From: CamieLuvsArt222 To: ShaunaRae671 Subject: I love Paris!
Dear Shauna, Paris is perfect. I know, I know, I only got here yesterday, but I’m seriously in love with the city. You were totally right that travel would be the best way to forget about the mess with the scholarship; the only thing that could make this trip more perfect would be if you were here with me! I’ll take lots of pictures, and when we’re back on campus in the fall, be prepared for stories! (Not that anything has really happened yet, but I’m in Paris . . . something amazing is bound to be waiting for me!) I’m not sure where I’ll go next; for now, I’m just soaking up the streets and culture. It feels like something out of a movie, and it’s crazy to think that this is my real life! Hugs, Camie <3
Chapter One
When I saw the look on my academic adviser’s face, I almost passed out. Every time I’d met with Miss Silvestra, she’d been bubbly enough that Elmo would have looked depressed next to her. This time, though, her lips were drawn in a thin, tight line, and her eyes looked worried. I gripped the edges of the ugly orange chair in her office, high above the quad, and tried to breathe. “Miss Johnson, what can I do for you?” Her voice was subdued, and I winced. I’d never heard her so quiet. This was so not going to go well. “I wanted to know if the scholarship extends to summer classes. I, um, wanted to get a few extra studio hours this summer.” Nervously, I fiddled with a chunk of dark-blond hair that had pushed its way past my headband. She sighed. “Miss Johnson, about your scholarship.”
Miss Silvestra paused, and I felt like the world was holding its breath. Or maybe that was just me. She cleared her throat. “In usual circumstances, the scholarship does allow for a minimal number of summer credits. However,” she looked away and straightened a pad of sticky notes on her desk, “your circumstances are no longer usual.” “What do you mean?” “What I mean, Miss Johnson, is you have been placed on academic probation due to your grades last semester.” I slumped in my seat. I knew I’d almost failed English Lit, but I hadn’t realized it would affect my scholarship. “But what does that even mean?” “You will not receive any more funds from your scholarship until you can pull your GPA back to a 3.0.” “How am I going to pay for the classes, though?” I decided to try sympathy. Miss Silvestra had been working with me for two years; surely she remembered why I’d been awarded the scholarship in the first place. Artistic excellence had landed me enough money to buy my books each semester, but the fact that my mom was back in school for her bachelor’s (and the fact that she’d been the sole breadwinner for most of my life) had led to the college offering me one of the juicy full rides reserved for students with “extreme financial need.” There was no way I could pay for classes on my own. My adviser smiled at me sympathetically. “It’s not the end of the world. Many students have to seek federal assistance to realize their goals.” It took a minute for her words to sink in. “You want me to get a loan?”
“Only until you are able to raise your GPA again. Once you’re at a 3.0, your scholarship will be reinstated.” I frowned. “Would I get the money back for the classes I have to take until then?” She paused. “Unfortunately, no. In cases of academic probation, the responsibility rests solely with the student.” I slumped into the hard plastic chair. “That’s not fair.” “I’m truly sorry, Camie. That’s simply college policy.” God, how was I going to tell my mom? She’d flip out. Getting loans for her degree had been hard enough for her to stomach; what would she say when she found out I needed loans, too? Mom still had the mentality that if you couldn’t pay cash for a thing, it wasn’t worth having, and it had taken a whole lot of badgering from my sister and me before she agreed that in her case, maybe a degree (and the job that hopefully waited at the end of it) was worth a few loans. No way she’d agree to me getting loans; the only reason I was in art school at all was the scholarship. Mom was sure I wouldn’t have any job when I graduated, but the free ride made her proud. “You can always work at the salon until you figure things out, and you won’t be any worse off than when you started.” She’d been saying that since I graduated from high school, and while it grated on me, she had a point. Because of my scholarship, I had been free to do what I wanted in college and put off worrying about the real world indefinitely. Until now. Suddenly, I was afraid I might burst into tears. I stood up and forced a smile. “Thanks for letting me know. I guess I’ll figure something out for this summer.” Miss Silvestra nodded and stood up with me. “It’s pretty easy to apply for federal assistance. There’s more information on this website.” She handed me a pamphlet and clasped
my hand for a minute. Her eyes searched mine, and I could tell she wanted to say something else, so I choked back my tears and waited. Finally, she sighed. “The first few years of college can be challenging. Is there anything you need to talk about, Miss Johnson? Anything I might be able to help with?” Wordlessly, I shook my head, but she pressed on. “Do you need me to schedule an appointment with the tutor? Have you spoken to your English teacher to find out why you did so poorly?” I forced myself to nod. “I know what happened.” She looked relieved. “And I assume you are already making strides to fix the problem?” I nodded again. “Yes.” No way was I going to explain it to her, but luckily, she didn’t ask.