was still in the dark. If I confronted her too early, who knew what new trick she might pull before the real test?

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to hold back the urge to throw the pills right in her face.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of red outside the window. I turned my head.

A banner hung across the school courtyard, fluttering in the wind: "A thousand soldiers charging the same path. One exam decides it all."

Suddenly, an idea hit me.

If every one of those thousands of students took something Sierra offered, would their exam scores be stolen too?