The Teaching Assistant, Part 28 [AR]

[Lady Lucia]

Part Eleven

Amelia hesitantly sat down across the desk from Ms. Song.

Despite this being part of the unorthodox interview process, Amelia still felt a little bit like a girl being sent to the principal’s office. The schoolgirl outfit didn’t help. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, as she had always been an upstanding girl; a straight-A student. The only time she went to the office in high school was to drop off a form every now and then, and she actually struggled to remember whether or not she had ever even stepped foot into the principal’s office back then.

She wasn’t actually in trouble. And yet, she found herself shifting in her seat in general discomfort. The borrowed flats were too tight, the blazer felt a little tight now that she was seated, and the room was too warm.

“Please stop fidgeting,” Ms. Song said.

“Sorry,” Amelia replied. If she wasn’t self conscious before in the embarrassing outfit and unfamiliar environment, the blunt demand of the Student Advisor did the trick. It was so unexpected, Amelia had muttered her apology without even thinking. Now hyper focused on her posture, not wanting to start things off on the wrong foot, she sat up straight and kept her eyes trained on the woman behind the desk. “I’m just not used to the uniform; that’s all.”

“Understood. Although you should know that excuses are frowned upon here. Proper young ladies take responsibility for themselves, rather than placing the blame elsewhere. Was it the uniform’s fault, or was it your own?”

“. . . It was my own fault.”

“Good answer. Now then, shall we take a look at your file?”

God, these poor girls. In her younger days, Amelia had often fantasized about places like this. Though she hadn’t been a rebellious high schooler in the slightest, she still dealt with the usual angst that most teenagers did. A boarding school with no parents around sounded amazing. All the freedoms of college, but earlier than that. Granted, most of those daydreams consisted of an institution like PCA, a school on a show she used to watch. Teenage life in dorms, but still with whatever outfits you wanted to wear and a beautiful, sunny campus.

Westridge was definitely not that. While the campus was impressive, she would have preferred a modern look instead of the old, stone buildings that made up the school grounds. The uniforms, of course, were a bummer. And, from what she had experienced so far, the teachers and administration were a lot more strict than Amelia’s public school faculty were. Not unkind, but definitely too serious for her liking. Including Ms. Song, who started things off by criticizing her and tacking on a patronizing question at the end.

Thankfully, Amelia would only have to suffer through this kind of treatment for another few hours. Being on the giving end would also be weird, of course, but it was far better than receiving what she had dealt with so far. Even Ashley, another student, talked down to her. Amelia was certainly empathizing with the other students, as Mrs. Thompson had first suggested, but in a lot more ways than simply going through the motions of a first day’s schedule.

“Sure,” Amelia said. That’s all she could say. Before, the plan was to mention how she didn’t get a lot of sleep, or that she hadn’t taken a history class in years. Something to give her a little padding in case the weaker sections of the aptitude test ended up being a problem. But now that Ms. Song just made a point that excuses weren’t well received here, that no longer felt like a safe move.

The advisor pulled a small stack of papers out of a manila folder on her desk. “You should know, Ms. Roberts, that Westridge Academy is more academically strenuous than the average public school. So please, take no offense when I lay out the classes you’ll be starting in.”

Ms. Roberts?

It was one thing seeing the fake name on the aptitude test, but something else entirely to be addressed in such a way.

“Umm, is this part of-”

“Amelia. Proper girls do not interrupt others. May I continue?”

It was definitely a rhetorical question. Feeling smaller than ever, Amelia gave a quiet, meek nod.

“Now then,” Ms. Song began, “It seems as if you were passing all your classes before, but only just. Your test results suggest that you’re not ready for the majority of the 7th grade classes we offer here. There were a number of weaknesses highlighted by your aptitude test, and it’s important that we address those before allowing you to join the other girls in your grade.”

“But- umm, I-” Amelia stuttered out. She did a lot better than ‘barely passing’ her old classes, especially if Ms. Song was looking at her pre-college information. And what was she supposed to do if she couldn’t observe the right classes? Once again, she was desperate for someone to just drop the act and be straight with her.

Ms. Song apparently wasn’t the one who would be doing that for her. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, Amelia. This is common. More than half the girls here had to go through some degree of make-up material before they could fully attend their classes. Now, I’m going to go through my recommendations for you. Listen carefully, and let me know if there are any points you’d like to address. The proper response here is ‘Yes, Ms. Song.’”

It was so unfair. At this rate, Amelia was seriously considering whether or not she should just bail and go teach somewhere else. The uniform had been enough of a pill to swallow, especially due to how self conscious she was about her petite size. But she had NOT signed up to be treated this way by everyone for a whole morning. No one had told her. She didn’t care if the surprise made it more authentic; it was humiliating.

At the same time, she was in too deep. The uniform was on. The test was done. Backing out now would mean she had gone through this awkward experience for nothing. So, she pushed on and tried to see the light at the end of the tunnel. A well-paid teaching position with benefits, and the best possible stepping stone for her future.

Biting her tongue and glancing away, Amelia muttered, “Yes, Ms. Song.”

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[Lady Lucia]

Part Twelve

For reasons unknown to her, Amelia once again found herself in a uniquely patronizing situation. She was being made to speak like any given Westridge student would, and no one but Ashley had treated her like the adult she was since Amelia stepped onto campus.

No one had warned her about any of this. And, aside from the frustrating way that Amelia had to endure being a ‘7th grader,’ apparently Ms. Song wasn’t even using Amelia’s correct grades. As a straight-A student all the way through the end of high school, she couldn’t even fathom how someone could maintain barely passing grades in middle school. Showing up to school every day pretty much guaranteed decent grades, even for slackers. Which she wasn’t.

“It looks like Mathematics and Reading were your two strongest sections,” Ms. Song said. Or, in other words, the exact results Amelia had expected. “Science and History, however, will require some catch-up work on your part. For the next week, we’ll put you through our remedial course in those subjects. I strongly suggest that you make an active effort in the evenings to both review and look ahead when possible. You’ll be tested again on Friday with the potential to join your classmates on Monday if you’ve improved.”

“Umm,” was all Amelia could get out. Her observations were only a one day commitment, and she wanted to ask if there were any blurred lines between her real self and her student self. Was she expected to brush up on these materials on her own time? That was fine if she got the job, but hearing it straight would make things a lot easier to wrap her head around.

She never got the chance to clarify, because Ms. Song moved right on. “Please don’t interrupt, Millie. As for Mathematics and English, your teachers will be given your results to see what things need a little work this week. Additionally, passing your second test on Friday doesn’t automatically advance you. To parallel your classes, one of our high school girls will be assigned to tutor you until you’re fully brought up to speed with the rest of your classmates. Are you following so far?”

Amelia nodded.

This kind of learning is what set Westridge Academy apart from the average public school. Back when she was in school, the tiers were something like Gifted, Advanced, and General. Amelia was at the highest level, though it didn’t make her feel particularly special when she was a tween. When there were 100+ peers in the same classes, it just felt like a normal school routine. Once students were placed, however, they tended to stay in those levels. The school didn’t seem to make much of an effort to push the less intelligent kids towards the next ‘tier’ of classes within the same grade, even if hard work could easily end up bypassing natural talent. A lot of other public schools seemed to have the same issue.

Not at Westridge. The private school only offered a singular level of classes for each grade. Sink or swim. And, for girls that were having trouble swimming, the school used methods like this. Temporary remedial classes, emphasis on ‘temporary,’ and tutors. So, instead of a student getting stuck in a lower level class for a whole year and maybe advancing down the line, Westridge opted for a structure that gave attention to each individual student’s needs and maintained excellence across the board because of it.

This was all in line with the research that Amelia did before her interview, and it seemed like the school wasted no time on such things. The moment a girl arrived, they got right down to business with the aptitude test and the subsequent placement. Although Amelia was reluctant playing along, made easy by the fact that Ms. Song was particularly strict, it was still annoying that she once again had to suffer through the use of ‘Millie.’ Again. Except if it was plastered all over the files sitting on the desk in front of her, then it made sense that Ms. Song would screw up despite Amelia’s earlier correction.

Continuing, Ms. Song explained beyond academics, “As for behavior, I’m aware that you and your former school did not always see eye to eye. Now, Millie, your first day here has the potential to be a clean slate for you. However, we have a few things on your file that have been noted, and I sincerely hope that none of that will follow you here. Teachers are to be treated with respect, as are prefects. That is the most important point I wish to make. Will you have any issues with that?”

Amelia shook her head. “Of course not.”

She was beginning to understand. Rather than working off the impressive form she had faxed to the office, she was being treated as if she was one of the more difficult arrivals. Because while Westridge was home to a lot of girls that were there for a strong academic foundation and a better chance at getting into the good universities, there were also a number of students that were sent there for more disciplinary reasons. When the freedoms of a public school served to enable more troublesome adolescents, the parents that could afford it would ship their kid off to Westridge for an attitude adjustment. It’s not that the school was harsh by any means, but it was definitely more strict across the board.

Then she was to experience a difficult girl’s first day, rather than how her past self might have been received? It still didn’t explain ‘Millie.’ Maybe that was an attempt to needle her. Or, more likely, Ashley thought it would be funny.

“Try that again for me. Will you have any issues with that, Millie?”

Oh. Right.

It took Amelia a moment to figure out what Ms. Song meant. But then, lightly blushing at the absurdity of it, she said, “No, Ms. Song.”

It was going to be a long day.


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[Lady Lucia]

Part Thirteen

Though Ms. Song had more or less wrapped up the overview of what Amelia’s first week of academics would look like, it still took another ten minutes for the meeting to conclude.

By the end of it, Amelia suspected that the purpose of the extra time was mostly to condition her to have the kind of proper manners expected of the academy’s students. The amount of times she had to politely reply “Yes, Ms. Song” or “No, Ms. Song” to a pointed question was getting a little frustrating. Amelia was a grown ass woman, yet she was being treated like a young teenager by everyone she encountered so far.

It was Sunk Cost Fallacy at its finest. She had already made it so far in the meeting with Ms. Song, and blowing up in exasperation would only serve to make her look bad. Teachers were supposed to be able to play it cool, even when their students made a point to needle them, disrupt class, show blatant disrespect, and so on. Amelia could see how this could be another test, in a roundabout way. If she could survive such a patronizing ordeal while keeping it together, then surely she could do the same around difficult academy girls.

“Finally, there’s a matter of selecting an extracurricular class,” Ms. Song said, “Your cousin suggested our Visual Arts program for you. You’re more the artistic type, yes?”

Well, not necessarily. Back before university, Amelia just made a point to take a few artsy classes to pad her otherwise academic application. So her perfect grades were being ignored, but this part of her form was being taken at face value? Go figure. Out of a habit that was already beginning to form, she was about to reply with ‘No, Ms. Song,’ followed by a brief explanation as to where her actual non-academic interests lay. Just before Amelia spoke, however, she registered something else. “My cousin?”

“Yes, Millie. Is Visual Arts suitable for you, or would you rather discuss other options?”

“Umm . . .” she trailed off.

Her cousin? Thinking back to the last page of her registration form, Amelia eliminated that possibility immediately. She hadn’t spoken to her overly controlling parents in years, and her extended family wasn’t much better. The two names she put down for her ‘Emergency Contacts’ were friends from university that she knew lived in the city. There were definitely no relatives she would have listed anywhere, which meant that this was just another part of the act?

Either way, she was determined to get this charade over with sooner rather than later. Once she was officially hired on as a teacher, she could peruse all the extracurricular options available to the girls. Going through them with an overly strict advisor, while dressed as a schoolgirl? No, thanks. “Visual Arts sounds great, Ms. Song,” she said. Anything to progress things and get this all over with. At the end of the day, it’s not like her selection would matter.

Amelia had to awkwardly sit in silence as the woman sorted things out with the files on her desk. A few things were marked on the physical copies, and subsequently entered on the computer right afterwards. Trying to be patient, and still assuming that every part of her day was a test in one way or another, Amelia did her best to sit still and avoid fidgeting. Normally that would be an easier task, but the unfamiliar outfit made it difficult to avoid fussing with her clothes. The biggest temptation was to bend over and make an attempt to adjust the tight flats, but she decided to wait until she had either had some privacy or at least a moment where no one’s eyes were on her.

After what felt like an eternity, but was really only a few minutes based on the wall clock off to her left, Ms. Song finished things off with an emphatic tap of the Return key, followed by a single hit of Amelia’s physical files on the desk to straighten them out. Now could she break character? At least for a moment, so Amelia could have a chance to breathe?

“You’re all set, Millie. While the main office sorts out your schedule, you’ll be given a brief tour of the campus. Ashley volunteered to show you around, and I’m sure she’d be willing to help with your luggage.”

So much for breathing.

“My luggage?”

“Ah, are your things being shipped?”

“What things?” Amelia asked. For a moment, she was totally lost. Parroting Ms. Song’s words back in question form, it finally clicked into place when the woman gave her a peculiar look. Right. It was a boarding school. And, if Amelia was supposed to be a new student, then she would be staying in one of the Westridge dorms. “Oh, umm, right. Sorry, Ms. Song. Yes, my luggage is still on the way.”

“Well, as long as you have enough for a few days. The office should have all the tracking info, and will keep you informed as to when the remainder of your possessions will arrive. Now, before you get started on your tour, do you have any more questions for me? I’ll be your advisor for the duration of your intermediate education here, and will be checking in with you over the next few weeks as you make the transition from your old school.”

As badly as Amelia wanted to ask if they could just speak candidly for a moment, she just wanted to move on to the rest of her day. So, with a small shake of her head, she said, “No, Ms. Song. Thank you for your time.”

“You’re quite welcome, Millie. Do you need an escort back to the main doors, or can you find your way there?”

“I can find my way,” Amelia said. Tired of pushing for her real name, she at least wanted her future colleague to know that she didn’t need help with directions. In truth, the numerous turns made her skeptical about whether or not she’d be able to make it back to the front of the building on her first try, but she’d rather backtrack once or twice than need a babysitter.

“Very well. Ashley will have been paged by now, so you should get going. Welcome to Westridge, and I wish you excellence in your endeavors here.”

“Thank you, Ms. Song.”

With an awkward nod, Amelia left the office.

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[Lyssa]

Fantastic story!

[Lady Lucia]

Part Fourteen

Letting out a small sigh as the door closed behind her, Amelia walked in what she hoped was the right direction. She had admittedly lost her bearings after the multiple stops she made with Ashley earlier, followed by the walk from the testing room to Ms. Song’s office. But, if it meant having a moment to herself, then she would prefer roaming down the hall and making a few educated guesses about the upcoming turns.

Most of all, she wanted to take off the flats from the Lost & Found. Her feet could really use a breather from the slightly too tight footwear. However, there wasn’t a bench or a chair to be found nearby, and there wasn’t really any time for a break even if she wanted to take one. Ashley was meeting her back at the lobby, and there was already a good chance Amelia was going to waste time with a wrong turn or two.

At least Ms. Song wasn’t around to get on her case any longer. As Amelia made her way to the end of the first hall and took a left, she used the temporary solitude as an opportunity to fidget with the unfamiliar uniform. Sitting still for so long would have been a lot easier in her normal outfit. She adjusted the blazer, tucked the dress shirt a little farther into the plaid green skirt, and straightened the tie that probably didn’t actually need straightening. The last thing Amelia needed was for the office girl with the unfair curves to remark on any imperfections in the already demeaning outfit.

As expected, Amelia ended up taking a few wrong turns along the way. Thankfully, no one was around to watch her double back a few times to try another hallway. The building was only so big, thankfully. Before too long, she found her way back to the lobby. Not quickly enough, apparently, as the familiar dark haired student was already waiting for her.

Ashley was off to the side, leaning against the wall and texting. She glanced up from the screen when she caught Amelia’s movements in her peripherals, or perhaps the faint clack of the flats. “Hey, Millie,” she said. Pushing off the wall and tucking her phone into her blazer pocket, she smiled. “Took you long enough.”

It was one thing for Amelia to bite her tongue in Ms. Song’s stern presence, but the prospective teaching assistant’s patience was growing thin. She would begrudgingly play this game around the other adults, but not with one of the students. “It’s Amelia.” Flat tone, and no concessions of ‘Amy’ or ‘Ames’ like before. The girl really shouldn’t have been using her first name to begin with, even if they met in the office instead of a classroom. But it was too late to insist on ‘Ms. Martin.’ For now.

“Sorry, Millie,” Ashley shrugged, “That’s what all your documents say. If you want to change your preferences, there’s a form you can fill out. But later, okay? We’re already behind schedule.”

Wait, what?

Amelia hadn’t expected the girl to echo the awful nickname after the correction, but the explanation threw her even more. It didn’t sound like Ashley was kidding, but since when did names work like that? Normally, it’s the reverse. Someone gets called by their full name, and then expresses the nickname they go by. But not only was Amelia dealing with the pervasive roleplay she had been thrust into since putting on the Westridge uniform, but her inexperience with private schools pushed back against whatever doubts she had in regards to Ashley’s response.

Which reminded Amelia of her internal question from earlier. “That’s not what I put on the form,” she said. Maybe a student would be more keen to break character than an administrator, or at least more willing to be honest about what was going on with her ‘first day experience.’

“Huh, really?” Ashley asked, “Could be a filing error. Do you know who was working when you faxed your stuff in?”

Of course not. The whole point of faxing is that it’s done over a machine. “No,” Amelia simply replied. No need to take her frustrations out on a teenager. “Don’t you?”

Ashley just shrugged. “No idea. When did you fax it? Actually, never mind. I’m not that familiar with the schedule. I just know when I work.”

“Okay, but you can still call me ‘Amelia.’ The files don’t really matter; I’m just here for the day anyway.”

Walking the rest of the way over, the dark haired girl placed a hand on Amelia’s shoulder and looked down into her eyes. When they were face to face, the height difference was a lot more dramatic. Per the student handbook, high school girls were permitted to wear heels, but flats were required for the younger students. Amelia had only skimmed the handbook per Mrs. Thompson’s suggestion; the only reason she remembered this detail is because Ashley pressured her to fully follow the school’s dress code earlier.

There was a reason Amelia normally wore heels. When barefoot, she stood a fraction of an inch taller than five feet. Even with the advantage tactical footwear gave, she still fell on the shorter side. The most she ever had was an extra two or three inches, as the physical cost of wearing anything more than that outweighed the height benefits. With the borrowed flats, however, the petite blonde was back to her small stature. Ashley, on the other hand, was wearing what looked like one-inch heels. Amelia had already mentally dealt with their height disparity earlier, but it seemed worse now that she actually had to look so far up to meet the girl’s eyes.

“Have you ever tried going by ‘Millie?’ Like, really tried?”

“Of course not,” Amelia said, “I like my full name just how it is.”

“So you haven’t tried?” Ashley asked.

Sighing, Amelia answered in the proper way Ms. Song had enforced earlier. “No, Ashley. I’ve never tried going by ‘Millie.’”

Softly smiling, Ashley said, “Maybe you should.”

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[Lady Lucia]

Part Fifteen

Amelia wasn’t prepared in the slightest to handle the logic Ashley was using.

Normally, when you tell someone you prefer a certain name, that’s the end of it. They might slip up once or twice afterwards, but eventually it’s familiar enough that they’ll always get it right. This was quite the exception. Not only was Amelia’s name incorrectly filed in the office, apparently, but now Ashley was actively working against her attempts to correct it. Not maliciously; at least, not on the surface. Instead, she approached things in a similar manner to when a parent pushes vegetables on a child.

“How can you say you don’t like something if you’ve never tried it?” Ashley asked, “I mean, I tried ‘Ash’ for like a month one time, and it really grew on me.”

“That’s not the same,” Amelia said. She had already gone through a short ‘Amy’ phase, which was more or less the same as the way Ashley shortened her own name. But Millie? Not great. Although it’s not like she could deny the dark haired girl’s point. Over the course of her meeting with Ms. Song, Amelia had already gone from subtly grimacing every time she was called ‘Millie’ to not batting an eye at it by the end. Maybe it was an acquired taste. Or maybe she was just going numb to it, which is distinctly different than growing to like something.

Either way, she’d have to deal with it for a little while longer. Ashley seemed fixated on the idea now that they were talking about it. “Let’s walk and talk, Millie,” she said. Taking Amelia’s hand, she gave a small tug towards the double doors. “And you can tell me all about why trying new things is so scary.”

What . . .?

Amelia was both caught off guard and a little insulted by the girl’s casual words. It wasn’t like that! She considered herself a fairly adventurous person. To have a total stranger imply the opposite, even if it was in a teasingly patronizing way, put her at a loss for words for a moment. It was also a second problem to face; girls talked, and it would be better if Ashley liked her. Positive gossip meant a good reputation on the first day of class. Negative gossip, however, was twice as powerful.

More than anything, Amelia wanted the former. Not to be a ‘cool teacher’ or anything like that. She just hoped to avoid the uphill battle that would come with a bunch of girls not respecting her from day one. But what could she say? It’s not like Amelia could talk about all the bars and clubs she went to on the weekends. What kinds of ‘new things’ would be relatable and impressive to an eighteen year old?

With all the thoughts sparked from Ashley’s nonchalant yet offensive question, Amelia didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with her hand being taken. Reluctantly walking forward from how the hand cupped around hers led forward, Amelia tried to tackle both the ‘Millie’ thing as well as the conversation it was leading towards. “I’m not scared of anything, Ash,” she said. Despite the schoolgirl outfit, Amelia was still an adult and a future teacher. Confidence was a little more difficult to grasp, however, after doing so poorly on a test and going through such a demeaning meeting afterwards.

“Oh?” Ashley replied.

She pushed one of the doors open and tugged at Amelia’s arm again to guide her through. The autumn air was noticeably colder with only a skirt to protect her legs, although the blazer helped. The mid-morning sun shone down onto an empty quad; all the other girls must be in class, which meant that she wouldn’t have to be seen by dozens of students. Not yet, at least. Amelia assumed she would have to walk from class to class like everyone else that afternoon. Not only for the ‘first day experience,’ but also because only observing one teacher didn’t make as much sense as observing several.

“Mm hmm,” Amelia nodded. She was just now registering that they were holding hands. Lightly blushing at the fact that she would definitely look like the younger girl from afar compared to Ashley’s mature height and figure, Amelia resisted the urge to pull her hand free. Now that she had allowed it to begin with, there was less of an opportunity to voice that it didn’t feel super appropriate. Amelia was a future academy teacher, and Ashley was a student. Not wanting to add yet another layer of potentially complicated conversation about what should be simple topics, however, Amelia let her hand remain where it was.

She was so distracted by everything Ashley was throwing at her that she didn’t pause for even a second to think that being escorted around like this would make her appear more like a lost little lamb of a new student, rather than a slightly younger girl walking side by side with the office assistant who probably did tours like this all the time with new students.

“Well, if you’re not scared of anything,” Ashley said, pausing their walk only a few steps from the administration building with a squeeze of Amelia’s hand. “Then prove it. Go by ‘Millie’ for the rest of the day. You can handle that, right?”

“Umm. Well . . .” Amelia trailed off. It wasn’t quite as simple as that. If a college friend had dared her to do something similar, especially if they were out where no one knew her, it would be different. But she was supposed to be an authority figure at Westridge, and her current attire was already screwing with her image. Adding an embarrassing name to the mix would only make things worse.

Squeezing her hand again, Ashley just smiled. “Come on, Millie. What’s the harm? Everyone’s going to be calling you Ms. Martin anyway, right?”

She had a point there. But, still. “I don’t know, Ashley.”

“Just try it. Be brave! Tell me that your name is Millie.”

Swallowing hard, and crumbling to peer pressure and a need to prove herself after being treated more like a tween than an adult all morning, Amelia reluctantly gave it a try.

“My name is Millie . . . ”

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[Lady Lucia]

Part Sixteen

Millie.

Somehow, Ashley had pressured Amelia to temporarily accept the nickname. It had been done so casually, so effortlessly; which made pushing back nearly impossible. After dealing with Ms. Song’s constant scrutiny earlier, Amelia was a little disarmed by the time she met Ashley for the tour. With so many other reasons to already feel self conscious, she couldn’t bring herself to argue about something so trivial.

The conversation ended as easily as it began. With a chipper attitude, Ashley had exclaimed, “Cute! Okay, Millie. Ready for the tour?”

Amelia distinctly remembered Ms. Song using the word ‘brief.’ However, the circuitous route Ashley took her on felt like the complete opposite. Maybe it was the uncomfortable flats, or the schoolgirl uniform, or the constant use of the new nickname, but time seemed to drag on and on as they walked nearly the entire campus. Without her phone, it was difficult to get a sense of how long she had been there. Changing, then the aptitude test, then the advisor meeting, and now this. When was she going to get to observe classes?

Westridge Academy was a boarding school, but it reminded Amelia a lot of her experience at university. A smaller campus, sure, but that was the only notable difference. Two big dorm buildings; one for girls grades six through eight, the other for girls grades nine through twelve. Amelia knew they used ‘intermediate’ for the middle school aged girls, but only because Ms. Song referenced it earlier. She couldn’t remember the phrase for high schoolers, but it was probably just as unnecessarily posh.

A few academic buildings, a library, a modest gym alongside a variety of outdoor sports areas. It would have been much simpler for Ashley to gesture to most of those things from the top of the large hill that the campus was on. Instead, they walked everything. Amelia’s feet were killing her by the time they made it back to the quad. Just when she thought it was over, Ashley led on.

To the intermediate students’ dorm building, where they ascended two stairwells. “You’ll be in a suite with nine other girls,” Ashley said. She took Amelia’s hand and tugged her down the hallway; the gesture was just as difficult to shake as the new nickname. Throughout the tour, the dark haired girl had held her hand and let go just frequently enough where it would feel awkward to bring up an issue with it now. “That’s four doubles and two singles. And lucky you, Millie! I was told that you’d be getting one of the singles.”

At this point, Amelia wasn’t surprised. More of the role, more of the act everyone managed to keep up despite her real age. An hour or two ago, she would have questioned the implication that she was being given a room. That was then, however, and this was now. “A single sounds lovely,” Amelia said. Just because she was being treated like a teenager didn’t mean she was going to talk like one.

“Trust me, it will be nice to have some privacy at night. It’s the only time you can really be yourself, you know?” Ashley winked. Then she opened the door to the common room. At the end of the room was a table with a handful of chairs, no doubt meant for studying. And, in one corner, there was a sofa and loveseat, as well as a small coffee table. Other than that, six closed doors surrounded the room. The area wasn’t particularly extravagant; it was just enough for a group of girls to study and hang out before curfew.

As Amelia walked over to her door, hand in hand with Ashley, she was reminded of a detail she had put out of her mind earlier. Similar to the name pairing on the aptitude test, the private dorm room door was already labeled for ‘MILLIE ROBERTS.’ Before, Amelia had been too distracted by the new setting and the impending test. Now that she was with Ashley again, she flashed back to her first day in the office. “Roberts? Like you?”

“You remembered!” Ashley exclaimed. She gave Amelia’s hand a squeeze. “I’m flattered. And here I was, thinking I was just another student to you.”

“But-” Amelia hesitated. She hadn’t been prepared for the enthusiastic response. It also wasn’t the thing she wanted to focus on. “But, it’s ‘Martin’” Hopefully the girl would pick up the uptick at the end of that thought.

“Yeah, but ‘Millie Martin’ would sound silly, don’t you think? Relax! I thought it would be fun to make you my cousin for the day. My little cousin, that is.”

“Wait, you did this? You changed my name?”

“Technically, the office did. I just suggested it after I learned that I’d be your tour guide. If anything, blame Mrs. Thompson!”

“Yeah, but you-”

“Are you saying you don’t like my last name, Millie?”

It was such a typical girl tactic. The question was obviously a trap, but this new development sparked Amelia to pause and act more like the adult she was. She wasn’t about to fall victim to some eighteen year old’s logic. “I’m saying I like my last name better,” she finally replied. Avoiding the yes/no trap, and focusing more on what she actually cared about, “And I should have been involved in this conversation, Ashley.”

Ashley didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Amelia deflected. She just shrugged and said, “That’s not how this works, Millie. You’re an intermediate student here. Thirteen year olds don’t get to make decisions. You are thirteen, aren’t you?”

'NO. I’m twenty-two!!’ Amelia wanted to scream the correction.

But she couldn’t. Ashley worked at the main office, which means that she would have more interactions with the administration than your average student. This tour could even be a sneaky part of her interview process. While Amelia doubted that Ashley was directly involved with the evaluation, it would be easy for someone on the staff to ask the dark haired girl to at least report her observations afterwards.

Like so many times before, the sunk cost fallacy was real. She had already put on the schoolgirl outfit. Taken the aptitude test. Gone through a patronizing advisor meeting. And now this–learning that she was apparently supposed to be Ashley’s younger cousin for the day. This was all for the job. And, if she could suck it up for a single day, then there would possibly be a chance to reprimand Ashley later on for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

So, swallowing her pride, Amelia agreed with the lie. “Thirteen and a half, actually.” It was meant to come across as a little sarcastic, to show how none of this bothered her. Instead, she ended up blushing when the delivery of the words sounded more petulant than playfully snarky.

“Mm hmm. And you’re my little cousin?” Ashley asked.

“Of course, Ashley,” Amelia replied, “Your cousin, Millie.”

And that was that. Ashley gushed over how cute she was for a moment, then showed Amelia the private bedroom. Like the common room, it wasn’t anything special. Just a twin bed and a small dorm room desk. It was completely empty, save for a small stack of linens sitting on the end of the bed. Ashley explained how the school would supply anything that Millie needed until her luggage arrived. Sleepwear, toiletries, spare notebooks, etc.

While Amelia knew this was all pretend, it was still interesting to hear about what Westridge offered. Although it wasn’t surprising. The academy was comprised of so many students from wealthy families. A new student meant more tuition money coming in, so dropping a few dollars on hospitality was a drop in the bucket.

At long last, Ashley began wrapping up the tour. Hand in hand yet again, they left the dorms and walked towards the academic building.

Amelia hadn’t heard a bell, but the previous hour of classes had clearly concluded. A few small groups of girls scurried across the quad in the opposite direction that she and Ashley were walking, probably to stop by their rooms before the next round of classes. That was nothing compared to the sheer volume of girls walking the halls in the academic building itself. There were no lockers in the old stone building, but the area still had the same energy as a public school in terms of the brief chaos that happened between every class. The main difference, of course, being that every single girl was wearing the same outfit.

“This way, Millie!” Ashley tugged her to the right, guiding her through the crowd.

Amelia expected to be taken to a classroom, in order to start her first observation, but Ashley had other plans. They took a detour to a study room off one of the side hallways, where a familiar brunette was waiting for them just around the corner. “Hey, Claire!” Ashley exclaimed.

Claire, or ‘Mrs. Thompson,’ was lounging on a nearby sofa. Instead of administrative clothes, however, she was dressed the same as all the other academy students.

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[Lady Lucia]

Part Seventeen

For the most part, Ashley was the calculating type.

Being popular wasn’t just about being the richest girl, or the prettiest girl, or even the most confident girl at school. While Ashley was rich and pretty and popular, she was also self aware and realistic. It would be foolishly vain to believe that she outclassed the other Westridge girls in any of those categories. Almost every student at the boarding school had some degree of wealth, which meant the other two qualities weren’t far behind. At least, for the families like hers that put pressure on appearances and social interactions.

Ashley, however, was unique in the fact that she went the extra mile to stay on top. Studying other girls; going so far as to take notes to review later. Avoiding confrontations; it was easier to carefully gossip here and there to gradually take another girl down, but in a way where it wouldn’t be traced back to her. And finally, surrounding herself with classmates she considered potential threats. Instead of waiting for them to become a problem, Ashley opted to keep them close and let them enjoy the taste of popularity while believing that it was Ashley herself who made it possible.

Most importantly, she made herself trustworthy. In the movies, the top dog is always some bitch who berates and demeans the other girls to keep them in line. Ashley chose the opposite approach for real life. Aside from a casual backhanded compliment every now and then, the dark haired girl gave off a more approachable aura. Similar to the way she was eventually left alone in the front office via trust, she also gradually became the assumed secret keeper, advisor, and protector to her friends. It put her in a position where everyone relied on her, but also knew that crossing her would result in too much fallout if it ever came to that.

Enter Millie.

The blonde college grad was a fucking twig, and fairly short even with the assistance of heels. Not only that, but she also looked like a lost lamb when crossing through the threshold of the office’s door. Certainly not the kind of young woman who could control a room full of entitled teenage girls. In fact, if the little blonde wasn’t all dressed up for an interview, she wouldn’t look that different from most of the other academy girls.

Ashley decided to go for it. It was a lot more impulsive than her usual mode of operation, especially since an administrator could walk in at any moment. But as Ashley lied through her teeth, she realized that it actually wasn’t that risky. Worst case scenario, she could play it off as a joke. Or a mistake in the system, depending on the adult. Ashley had worked in the office long enough to trust herself to think on her feet. Thankfully, it never came to that, and she convinced Amelia to leave and come back another day.

In other words, to give Ashley time to prepare. It was an absolutely crazy idea, one that she wasn’t sure that she could pull off. But if it worked . . .

The paperwork was easy. Thanks to Ashley’s ‘helpful’ tip, the faxed registration form arrived when everyone in the office was having lunch and she was once again the only one in the room. The paper version submitted by Amelia would never make it to the school’s records. Its only purpose was to give Ashley the information she needed.

Opening an electronic version on the computer in front of her, the dark haired girl smirked to herself and began transferring all the relevant details. It had taken her quite some time to decide on a suitable grade for little Millie. Could the young adult pass for a middle school girl? She was the right size, but there was still an air of maturity that would make it a hard sell. Ultimately, Ashley decided to go for it. If the school uniform could be involved, that would surely offset any adult mannerisms.

Amelia would be thirteen years old. Old enough to have a bit of boob, but young enough to not be taken seriously in the slightest. And, just for fun, she would be called ‘Millie.’ The perfect name for a transfer girl on scholarship. And the perfect name to add to the image that Ashley was aiming for.

Ashley only shared her scheme with one other person–Claire. The tall brunette was easily the best choice. Just like Millie would look years younger when dressed like a schoolgirl, Claire could pull off a more mature look when wearing the right combination of clothes and make-up. Not only that, but Claire could keep a secret and had a great poker face. Between Ashley’s excessive editing of the registration form and Claire’s fake interview, all the pieces would be in place for Millie to spend a full day at Westridge Academy as a new student without even realizing it.

And it actually worked.

By setting the interview at 5:30 on a Friday–thirty minutes after the work day in which most administrators left early, and a good two hours after the last class of the day–no one was around to notice that Claire was borrowing an office at the end of the hall. Posing as Mrs. Thompson, after Ashley switched the names on the office doors, Claire convinced the unsuspecting applicant to come back and spend a day as a new student in full uniform.

Just for good measure, Ashley changed the girl’s last name to ‘Roberts.’ Setting it up so they were cousins meant that it would be easier for her to get out of a few classes in order to show her dear younger relative around the campus. After all, changing schools in the middle of the year is quite a big transition. Having a familiar face on the first day would help Millie feel more comfortable. And, since it was Ashley’s home turf, it was all too easy to confiscate the small blonde’s possessions before her aptitude test.

Once all was said and done, Millie looked so CUTE. Honestly, once Millie swapped out her heels for a pair of used flats, she probably could have physically passed for a twelve year old. However, thirteen was still the right call, as the girl’s hair and make-up were just enough to give her a slightly older look.

Next, came the biggest wild card of the day. Ashley passed off her ‘little cousin’ to Mrs. Lewis. Aside from introducing Millie as a new student, there wasn’t anything else she could do. Ashley just headed to class, touched base with Claire, and prayed. Between the aptitude test and the advisor meeting, little Millie would be alone with two separate adults.

The good news was, Ashley had added plenty of negative things to Millie’s registration form when she transferred the physical version to the computer. Rather than the straight-A student that the petite blonde really was when she was younger, the newly thirteen year old Millie was now a straight-B student. And a B student at a public school is basically a C student at Westridge. On top of that, she was oh so troublesome. A handful of detentions, issues with authority; ‘compulsive liar’ was on the list as well, to undermine any adult truths that the new transfer student might be tempted to tell if she figured out the game Ashley was playing.

After dropping Millie off for her test, Ashley could barely concentrate as she sat in the back row with Claire and another friend of theirs. First, Mrs. Lewis would oversee the aptitude test. Then, Ms. Song would put together a schedule for the girl based on both the test and the falsified registration form Ashley has submitted to the school’s system. Unfortunately, Ashley had a different advisor, so she couldn’t do any foundational work as Millie’s ‘older cousin’ before the meeting on Monday. Even though she spoke to Ms. Song every now and then in the front office, Ashley didn’t know whether or not Millie would even go for the ‘first day experience’ idea until after Claire’s Friday meeting.

So many questions. How well did Millie do on the aptitude test? Was Ms. Song able to define all the expectations of a proper Westridge student without Millie catching on? If the little blonde did figure out what was happening, would she be able to slam on the brakes? All the phone numbers on the registration form had been changed, and Ashley had hidden away the phone and wallet that would more easily be able to prove Amelia’s real age. But if Ms. Song indulged the girl and let her use an office phone with a memorized number, this whole thing was over.

Finally, after the longest history class of her life, Ashley was called down to the main office. To give Millie a tour of the campus, as originally planned. Or to face the music, if her not fully calculated idea failed.

Ashley shot Claire a confident wink, to assert that she wasn’t nervous in the slightest, and then went to see how everything played out in her absence.

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[Lady Lucia]

Part Eighteen

Ashley was nervous.

Not because she was worried about getting in trouble. This whole thing was a prank at the end of the day, elaborate as it was. But if she was caught, the rest of her senior year would be more of an inconvenience. The wrist slap of a punishment would probably involve taking away her hours in the office and the perks that only Ashley knew came with it. That was really her only worry, other than the annoyance of putting on an apologetic show.

Thankfully, it seemed like things had worked out. The little blonde was still dressed like a schoolgirl, and had a bit of a lost look on her face. Cute. Ashley would be more than happy to lead the way, but only after asserting that ‘Millie’ was a better name for her. Maybe Millie would have stood up for herself if she was dressed in her normal clothes and standing at the front of a classroom, but she had no such defenses at the moment. Not only was Ms. Song a force to be reckoned with, but Ashley herself had a way of getting what she wanted. Dealing with both women back to back would be difficult to handle.

Sure enough, Millie caved, and that was that.

Ashley proceeded to lead an unnecessarily long tour of the campus with the intention of slightly tiring the girl out. Every little bit helped, and physical exhaustion tended to pair well with the mental stress that Millie would no doubt be dealing with soon. That, and it gave Ashley a chance to drop the nickname dozens of times along the way. The fact that Millie had actually been assigned a dorm was amusing, too, considering the school hadn’t yet received a down payment for room and board. Normally the office waited until they had the check in hand, to avoid potential financial complications down the line, but perhaps the mid-semester ‘transfer’ had caused that particular step in the process to be overlooked.

No matter. Ashley wasn’t intending for Millie to stay the night, although giving the student teacher a curfew designed for thirteen year old girls was a fun thought. For the moment, it was just a matter of making this feel more real and official. That way, the reveal would be all the more delicious. Uniform, aptitude test, class schedule, dorm. For all intents and purposes, it would seem like Millie was set up to be an actual Westridge student. By the time Ashley sent her home later that day, there was no way she’d ever return. If anything, she was helping the school by filtering out a gullible pushover from the pool of applicants.

There really wasn’t an end goal to the dark haired, dark souled girl’s plan. It was mostly an impulsively inspired exercise meant to flex her creative and manipulative muscles. And, as she walked schoolgirl Millie around campus, Ashley couldn’t help but appreciate the results of her little experiment. Now it was time for the next wild card. There was no telling how the young woman would react to learning the truth.

While it would be fun to keep Millie in the dark for as long as possible, Ashley really wanted to be present for the realization. Partially because she was both excited and curious to see the look on the girl’s face, to see the first words that sprang to mind, to witness how a girl straight out of college handled the fact that everyone at the school but Ashley actually believed that she was thirteen without question. But from a more pragmatic standpoint, Ashley also wanted to be there to control what came next. If she and Claire weren’t present, then there was nothing stopping Milllie from storming across campus and telling her story to the office. Even though Millie was a compulsive liar, at least according to her online registration form, it would still only take one phone call to sort things out if an administrator indulged her. It would be best if Ashley could intercept that line of thinking before it fully formed into a proper idea.

So, with her ‘younger cousin’ in tow, Ashley met Claire in their usual study room between classes, and mentally prepared for any number of ways this would go.

--------------------------------

Time seemed to stand still as Amelia took in the sight before her.

The brunette on the sofa totally clashed with the former image Amelia had of her. It wasn’t just because of the student uniform; her posture was more relaxed, her hair was up in a casual ponytail, and even the smile on her face contrasted the stern expression she wore behind the desk during their interview.

This wasn’t one of those situations where Claire might have been Mrs. Thompson’s daughter, or a girl who bore a striking resemblance to the young woman. Amelia was really good with faces, and this was definitely the same person. So, what was going on? Why on earth would Mrs. Thompson be dressed like that? Unless . . . Ever so slowly, things began clicking into place. The late interview. The ‘first day experience.’

“You-” Amelia hesitated. She didn’t know what to say, and her mind was still racing as she connected all the dots. Fragmented memories of the last few hours, all of which were mortifying in hindsight if her suspicions about what was going on were true. “You set me up?!” Settling on more of a question than an accusation, she wondered just how many people were in on this. Now that she had been given the answer to a puzzle she hadn’t realized needed solving, it was easy to see how Claire could have passed as an adult with the proper outfit and make-over. But Ms. Song? The half-asian features might have given her some youthful features, but Amelia knew without a shadow of a doubt that the advisor was an adult. Same with Mrs. Lewis, whose age was a lot more obvious at first glance.

Either those two women actually believed that she was supposed to be a transfer student, which was absurd, or they were somehow involved. Did she get the job, and this was nothing more than an elaborate first day prank? No, that didn’t make sense. Technically, Amelia hadn’t interviewed with anyone. Before today, she had only met with Ashley and Claire. Was this a psychology experiment or something, done at her expense? Westridge was known for its academic excellence, so they probably offered a psych class. But Amelia was a candidate for a student teacher position! If someone approved what Ashley no doubt suggested, what did that mean for her real interview process?

Claire was the first one to speak, breaking Amelia out of her thoughts. “Millie, proper girls don’t raise their voices. And that’s no way to speak to your older cousin.”

“She’s not my cousin!!” Amelia snapped. Belatedly realizing she was still holding Ashley’s hand, she immediately yanked free from the casual grip and took a step back. Even though Claire was the one who replied, Amelia turned her attention to the girl who she had spent the most time with throughout this charade. “Ashley, what the fuck is going on?”

“Careful, Millie.” Ashley didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. Her voice was calm and quiet in comparison, and she gestured towards the brunette. “Claire is a prefect here. She can write you up for just about anything, and I already count two infractions. Treating girls with disrespect, and swearing. Now, I suggest you apologize before you make it worse.”

Apologize? In what universe did it make sense for Amelia to apologize for anything, when she was the victim here? “No.” She dropped her voice and tried to keep it as flat as possible despite the way her heart was pounding and her head was spinning. How could she have been so stupid?! Putting on a fucking student uniform and letting everyone treat her as such? While Ashley was obviously to blame, Amelia was the one who let it all happen without pushing her unanswered questions. “One of you, explain. Now.” She was still the adult. And as badly as she wanted to just demand her things back–her clothes, in particular–it would be easier to handle a conversation like that once she had the full picture. Was this a test, a prank, an experiment; something in between, or completely different?

Ashley just sighed. “You always were the difficult little cousin, Millie. Such a brat. Honestly, it’s not that difficult to behave. Apologize first, okay? Then we can talk.”

Amelia parted her lips, jaw slightly dropped at the audacity. Collecting herself in what she hoped was a timely manner, she said, “Ashley-”

“Now, Millie. Apologize.”

“But, you can’t-”

“It’s fine,” Claire said. She sat up and pulled out a binder from her backpack that was resting against the sofa, “Maybe a few official infractions is what she needs. I’m sure the office would love to hear all about how poorly little Millie is doing on her first day . . .”

---------------------------------
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[Lady Lucia]

Part Nineteen

The threat shouldn’t have affected Amelia as much as it did.

It’s not like she actually went to school here. This was just . . . well, she didn’t actually know what it was, because neither of the girls before her were explaining. Regardless, she was an adult. A young woman who shouldn’t be intimidated by a couple of eighteen year old girls. And yet, Amelia had always been a perfect student. She got the best grades and she certainly wasn’t the type to cause trouble. Which is why her ‘good girl’ nature kicked in almost reflexively.

“Wait!” Amelia exclaimed. Her voice was a little more shrill than she expected. “Wait,” she echoed, at a more controlled level the second time around, “Please. Just, slow down.” Remembering what Ashley said about an apology being necessary before moving forward, Amelia tacked on an awkward, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Ashley asked.

Good question. Racking her brain for the details of the recent conversation, Amelia guessed, “Sorry for being difficult. Now, can we-”

“Ah, ah. ‘I’m sorry for being a difficult little brat. Like always.’ A real apology, Millie.”

She was tempted to slap the girl for her insolence, or storm away to set things right at the front office. Instead, she repeated the apology that had been dictated for her. As frustrated as she was about all this–embarrassed, too–there were just too many questions. She needed a better grasp on what was going on, which meant she had to suck it up and play nice. “I’m sorry for being a difficult little brat. Like always.” A light blush accompanied the words.

“Good girl,” Ashley said, “Although it’s more proper to address people by their name. Since we’re cousins and all, I can cut you some slack. However, Claire is a prefect. For girls in her position, the correct title is Miss Claire. It shows respect, but also fosters more familiarity than you would have with a teacher or advisor. Do you understand, Millie?”

“Yes, Ashley,” Amelia said. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that her ‘cousin’ rounded off the brief lesson by giving an example. A sign of respect, allegedly, though it didn’t feel that way amidst her current predicament. Still, she had swallowed her pride this far. To ensure that wasn’t for nothing, she made a point to turn towards the taller girl. “And Miss Claire.”

Claire nodded. “Good girl.”

It was the third time the patronizing phrase had been used in a matter of minutes. With each iteration, it took more of a conscious effort to keep from glowering. Even if an elder said that, Amelia would have had a negative reaction despite how it was technically praise. To hear it from two teenagers, however, made it that much worse. And yet, she couldn’t chew them out for it. Not yet. She wanted to demand for the explanation she was promised, but was worried that repeating herself so quickly would just add to the immature light they were painting her in.

Thankfully, neither of the girls dragged things out. “Why don’t you sit, Millie?” Ashley said. She gestured to the space next to Claire. “We only have a few minutes, so we’re going to have to make this quick.”

Without so much as an ‘okay’ or any other verbal assent, Amelia simply walked over and delicately sat herself down. She fidgeted with the skirt almost immediately, still not used to the unfamiliar uniform she was wearing. Standing was fine, but there was a little bit too much thigh from the way the plaid skirt rode up a bit every time she sat. She had put a comfortable distance between herself and the brunette, but that effort was instantly undone when the girl scooted closer.

Ashley joined them on the sofa, although her landing wasn’t nearly as delicate as Amelia’s. She haphazardly tossed her shoulder bag onto a nearby armchair and then plopped herself down on the end of the sofa. Speaking of too much thigh . . . But Ashley didn’t seem to care. One of the perks of being an attractive girl, apparently. Overconfidence and/or shamelessness. At least, that’s the way Amelia viewed it from her own teenage years and other girls she knew back then.

“Sit still, Millie. Claire’s going to do your hair while we talk, okay?”

For a split second, Amelia assumed that Ashley was commenting on the fidgeting in a similar manner to the way Ms. Song did. So far, there seemed to be a consistency when it came to girls being ‘proper’ at Westridge, whether it was an administrator or a fellow student. Not that Amelia was a student. Instead, this was about something else. “My- my hair?” she nervously asked. There were a lot of things Amelia was self conscious about–her height, her distinct lack of curves, her youthful facial features–but she loved her hair. It was her favorite physical quality, one of the blessings she counted against all the other ways puberty had screwed her over. The gentle curl she added at the ends of her golden locks made her that much prettier and more mature-looking. Wearing her hair down was the best for her image, which meant anything Claire did would be counter-productive to that daily goal of looking her age.

“Mm hmm.” Ashley smiled. She leaned forward and placed a hand on Amelia’s bare leg, and looked right into her eyes. “You are a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I-” Amelia’s voice caught in her throat. She was instantly overwhelmed, especially since she had already been distracted at the thought of her precious hair being messed up with whatever style Claire had in mind. But now? There was the hand, the direct eye contact, the demeaning trap of a question. Amelia knew in the back of her mind that she should leap off the sofa and put her foot down to pretty much all of this, but she couldn’t find the strength. Instead, the only act of rebellion she could muster was with her words. “My hair is fine how it is . . .”

“You didn’t answer my question, Millie.” Ashley’s smile faded a bit, and her eyes narrowed, “Are you a good girl?”

Amelia was reminded of Ms. Song and her no-nonsense attitude. Even though Ashley looked nothing like the young woman, her judgmental look was enough to spark memories of the recent meeting and how small Amelia had felt by the end. “Yes, Ashley,” she mumbled. Her cheeks turned crimson.

“And a good Westridge girl would trust a prefect to know best, right? Answer quickly. Remember, we don’t have a lot of time!”

“Yes?”

“Is that a question?”

“N-no. It’s just . . .” Amelia trailed off. Why was it so difficult to speak her mind?! ‘You can’t treat me like this.’ ‘I’m an adult!’ ‘Tell me what’s going on, right now.’ But she couldn’t turn those thoughts into words. Some combination of the uniform, the setting, and the idle threat of getting into trouble was causing her to freeze. Despite not really being a student, Amelia subconsciously hated the thought of anyone seeing her as imperfect. Her high grades and her good attitude had always been enough for a good reputation and an overall lack of negativity in her life.

Ultimately, this left her wholly unprepared for any kind of confrontation.

Ashley removed her hand and sat back, crossing her arms. “It’s just what, Millie?”

“I don’t know . . .” she muttered. Judgment, time pressure, and a desperate need to get the truth that was being dangled over her head. In a matter of minutes, she had fallen from ‘frustrated applicant’ to ‘meek schoolgirl.’ Not that Amelia viewed herself as the latter, but she certainly wasn’t doing a lot to combat the image in her current state.

Ashley, on the other hand, was reveling in the transformation she had pulled off in less than half a day. Discounting the prep, of course. “Need some help, Millie?” she gently asked, “You can nod. Remember, we’re running out of time.”

Without even thinking about it, Amelia gave a small nod.

“Good girl. Okay, all you need to do is give some permission. No one has made you do anything, right? This is the same. You need to ask Claire, alright? Nod again.”

Amelia nodded. There was a lot to unpack in that first question, but she couldn’t dwell on it. She needed an explanation, and there was only so much time to get it. Still feeling small, she waited for the directions that would get her what she needed.

With a supportive smile, Ashley said, “Please, Miss Claire, will you do my hair for me?”

She hesitated. “And then, you’ll explain?”

“Of course. Is there anything you want to ask Claire for, Millie?”

Taking a deep breath, Amelia grasped whatever courage she could find. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point there became a need to seek validation from these two girls. She had no idea why; she was just flustered and confused.

Sighing, she said, “Miss Claire, umm . . . Do my hair? Please?”

---------------------------------
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