[ WP ] In an alternate reality , a student 's GPA value floats on top of their head as a large number . All your professors , fellow students , friends , and parents can see it . How does this affect on campus relationships and day to day interactions ?

*edit: Authors note: in case you're unfamiliar with weighted GPAs, some schools give you a step-up for honors/AP classes. So if you have all honors/AP classes and get straight B's, you'll have a 4.0 and straight A's will get you a 5.0. I included this in my universe. * 
 
 You know, I do n't hate them for it. My GPA was n't great, but it was n't terrible, either. The Four-Fives, those with a GPA between 4.5 and 4.999, did n't mind my three-four because they knew I was a good kid. I talked to some of them in middle school. They all hated the Fives, and I do n't think the Fives minded since they were all a little autistic. 
 
 My parents always stressed that I should bring up my GPA. When they were locked, it was n't pretty; twos had it much worse then than now. Even though they were n't twos, my dad's three-two did n't get him far. I still refuse to believe that he married a woman who locked at a *real* four-three. I guess my mom's just that nice, even if her locked number's deep red hue makes her look a tad evil. 
 
 But the Fours. The ones who are just far away enough from real perfection to still envy it terribly, but close enough to tout it about like a bunch of trophy wives with brilliant plastic surgeons. They liked to rub it in that I'm under them now, when it really matters. That's when I realized that the whole system was a bunch of shit. 
 
 That's why I'm going to a Blank Slate. Maybe everyone there will be older, but I think I'll get in. At the Blank Slates, no one knows your number. I do n't know how they do it, but when you get in there, your number is n't there, and neither is anyone else's. 
 
 ***** 
 
 `` Get the fuck away from be you filthy fucking two!'' the Four in front of me shouted. The bouncer he was addressing was having none of it. He gave him a nice hit right in the gut. 
 
 `` How often do you get Fours in there?'' I asked. 
 
 `` Never.'' 
 
 `` You never let them in?'' 
 
 `` They never want in. I kept him out because he was a cunt.'' He motioned me in. That was easy. 
 
 I kept my gaze at my number as I walked through the door. It flickered slightly, then got real bright for a second, then switched off completely. 
 
 I gasped. I never realized what things would look like without my number and it's dull greenish blue light above my head. My eyes readjusted themselves to the new lack of light for the first time ever. 
 
 I looked around and smiled. I did n't see anyone I recognized, and luckily for me, I was n't able to guess anyone's number by their appearance. The room was lit a warm yellow, which was noticeably gentler than the constant light that all the numbers in a classroom would give off. Everyone *was* old though, and it was loud not with music, but with words. 
 
 Everyone was clearly close to each other, socially *and* physically. Everyone except one girl, who was right around locking age. Just a year or so older than me. She was n't drinking or talking. She just watched the people talk. 
 
 `` Two of your favorite bottle.'' I handed the bartender a ten. `` Keep the change'' 
 
 `` Thanks, mate.'' He replied. First time I've ever heard a foreign accent in person. Guess it takes a special kind of person to barkeep a Blank Slate. I took the drinks and walked over to the girl. 
 
 `` You want a drink?'' She looked at me with surprise. I smiled. 
 
 `` Sure.'' 
 
 `` Are you just people-watching, or what?'' 
 
 `` Yeah. I've talked to most of these people. That one over there's a two, and-'' 
 
 `` Hold on, hold on -- do n't spoil it for me!'' 
 
 `` Sorry. Just instinct.'' 
 
 `` Ca n't say I blame you. Have you been in here before?'' 
 
 `` No. I just know most of these people from -- from around town.'' 
 
 `` Are you locked?'' I took a long drink and stared at the grimy guy she pointed out as a two. Maybe it was n't hard to guess, but I still did n't like knowing. 
 
 `` I will be tomorrow.'' 
 
 That's *really* early -- it's only January! Maybe she's a One-Five and her parents need her to get a job or something...'' 
 
 `` This early?'' 
 
 `` Yeah.'' She looked at the ground. I looked at the ceiling. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, I did n't mean to --'' 
 
 `` No, no. It's okay. Really.'' She looked at me and smiled. A real smile. the kind you only see on kids with a `` -. -- -'' above their heads. Maybe I could get used to this place. 
 
 ***** 
 
 We talked for hours. About our schools, about our parents. Hers were Three-Fives and they died in a car accident a year ago. She lived alone on federal money ( not the crime it used to be here in the States, as I learned in History ) about her sister, about my sister, about the place, about the drinks -- everything. 
 
 `` Well, I should get going. I ca n't be *too* hungover for the locking ceremony.'' 
 
 `` Where d'ya live? Maybe I can walk you home.'' 
 
 She grinned at me. `` I thought knowing would ruin the fun.'' 
 
 I gave her a sly look. `` What kind of fun?'' 
 
 `` Hey now. I might be at a Blank Slate, but I'm not that easy.'' 
 
 I jokingly snapped my fingers. `` Nuts.'' We were about as subtle as cruise missiles. Despite what she said, she leaned her head on my shoulder ( more for support than to flirt ) and we strutted toward the exit. I put my arm across her shoulders, and watched where he number would be. Since she lives on federal money, I'm sure she's a One-Five or a Two. 
 
 We walked out the door, and a solid `` 5.000'' flashed above her head. I looked at the bouncer. `` You did n't say anything about Fives,'' he mouthed. My eyes were wide open. 
 
 `` I hope you do n't mind.'' she whispered. 
 
 `` I hope *you* do n't.'' I stuttered back. 
 
 `` Relax. I still have n't seen yours. And do n't think I'll care.'' 
 
 *****
