When I looked over the grade to my final, I wanted to cry.

D.

The letter was clear as day. I didn't think it was real at first; I'd assumed there had been some problem with the school's computer system, or something wrong with my computer monitor, even. But reality soon set in- I'd received a non-passing grade in the class that was the most important that I pass with flying colors.

I thought frantically back over the exam, wondering just where I'd gone wrong. Sure, the exam was hard, much harder than I'd been expecting, but I still felt good about my chances, despite the fact that the exam covered material that we didn't even talk about during the semester. It didn't even bother me when I was the last student to finish; stupid me thought this might even impress Professor McCall, and show him that I was concerned about making sure my work was perfect. Looking back, it probably just convinced him that I was an idiot.

I paced around my apartment, feeling like a panic attack might set in at any moment. Then, the phone rang. I looked at the number, recognizing it as a school line.

"Hello?" I asked, my voice weak as I held back the tears that I desperately wanted to cry.

"Hello, is this Roxanne James?" said the chipper, female voice on the other line.

"This is she," I said.

My stomach tightened; I just knew, somehow, that this wasn't going to be good news.

"Hi! This is the University of Missouri financial aid department. How are you?"

"Good, I guess," I said, wishing she'd just get to the point.

"Great!"

Her chipper voice was already making me crazy.

"Well, I just wanted to give you a call to let you know that because of your grades the semester, the Annie Margolis Scholarship that has been extended to you will not be offered again the for the fall semester."

My stomach sank. That scholarship was the only thing keeping me in school.

"What?" I asked, my voice frantic.

"As you know, one of the terms of the Margolis Scholarship is that you maintain passing grades in all of your classes. And I see here that your grade in…Advanced Archeology with Professor Evan McCall was a ‘D,' which is below passing."

"There has to be something I can do," I said, pacing around frantically as I spoke. "I need that scholarship."

"Well, if I were you, I'd speak with the professor and see if there's anything you can do to bring the final grade up. You need at least a ‘C' to be considered ‘passing'."

I couldn't imagine asking Professor McCall to go easy on me, to give me a redo.

"OK, thank you," I said, defeated.

"Great! Have a great su-"

I hung up the phone and stared off into space. I couldn't imagine a more awful situation.

I took a deep breath, realizing that the sooner I got this over with, the better. Taking a seat at my computer, I opened my email program and typed up a letter to Professor McCall, asking him if there was anything I could do to improve my grade, letting him know about my scholarship situation. Once the email was typed up, I read it over, taking out a few of the "anythings" that I'd written. I mean, he was handsome and all, but I didn't want him to get that impression.

Once I was satisfied with the email, I sent it off and got up from my computer, mentally preparing myself to spend the rest of my day a nervous wreck about my school financial situation.

But to my surprise, I received an email only a few minutes later from Professor McCall.

Roxanne-

Sorry to hear that my class ended up being the deciding factor in your scholarship; I was just as disappointed in your grade as you must've been. That said, I am amenable to a retake. Please let me know what time works for you in the next few days.

• E.M.

I let out a sigh of relief. Truth be told, I wasn't expecting him to go for a retake; Professor McCall just didn't seem to be the compromising type, and considering how he'd been raking me over the coals all semester, I figured that he had some kind of weird personal problem with me. I fired off an email letting him know that all my exams were done with, so tomorrow would work for me if that worked for him. He responded with the exact time.

I felt a little better, but knew that I had a long day of studying ahead of me if I was going to pass this thing. Marching to the kitchen, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, sat down at the table with my class notes, and set to work. Before I knew it, the day had flown by. I wanted to stay up all night and cram in as much information as I could, but I'd learned the hard way in other classes that a good night's rest is better than pulling an all-nighter.

The next day, my stomach was tight with fear as I arrived on campus. Professor McCall had instructed me to meet him in his office, and when I arrived, he was sitting at his desk, a stack of papers to his right that he was in the process of grading.

His office was lovely, with a tall bookshelves packed full of texts, a window with a sweeping view of the campus, and a long desk piled high with papers and notes, a small bonsai tree on one corner. On the wall was a chart of human evolution, as well as a Renaissance-style painting of a landscape that I didn't recognize. Soft piano music was playing through a speaker.

"Welcome, Ms. James," Professor McCall said, not standing up, giving me the same icy treatment that he'd subjected me to all semester. "Have a seat."

He gestured to a small table that he'd cleared off where another exam was waiting for me.

"You have an hour to finish. Let me know if you have any questions."

And with that, he went right back to his work.

With small steps, I approached the desk and took a seat. I flipped through the exam, noting right away that the questions seemed….easier. It was all stuff that I knew, stuff that I'd learned over the course of the semester. In short, it was what I had actually been expecting the exam to be. I breezed through the thing, finishing it with ease in about thirty minutes.

"Done already?" asked Professor McCall.

"Yeah,' I said, setting the exam down gently on his desk.

"Well, if you don't mind waiting, I can grade it now."

"Oh, sure," I said, hiding the fact that I was extremely eager to know if I'd passed; my academic fate did depend on it, after all.

Professor McCall took the exam and looked it over, marking it here and there. I stood in front of his desk awkwardly, my arms crossed over my body. Minutes later, he handed the test back, an ‘A' marked the front in a blue ink.

"Nice work," he said. "Have a good summer."

And with that, he turned back to his desk. I left his office on cloud nine; I couldn't believe my good fortune. Stopping off at the financial aid department, I confirmed that with the new grade, my scholarship was back on track for the fall. Everything was going to be fine.

And though I didn't want to admit it, I was happy to be free of Professor Evan McCall. Sure, he was totally goddamn gorgeous, not to mention brilliant, but I'd had just about enough of the sadistic way that he'd been treating me all through the course of the semester. I knew that my ditz routine that first day was lame, but his response of grilling me hard every day since was a little out of proportion, to say the least.

Once back home, I crashed on my couch, ready to spend the rest of the day watching crappy TV and otherwise basking in my good fortune. But the chime of a new email distracted me before I even had a chance to begin. I opened my laptop and saw that it was an email from none other than Professor McCall. I read it with eager eyes.

Roxanne-

Congratulations on your excellent performance on the make-up test; I knew that you'd perform beyond my expectations. Before your summer begins, I'd like to extend to you the offer to work as my assistant. In thoroughly going over all of the applications for the position, yours was head and shoulders above the rest. Please let me know if this opportunity is something in which you would be interested.

• E.M.

I shut the laptop, the urge to scream coming over me. First he's failing me, now he's offering me an internship? What was with this guy? I had no idea what he thought about me as a person or as a student; everything was mixed signals.

I stood up and paced around my apartment as I considered the email. I didn't want to spend another minute with Professor McCall, but this internship…I knew it could make or break my academic a career. It was an opportunity too good to pass up. Sitting back down on my couch and opening my laptop once again, I began my email.

"Professor McCall…"