The Teaching Assistant

[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. 

– Fancy Space –

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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[Bard Jr]

Is this mainly a spanking story?  Will diapers be included?

[Lady Lucia]

Part Twenty

“Happily!” Claire chirped.

The girl was quite the juxtaposition, at least to Amelia. ‘Mrs. Thompson’ had a similar air of authority as the prefect position Claire had. However, she was also still an eighteen year old student. Behind that posturing, she had some teenage energy as well. The subtle enjoyment of Amelia’s dumbstruck expression when they had come face to face, as well as the enthusiastic tone just now. 

Amelia winced as she felt the girl’s fingertips running through her hair for the first time. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ashley beat her to the punch.

“Hush, Millie. You do want to hear everything, right?”

She nodded, still blushing at how many times she had shyly bobbed her head in affirmation instead of speaking up. 

“Then sit still and be quiet, okay? Class starts soon, and we’d hate for you to be late and earn yourself an infraction.”

“But I’m not-” ‘actually a student.’ Amelia only made it halfway through before realizing she was about to cause the very problem the dark haired girl was talking about. More circling, more time wasting; a bigger delay before learning what exactly was going on. So, against her better judgment, she cut herself off and replaced her partial response with a, “Yes, Ashley.”

“Good girl. Try to work on your posture, too.”

“And don’t fidget,” Claire added, “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry . . .” Amelia mumbled. The apology slipped out so naturally. She didn’t even think she was fidgeting, aside from the way she fiddled with her skirt a minute ago, but now she doubted herself. Sitting up properly, feeling more like a student than ever, she managed to keep perfectly still as Claire ran her fingers through her blonde hair a second time. Amelia hadn’t heard the word ‘posture’ in years.

Ashley remained quiet for a moment. The lingering silence made Amelia feel self conscious all over again, and she immediately put a little extra effort into sitting up straight and not flinching in the slightest as Claire began separating her pretty hair into a number of strands. And, to top it all off, Amelia pressed her lips together and didn’t say a word. Quiet, and still. Therefore, not judged or the cause of more stalling on Ashley’s end. 

“Let’s start simple,” Ashley finally said. Brushing back her own hair, she met Amelia’s eyes with an amused smile, “Claire and I are the only ones here that know your real age.”

‘What?’ Amelia’s eyes widened slightly. Her jaw also dropped a little, undoing her recent efforts of trying to keep her lips sealed. She was kidding, right? There was no way two separate administrators had mistaken her as a teenager. At least, not one this young. She had seen herself in the mirror after changing into the boarding school uniform and, while it definitely shaved a few years off her life, there was no way it had stolen a decade. Of course, that was before she had traded her heels for flats, and she had also been looking at herself as an adult. With unbiased eyes . . . still, thirteen years old? Not a chance. 

“Mm hmm,” she affirmed, “Mrs. Lewis and Ms. Song were totally fooled. Honestly, Millie, you aren’t much of a grown-up without your fancy clothes. It’s all about perspective, right? If you look like a student, and people think you’re supposed to be one, they’ll believe it without much thought. And, as far as Westridge Academy is concerned, you’re a troublesome little transfer student.”

So this was an elaborate prank? That had been one of her initial thoughts after seeing Claire, but Amelia had dismissed it pretty quickly. Although her fleeting vision had been something where the school was on board, rather than it being two students masterminding the whole thing. Of course, now that it was being explained, she had her doubts. After all, Amelia was still in denial about the fact that she could pass a seventh grader with no one batting an eye. This could still be a psychological experiment, and Ashley could be lying to spark a reaction. There was no way two students could pull something like this off without any administrators being involved.

“Ashley-” Amelia began. She didn’t make it very far.

“Millie, you promised you would be quiet.”

Typical. Ashley and Claire might have been eighteen, but they were still teenagers. And that was such a teenage thing to do–turning silent agreement into a ‘promise.’ Amelia pursed her lips in annoyance, but went quiet again. She would hear the girl out, even if she didn’t fully believe what she was being told.

“Good girl,” Ashley said, echoing the patronizing phrase. And then she explained. 

It wasn’t the full story, but Amelia didn’t need to know that. For the most part, Ashley glossed over the finer details and stuck to the highlight reel. Fake interview, edited registration form, student uniform. After that, it was simply a matter of passing her off to Mrs. Lewis and letting the school handle things from there. 

The more Amelia heard, the more she actually believed that it was the truth. If this was some experiment or school sanctioned prank, then surely the dark haired girl would mess up the explanation or break character at some point. Additionally, all of this validated the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she hadn’t been able to place earlier. How dressing up like a schoolgirl was a little extreme for a ‘first day experience,’ and how neither of the adults she had met addressed her as an applicant for even a second before keeping the charade going. If it wasn’t a charade at all, then Amelia had made a horrible mistake by playing along and breathing life into Ashley’s lies. 

By the end of the story, Amelia’s hair was pulled back and tied up into a simple braid. Not a horrible style, but it also took away the golden locks that had been previously been worn down for a more mature look. Luckily, the make-up still hid her freckles, but her face was more youthful without the proper framing. “Well, congrats. It worked,” she said. Mostly convinced at this point, it was a conscious effort to not slap Ashley. Or, on the other extreme, to sink down into the sofa and be mortified about the first impression she made with two potential colleagues who currently thought she was thirteen years old. “Now, you’ve had your fun. How about giving me back my things so I can clear this up?”

Despite how she felt, Amelia decided to play nice. It would be so embarrassing to go back to the office and explain everything. Difficult, too. She didn’t have any of her friends’ numbers memorized, and certainly wasn’t about to call her parents for help after so many years of cutting herself off from them. Without her cell phone and the contacts within, who could even verify her identity? If she really looked like a student, then no one was going to treat her like an adult until she had some proof. Which was a problem when her phone and purse had been confiscated.

Ashley must have been counting on that, because she didn’t seem particularly amenable to the request. “Hmm, not yet. You haven’t been a very good Westridge girl so far. If you want to be an adult, Millie, you have to show us that you can at least handle being a proper little student first.” 

What? That didn’t make any sense. “Ashley, I’m serious,” Amelia frowned, “Look, I promise you won’t get in trouble or anything. Okay?”

“I’m being serious, too. Are you saying you can’t handle intermediate classes?”

“Of course I can, but that doesn’t mean-”

“And are you a bad student?”

“No! I’m not a student at all.” She was quick to clarify, but it didn’t make much difference. 

“I mean in general, Millie. Are you a good student, or a bad student?” Ashley asked. Her voice was calm, and just assertive enough.

Still not in a great position without her possessions, Amelia reluctantly answered the either/or question. “I’m a good student. But-”

“Then prove it.” The same tactic the dark haired girl had used when saying that going by ‘Millie’ shouldn’t be that difficult. An annoying yet effective challenge that could often bait someone into doing something that they otherwise would prefer not to do. And, for a girl who was clearly the self conscious type, and who thoroughly lacked the backbone required to be a teacher, it would probably only take another little push or two. “Show us that you’re a good student. Make it through the day without getting in trouble. Easy, right?”

Amelia hesitated. She had already signed up to be there for the day anyway. And even though she had nothing to prove to these two girls, the peer pressure was taking effect. “And then you’ll give me back my things?”

“Details, Millie,” Ashley waved her off, “Are you going to be a good little student, or not?”

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 21

Amelia knew she shouldn’t say it, especially since she was supposed to have authority over these girls in terms of both seniority and the job that she was here for. She could only ignore a question so many times in a row, however, even though Ashley was definitely doing the same thing. 

“Sure,” Amelia said. 

She could do that, right? It had already been established that the schoolgirl outfit did wonders in terms of making her look younger. If anything, the biggest hurdle was the emotional one; everyone was going to view her as a thirteen year old, which was a pretty solid blow to her dignity. But the damage was already done, and she’d rather play Ashley’s insulting game if it meant that Amelia would have an easier time setting this all straight at the end of the day.

“And what’s your name?” Ashley crossed one leg over the other and gave her a pointed look, “Make sure you smile. We don’t want you all pouty on your first day of school.”

For a moment, Amelia did the opposite. Her lips tightened in frustration. Not only was it annoying when someone else told her to smile, but she could already see how Ashley was trying to push her luck. The only reason Amelia complied was due to the thought that it wouldn’t be long before she’d be rid of these senior girls. As mortifying as it was going to be to attend an intermediate class and have everyone there assume that she belonged, it would at least be easy to sit quietly in the back and run out the clock. That sounded better than spending another minute with Ashley and Claire.

Forcing a smile on her face that ended up looking a little dorky and awkward from reluctant effort, she said, “My name is Millie.”

“Oh, this is going to be SO much fun!” Ashley giggled.

Claire ran her hand over Amelia’s completed braid. “Agreed. Now, are you ready for your first ever Westridge class, Millie?”

Assuming the girls would get on her case if she didn’t play the part, Amelia kept the unnatural smile as she said, “Of course I am. Do I have a schedule?” It would be nice if she knew what was in store for her for the rest of the afternoon. 

Ashley informed her that her first teacher of the day would have all the necessary materials. Without any further delays, the two ‘older’ girls got up from the sofa and beckoned for Amelia to do the same. Just like before, the dark haired office girl who started this whole thing took Amelia’s hand and laced their fingers together. In the name of progressing things without any more delays, Amelia didn’t protest in the slightest. Besides, she hadn’t argued about it earlier, so she could already imagine her alleged cousin feigning confusion at the sudden distaste. 

The hallways were far less crowded than they had been when Amelia had been taken into the study room. Good news, fewer people were around to notice the ‘new girl’ that would soon be a teaching assistant. Bad news, it meant she’d probably be the last one to class. Like a scene from a movie, there was a good chance everyone else would already be seated upon her arrival, which would draw unnecessary attention to her arrival. Doubly so since she was being escorted by two girls. 

Thankfully, class hadn’t started yet. While Amelia’s fears about being the center of attention were true in terms of her being the last one in the room, most of the uniformed girls were busy chatting amongst themselves or getting some work done for either the impending lecture or perhaps for some other class to avoid their free time being wasted later. That didn’t mean she was invisible; several of the students noticed her right away, though there wasn’t much time to dwell on it. 

“You must be the new girl.” The teacher in the room was easily recognizable by her unique outfit compared to all the otherwise matching girls. Not to mention she was pretty clearly an adult. The woman extended her hand with a warm smile, “Welcome to Westridge Academy, young lady. I’m Mrs. Webb.”

Normally, Amelia would greet someone properly right away, but her right hand was currently held captive by Ashley’s. “Don’t be shy, Millie. Introduce yourself!” Only letting go after reinforcing the nickname, Ashley gave her an encouraging nudge. 

Lightly blushing at how she was instantly set up as the ‘nervous for her first day’ type, Amelia stepped forward and tried to do a little damage control. If she wanted to be seen as a serious teacher when all of this was said and done, then being confident as a ‘student’ was an important first step. “I’m Millie,” she said. Right away, she hit a snag in her plan. It was the first time she had ever called herself that unprompted by Ashley, resulting in the hint of a cringe before she collected herself and forced a meek smile onto her face. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Webb.”

“It’s very nice to meet you as well, Millie. And thank you for showing her the way, girls. Will you need a note for your teachers?”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for offering,” Ashley said, “I already got permission. Little Millie here is my cousin, so I was picked to give her the tour. And Claire is handling the prefect side of things, of course. She’ll make sure someone’s here to help Millie out after class, too.”

“Well, you two can run along, then. I need to get Millie here sorted before class starts.”

Ashley nodded. “Of course. See you soon, cuz.” She stepped forward to give Amelia an affectionate peck on the cheek. Pausing for just a moment, she whispered, “You better be smiling next time I see you. I’d hate for your phone to ‘accidentally’ fall in the toilet.”

“Bye, Millie!” Claire winked.

Just like that, both of the eighteen year olds turned and left the classroom. 

Amelia was left with a knot in her stomach. Was all of this a huge mistake? The only reason she had agreed to keep up the charade was because she believed it was the path of least resistance that would lead towards getting her stuff back. Sitting through a few classes was something she had already signed herself up for before Ashley admitted what was really going on, so it was easier to justify following that through in her mind. But smiling? Amelia didn’t even know when she’d still see her fake cousin again. Was she supposed to plaster on some equally fake smile every time there was a chance they’d run into each other again?

“Mrs. Webb-” she began. Maybe it was better to cut her losses. Now that Ashley wasn’t there to intercept her, there was a better chance of getting to the office and coming clean. And, while she had originally promised to not get the girls in trouble, Amelia was a lot more keen to go back on her word now that Ashley had passed on the offer to end everything a few minutes ago.

The teacher before her had meant what she had said about getting things done before class, however, which was about to make Amelia falter in her efforts to speak up. 

“I have some things for you at my desk, Millie. Please follow me.” Mrs. Webb walked away in the opposite direction of the two girls who had just gone on their way, leaving Millie no choice but to follow. It was either that, or be left standing in the middle of the room and risk being stared at by all the students in the room. 

As she met the woman at her desk in the corner of the room, Millie realized that this was actually better. A private conversation would be a lot easier when she wasn’t dead center to potentially draw more attention to herself. “Umm, there’s something-”

“Ms. Roberts,” the woman said, “I was informed that your personal possessions have not arrived yet. So, in the meantime, you’ve been issued a standard academy binder for your studies. Unlike our uniforms, it’s not required, but it does have an efficient organizational system for your classes. We highly recommend that new students try it for at least two weeks before deciding to make a switch.”

“But-”

“Millie, please don’t interrupt. We’re already behind schedule as is. I do expect my students to be punctual every day, which brings us to this-” she picked up a small book from her desk with the school’s insignia on the front cover, “-The school’s Code of Conduct. I do hope you looked at the online version before today, but I would carve out some time to read the book cover to cover. In my experience, girls who skim it or don’t read it at all are the ones that end up with a mountain of infractions over their first few weeks. Trust me, it will be better in the long run if you take the time at the beginning and save yourself some trouble . . .”

What came next was a total surprise. “. . . Especially a girl with your record.”

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 22

“My what?” Amelia asked. 

“You heard me,” Mrs. Webb said, “One thing you need to know about this school, Millie, is that we excel at communication. Administrators, teachers, and even prefects have a well organized filing system for every student here that we can all access. Not everything is visible to everyone, but the relevant details are shared across the board. For example, it’s not just the office that knows about your issues with authority. I make a point to check up on every new student of mine before she steps foot in my classroom, so I wouldn’t bother playing dumb.”

Amelia’s mind was racing. What was this woman talking about?! 

And then it hit her. Or, more accurately, a recent memory surfaced. Back when she was in Ms. Song’s office, the stern advisor had mentioned how Amelia was barely passing her classes back at her old school. When she had still been under the assumption that this was all just a vivid showcase of how a new girl might spend her first day at the academy, Amelia had made the connection that perhaps she was being treated like a difficult girl who had been shipped here by rich parents who thought it was the best solution. Now that Mrs. Webb mentioned another piece of false history, Amelia finally remembered a crucial detail that had eluded her so far:

She had faxed her information to the school instead of submitting it online.

Ashley had played nice on the first day, and ‘helpfully’ suggested a specific time for Amelia to send things to the office. Although Ashley had claimed at the time that she had no idea who was working then, that could easily have been a lie. For all Amelia knew, the smirking girl simply shredded the form in favor of inputting her own information into the system. But then, why did she ask for Amelia to send anything in the first place?

Either way, this was a lot worse than she originally thought now that the pieces were coming together. The school thought she was some troublesome girl who could barely pass her classes! In a way, that was almost more insulting than everyone thinking that she was thirteen. Amelia was an amazing student, then and now, and suggesting otherwise was like saying water wasn’t wet.

“Please, Mrs. Webb. I’m not-”

“Millie. Proper ladies do not speak out of turn, and this is your last warning. I’d hate for you to receive an infraction during your very first class, especially when the academy is the perfect opportunity for you to have a fresh start. Not another word. Do you understand?”

Just like that, Amelia’s fire was gone. Her history of being a good student left her thoroughly unprepared for what it felt like to be chastised by a teacher. Parting her lips in surprise, she almost blurted out what her adult self would say in an attempt to diffuse the situation. Instead, she simply nodded her head. She could only imagine how pathetic the gesture looked, but also didn’t know if answering the question was allowed when the directive had been not to speak.

As if reading her mind, Mrs. Webb said, “You are permitted to speak when spoken to, Millie. For example, do you have something to say about the binder and the Code of Conduct I’m giving you?”

Feeling a blush coming on, Millie awkwardly murmured, “Thank you . . .”

“That’s better. Now then, this is the Mathematics textbook you’ll be using for both this grade and the next. Your class schedule is in the binder, as is the syllabus for my class. Based on your old transcript and the results of your aptitude test, I set your current grade to 85. If you perform well over the next few weeks, we may discuss whether or not that starting number can be raised. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

NO. It didn’t. Amelia wanted to scream. She had never gotten below a 90 before university, and starting with a B made her instantly frustrated. Instead of fighting back, however, she simply nodded again. “Yes, Mrs. Webb,” she said, remembering the lecture from ‘Ms. Song’ about speaking properly. The grade didn’t matter, since none of this was real. 

After another few points about expectations, Amelia was told to find a seat. 

In her initial vision of observing classes at the academy, she had pictured herself sitting at the back of the room in a unique spot that would separate her from the other students despite the fact that she was wearing a uniform. That clearly wasn’t going to be the case now that she was assumed to be an actual transfer student. She didn’t even have the option to sit in the back row, as those seats were already claimed by girls who no doubt coveted the distance from any given teacher. While Amelia was normally the opposite of those girls–a front row type–she just wanted to blend in and get through the day.

All the side desks were also claimed, probably for similar reasons the back row was full. Private or public school, people liked their personal space. Amelia did, too, especially when she was about to be surrounded by a bunch of younger girls that were getting a mortifying first impression of her. At this point, she was pretty sure Westridge was no longer an option to teach at. The older girls would hear stories from Ashley and Claire, and surely at least one of the intermediate girls would recognize her later on once she had her mature image back in place. 

She had been totally screwed out of the perfect job. 

One of the nearby girls gave her a friendly smile as she sat down. Amelia grimaced, but managed to turn the expression into a half-hearted smile at the last second. The girl was ten years younger than her, which was all kinds of awkward. To them, Amelia was a peer, which meant she was stuck ignoring everyone or playing the part. Either way, it was a lie by omission about who she really was, but she was obviously going to go with the former option. Keep to herself. One, because she had no interest in acting more than she needed to. Two, because she was nervous about unfairly lashing out due to her pent up frustration with her ‘cousin.’ The last thing Amelia needed was some peppy girl trying to befriend her. 

Although Amelia was bitter about being trapped as a schoolgirl, it was actually a relief when Mrs. Webb started teaching right away. It would be a lot easier to quietly blend in when she didn’t have to talk to anyone. 

Opening her book to the page everyone was instructed to turn to, Amelia found a sheet of scratch paper in her binder and began working on Practice Problem 3b with the rest of the class. Thankfully, it wasn’t a quiz or test day, as some of the finer details of graphs and equations had been lost to her over the years. The last thing the recent college grad needed was a less than perfect grade that was a result of not being surrounded by this stuff every day like when she was younger. Even the problem they were given made her pulse race a little bit.

It was a graphing problem. Amelia could still solve the average equation in her sleep, but this was different. Suddenly feeling a little warm, though she doubted it was the blazer, she flipped back a few pages to find a formula and/or an example that would spark her memory. ‘Oh God,’ she thought to herself. Nervously glancing up, she was relieved to see Mrs. Webb at the front of the room. The last thing Amelia needed was the strict teacher roaming the room and seeing that Amelia had no idea what she was doing. 

According to the aptitude test, this was supposed to be one of her strongest subjects, and yet she was totally floundering. This is the kind of stuff she would have brushed up on as a teacher before leading a class, but jumping in with no review whatsoever left her woefully underprepared to solve even one problem. 

“Lyra, would you care to show your answer on the board?” Mrs. Webb finally said.

Amelia let out a quiet sigh of relief. At least the stern woman wasn’t going with the ‘spotlight on the new girl’ trope. 

Her page was still almost entirely blank, but the beginning of the chapter had given her a few fragments of information from the hasty skim. Now racing the young brunette who was walking to the front of the classroom, Amelia was determined to get to the answer before it was given to her. Doing some quick mental math, she jotted down her solution and drew a curve on the graph before subtly putting her pencil down.

‘Please be right,’ Amelia prayed, as she watched Lyra step up to the chalkboard.

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 23

Dead wrong.

There had been a fleeting moment where Amelia hoped that the girl had screwed up, followed by a pang of guilt as she realized she was wishing for a thirteen year old to be publicly wrong just so Amelia wouldn’t have to deal with the personal embarrassment of being so incorrect herself. But Lyra had the right answer, and Amelia’s graph didn’t even come close to what the figure was supposed to be. 

At least Mrs. Webb hadn’t told the students to exchange papers. That was pretty common in Amelia’s public school childhood; either that, or passing their work forward. The last thing Amelia needed was for one of her ‘peers’ to see how she apparently had no idea what she was doing. Instead, the teacher jumped into the day’s lesson. Starting with a few minutes of review, she broke down the problem they all just worked through. 

Amelia was in full on student mode. Taking all her personal knowledge, as well as the tidbits from her recent skimming, she paid close attention and took aggressive notes as Ms. Webb went through the equation step by step. It made perfect sense once everything was slowed down and taken apart, and fragments of old knowledge started coming back to Amelia along the way. By the end, she wished she could try another problem on her own, but it was time to move on. Even the ‘new’ material, however, was probably easier for the rest of the class than it was for Amelia. She was being thrown right into an ongoing curriculum, which made following along tricky despite how hard she was trying.

When class was over, Amelia found herself immediately thrown into a completely different kind of gauntlet. As the new girl, she naturally drew attention to herself without even trying. No longer bound by the strict quietness Ms. Webb compelled with her presence at the front of the room, the nearest girl hopped up from her chair and walked over. “Hey, Millie! Welcome to Westridge. Don’t worry, we’re all more fun outside of class!”

“Umm, hey,” Amelia replied. Belatedly remembering Ashley’s directive, she pushed a small smile onto her face in case her ‘cousin’ had circled back to check up on her. “I’m-” she hesitated. No, saying she was observing would be stupid. Clearly everyone thought she was a transfer student, and there was no reason to explain it to a random classmate. “I mean, class wasn’t too bad.” She just awkwardly blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

“Uh huh. Sure,” the girl said, with a knowing smile, “Says the super stressed girl.”

Had she been that transparent? Obviously so, if an intermediate student could read her so easily. “It was just a lot,” Amelia admitted.

“Public school girl? Sorry, not like that. I mean, whenever non prep school girls transfer here, it’s like skipping half a school year and then being told to catch up and keep up.” Excessively straightening her back and tilting her chin up, she said, “Here at Westridge, we strive for excellence in every endeavor.”

Amelia couldn’t help but chuckle at the mockingly pretentious tone. “Sounds about right.” Looking back, Ms. Song had definitely said something similar about ‘excellence.’

“Anyway, I’m Piper,” the girl said, “Where are you going next?”

Home. If only. Amelia’s mind had been quite busy absorbing as much math as possible, and she had long forgotten anything about what the rest of her day looked like. Grabbing the binder she had been given, belatedly realizing that she wasted an opportunity to correct the nickname to her full name, Amelia said, “Earth/Physical Science?” 

“Cool, me too. I’ll walk you!”

Amelia wanted to decline the offer, but didn’t know how. This girl was years her junior, and clearly believed that they were the same age. Plus Amelia really didn’t want to face another teacher berating her. If Piper led the way, there was less of a chance that Amelia would get lost and arrive late. Scooping up the heavy pile of books, Amelia made it all of two steps out of the classroom with the girl before finding herself face to face with another three girls with matching hairstyles. She vaguely recognized them from the class they just had. 

“Hey, Piper!” The tallest girl, a blonde standing in the middle of the trio exclaimed. Her lilting tone and smug smile said it all: popular girl with a mean streak. “Introduce us to your new friend?”

Piper seemed to immediately shrink. Gone was the fun, friendly girl from just a minute ago. “This is Millie,” she quietly said. 

“Good enough,” the blonde shrugged, “Run along, now.”

For a moment, it looked like Piper wanted to say something back. Instead, she just turned to Amelia with a mumbled, “Sorry.” Then, doing as she was told, she scurried down the hall, away from both Millie and the group of girls. 

“Millie. Cute name. I’m Summer.”

“Umm, okay?” Amelia replied. Girls like this might have been a threat once upon a time, but she was way too old for posturing and unnecessary drama. Summer was the kind of student that Amelia would have enjoyed to take down a peg or two. Not in a vindictive or excessive way; it was more that girls like this really needed to get over themselves and come back to reality. Of course, Amelia wasn’t being seen as an adult at the moment, which complicated things. Also, it was beyond unfair for a teenager to be that tall. Per uniform rules, Summer also wasn’t wearing heels, which meant all that height was natural. “Look, whatever this is, I’m not interested. I have to get to class.” The first half of her dismissal was the most adult Amelia had sounded recently, until undermining herself at the end.

“Not interested? Summer pouted, “That’s not very nice. You’re the new girl, aren’t you? Don’t you want to make a few friends on your first day?”

“No, thanks,” Amelia replied, “I’ll stick with Piper. Or anyone else, honestly.”

“Rude. Last chance, Millie. Do you want to be my friend?”

Not even a little bit. Settling on something slightly more polite, since Summer was doing the obnoxious girl thing where technically there isn’t anything wrong with what’s being said. Instead, it’s all about hint and tone, while being able to selectively feign innocence if ever called out. “Ask me later,” she said. Or never, since there was only so much time left before she was done with this nightmare of a day. 

“Shame,” Summer said. Waving down some nearby girl, she said, “Hey, ponytail. Miss Prefect.” When the girl actually began walking over, Summer added, “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

The girl was Asian, though her features made it difficult to make an educated guess beyond that. She was also clearly from a few grades up, based on her demeanor alone. “It’s Maxine,” she said, “May I help you?”

“Mm hmm,” Summer nodded, “Millie here is wearing make-up. I tried to tell her it’s against the rules–I mean, she’s literally holding the handbook–but apparently she thinks she can get off easy as a transfer student or something.”

“Summer’s just trying to get me in trouble since I won’t play her stupid games,” Amelia said. It was one thing to let Ashley get away with her lies. But this girl? No way. Unlike the situation with her ‘cousin,’ Amelia had nothing to lose by coming clean about cringey girl drama. 

Maxine just sighed. 

Pulling out a slip of pink paper from her blazer pocket, she jotted down a few things. “Summer. You’re getting an infraction for disrespect. Please address teachers and prefects properly, even if you have yet to meet them. Would you like some examples of phrases you could use?”

“No, thank you, Miss Maxine,” Summer said. A pretty forced, neutral tone. “May I go to class?”

“Of course. And I can’t write you up for being a tattletale, but I wouldn’t encourage it. Us prefects are more than capable of doing our jobs.”

“Yes, Miss Maxine.”

With that, Summer sauntered away with her girls in tow. Still fairly cool and confident, despite being chastised. Although it wasn’t too surprising, considering the type that she was.

“Thanks,” Amelia said. She didn’t really need the protection of some high schooler, but it was nice all the same that she didn’t have to deal with Summer and company any more. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Maxine replied. She pulled out another pink slip. “Unfortunately, I do need to give you an infraction as well. Make-up is against school policy for girls your age.” 

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 24

In terms of academy rules, Amelia wasn’t surprised. She was sure it was stated somewhere in the handbook Mrs. Webb had given her before class. Trading her heels for the uncomfortable flats, and now this? It was an easy theme to pick up on–younger academy girls had stricter rules to follow as they developed, and older ones had more freedom. That’s how it was at most schools, of course, but a prestigious preparatory academy like this clearly heightened such things. 

When Amelia had been preparing for the day, however, she had been an adult preparing for a day of observations. Now that she was stuck as a student, however, what could she say? It was clear what Maxine was doing. She knew Summer was right, but couldn’t give the popular girl the satisfaction. But Maxine also didn’t want to let Amelia off the hook, so she waited until the other girls left before reprimanding her for the very thing summer had tattled on. 

“Maxine, I’m not even supposed to be here . . .” Amelia said. Maybe she could get through to this girl. It would at least be easier than talking to a teacher who apparently had read the file of lies Ashley had created. 

“Miss Maxine,” she corrected, “And I know. No one likes being transferred in the middle of the year. Look, I know it’s your first day, but I can’t make exceptions. If I were you, I’d read the uniform section of that book tonight, and then reread it once or twice. That’s the easiest part to mess up when you’re first starting out.”

“But-”

“The rest is mostly common sense, though I’d also recommend going through the whole handbook when you get a chance. You really should have done so before starting here; perhaps your parents didn’t tell you.”

Or, in other words, Maxine was being nice and offering the benefit of the doubt. Amelia was slightly relieved when the initial ‘I know’ didn’t mean that Maxine was part of Ashley’s team, but the rest didn’t make it sound like she would believe Amelia’s story that wasn’t actually a story. “It’s not that,” Amelia said, “I’m actually-”

“Millie.” The awkward nickname was said more pointedly than anything before it. “You’ll get a little slack on your first week, but please don’t push your luck. Arguing with prefects or teachers can earn you a similar infraction to the one Summer just received. Consider this a warning. Do you understand?”

Quietly accepting her fate, Amelia muttered, “Yes, Miss Maxine.” This girl looked to be around Ashley’s and Claire’s age. And yet, Amelia was allowing herself to be treated like the thirteen year old girl everyone somehow believed her to be. She couldn’t help but blush at the resigned words that had just escaped her lips; deep down, she knew that not speaking up was more or less confirming her student status to Maxine, but it didn’t feel like she had any other choice at the moment. 

“Better,” Maxine nodded. It was more encouraging than patronizing, but it was impossible to not hear at least a little bit of the latter whether she meant it or not. “Now, we don’t believe in sending girls off to fix things like this during lecture hours. Missing class would be a detriment to your education. For something like this . . . ” she opened her binder and pulled out a green slip of paper from one of the pockets that was the same size as the pink infraction one. “What’s your last name?”

“Mar-” Amelia cut herself off. Her real last name, Martin, wasn’t on anything official. Ashley had made sure of that, when picking and choosing which parts of the paper registration form had made it onto the school’s online system. Once again going along with the false reality against her better judgment, she shifted to, “Roberts.”

“‘Mar-roberts?’ Can you spell that for me?”

“Just Roberts. Sorry. I thought of my middle name.”

“Margot?” Maxine guessed, “And oh, that’s right. You’re Ashley’s cousin. I remember her mentioning that a relative was starting this week.”

Amelia was oblivious to the fact that ‘compulsive liar’ was part of her file, but it was slowly becoming a reality as she kept up the act with omissions and reluctant agreements. She was already suffering through ‘Millie,’ and the middle name the prefect suggested wasn’t exactly her favorite either. “Marissa,” she said. Not even the same starting letter as her real one, but it was prettier than the alternative in her eyes. 

Maxine marked a few things on the green slip, then handed it to Amelia. “Here. Keep this with you, and show it to anyone else who tries to write you up for the same thing.”

It made sense. The pink slips stayed with the prefects, but a duplicate like this would keep a student from getting in trouble multiple times in a row. Disrespect was obviously a new infraction every time, but uniform violations were different. That was what was circled on the form for Amelia–‘uniform violation’–as well as the girls’ names on their appropriate lines and a quick note about the make-up. 

“Okay,” Amelia replied. What else was there to say? She tucked the green slip into the binder Mrs. Webb had issued her. The last thing Amelia needed was for Summer, or any other classmate for that matter, to get on her case about a first day infraction. 

“Do you know where your next class is?”

Not at all. That’s what she had been relying on Piper for. “No,” she admitted, “I have science next. Umm, earth and physical; Room 304,” she clarified, after glancing down at the schedule showcased behind the clear sleeve on the cover of her binder. “Can you point me in the right direction?”

“And risk being late?” Maxine asked, “I’ll escort you, Millie. I’d hate for you to get in trouble twice on your first day here.” 
 
Amelia was tempted to brush off the offer. She was an ADULT. Not a barely teenage student. But she also had no idea where anything was yet, save that her next class was probably on the third floor of some building. And there was a distinct lack of students in the halls now that a few minutes had passed; most of them were probably already in class, save for the one or two stragglers. Despite her distaste for what Ashley had pulled, Amelia was a good student. Being late wasn’t in her nature. “Thank you, Maxine. Miss Maxine!” she quickly corrected. God, it was so weird calling an eighteen year old girl that. 

Luckily, Maxine seemed more amused than judgmental. After a light chuckle, she did make a point to say, “Try to get in the habit. Like I said, your grace period only lasts so long as a new student.”

“Yes, Miss Maxine,” Amelia said. It still felt weird. 

With an affirmative nod towards the phrase, Maxine gestured towards the direction they needed to go. As they walked, she explained some of the academy’s layout. Math and Science shared a building, as did History and Literature. There was a vague separation of grades by classroom floors, but it wasn’t a perfect system due to the upperclassmen having a less linear schedule. Intermediate girls, however, all pretty much followed the same structure until they were sixteen or so. 

As Amelia guessed, her science class was on the third floor. Thankfully, they made it to the classroom thirty seconds before she would have otherwise been late, so Maxine didn’t have to escort her in and explain things like she had offered to do on the walk up. Regardless, Amelia felt like the center of attention anyway. She was still the new girl, and had to go through the same process with the science teacher that she did in her previous class. 

With the science textbook added to her collection, she felt more like her younger self than ever. With two heavy books, a binder, and the academy handbook in her arms, it was easy to flash back to middle school when she would be stuck carrying a similar armful of things when there were a few back to back classes where it was impossible to make it back to her locker without being late. 

Westridge didn’t seem much different, based on the stacks the other girls had on their desks as Amelia walked towards a free chair near the back. If anything, this school might be worse–instead of lockers in nearby hallways, they would have to trek all the way back to their dorms to exchange materials. 

It wasn’t until she was sitting down that Amelia realized that Summer was at the desk behind her. The two other girls that had been with the popular blonde before were in the back row as well, seated on either side of her. 

Unfortunately, Amelia had already set her things down, and it was too late to change course. Class was starting, so she nervously sat and hoped for the best. 

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 25

The first half of the science class came and went with no difficulties. 

Amelia was grateful this wasn’t the type of school that put new students at the front of the room to introduce them. The last thing she needed was a whole classroom looking at her transformed self and sealing in their minds that she was indeed thirteen. Although at this point, it didn’t matter. Her only choices regarding Westridge now was whether she wanted to leave and never look back after being demeaned all day, or permanently dye her hair and go by her /real/ middle name in an effort to avoid recognition by any of the teachers, administrators, or students if she could somehow still land the amazing job after all the fuckery Ashley caused in the office. 

As for class, it was mostly a lecture. While jumping in mid-semester put Amelia at a disadvantage, she was still intelligent enough to follow along for the most part. Science was always one of her worst subjects, but it was more the high school classes that kicked her ass when she was younger. This kind made a lot more sense. Stuck in the role she had committed to going along with for the day, Amelia actually took notes in the binder given to her. It’s not like she was actually interested in the class she hadn’t taken in a decade, but simply sitting there and doing nothing could potentially get her noticed by the teacher up front. 

Having Summer behind her, however, made it difficult to focus. Not only had Amelia refused to flinch towards the popular girl’s intimidation tactics, but she had also indirectly gotten her in trouble with one of the prefects. In reality, Summer had gotten herself in trouble due to the way she called Maxine over, but that’s not how teenage minds worked. Since the tall blonde would have a hard getting back at Maxine, the easier girl to blame would be Amelia. 

The problem was, Summer wasn’t doing anything. She was poised to attempt any number of mean girl antics, and flanked with her friends to boot, but nothing was happening. And, due to how she was positioned directly behind Amelia, there was no way Amelia could keep an eye on her.

Amelia stayed on edge for the whole hour, half heartedly taking notes and following along in the textbook when necessary. She hated that a girl so many years her junior was making her nervous, but it’s not like she had much power to defend herself. Everyone in the room thought she was thirteen, and she was also shorter than Summer and outnumbered three to one if it came to that. Although perhaps that was the perk of this being her ‘first day.’ Too many eyes would be on her, meaning Summer wouldn’t have a chance to corner her or get away with anything in a quiet classroom.

Apparently Westridge didn’t do bells. It took Amelia until the end of her second class to notice, but they were simply dismissed by the teacher instead of a jarring outside source announcing that it was time to move on to something else. As she and the rest of the class stood up and began collecting their things, Summer pounced. 

Quickly and quietly racing forward out of nowhere, she grabbed and twisted one of Amelia’s ears while simultaneously hissing in the other one. “You do not cross me, Millie. EVER. Got it?”

Gasping in both shock and pain, Amelia acted purely on instinct. She slammed her elbow back somewhere into Summer’s torso and turned enough to get a good kick on one of the girl’s shins. “Back off!!” Amelia yelled. 

Clearly Summer hadn’t expected her to fight back. The girl let out a gasp of her own as she was struck and momentarily winded from the blow, and let go to take a reflexive step back from the follow-up kick. “Fucking. Bitch.” The flicker of weakness on her face all but vanished, probably due to having her cronies nearby who expected their leader to always be fearless. 

Amelia was a bit of a mess herself, but put on a similar act. She wasn’t going to let some preppy brat push her around, but also . . . could Amelia get in legal trouble for what she just did? It was purely self defense, but she had still landed two physical blows on a younger girl. Although it was tough to think about such things when she was still bracing herself for a catfight that might lead to something worse than an elbow unless she simply allowed herself to take whatever was thrown at her without fighting back.

Thankfully, the decision was taken out of her hands. “HEY.” Their science teacher had been rather proper throughout the entire class, but her whole tone and demeanor shifted as she snapped at the girls. “What is going on back there?” She stormed towards Amelia and Summer, and any students in her way scrambled to part for her. Half the uniformed girls still in the classroom escaped the classroom, not wanting to be present for such a confrontation, but there were plenty who remained to watch from the sidelines and have something to gossip about later and/or so they wouldn’t be the ones who missed out.

Summer piped up right away. “The new girl just attacked me for no reason!”

“I did not!” Amelia exclaimed. The nerve of this girl. “Summer started it. She fucking grabbed my ear, and-”

“Millie. Language.” The teacher held up her hand. Rather than continuing to address either or the girls, she looked at those standing nearby. “Anybody?” she asked. 

One of the popular blonde’s friends spoke up first. “Umm, technically Summer started it?” It was the last thing Amelia expected her to say. That is, until the girl went on. “I mean, she was going to ask you a question about tonight’s assignment, and accidentally nudged Millie’s shoulder on the way.”

Summer picked it up from there. “And then she went off on me! Look, Millie, I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

“They’re lying!” Millie gasped. It was so much like her own teenage years. She had never been a target of such things, but it was pretty common for girlfriends to stick together. And, in this case, to cleverly put just enough blame on Summer to make it seem like they weren’t choosing sides. “Summer just-”

“Summer,” the teacher interrupted, “Is one of my best students. And she’s the only one who has apologized so far.”

“But-”

“Oh, my God- Sorry. Oh, my goodness,” Summer said, “My leg is bleeding.”

Barely. Her leg was barely bleeding. But Amelia’s kick had connected enough to tear the skin just enough for a single drop of blood to trickle out. Visual evidence that Summer was the ‘victim.’

“Apologize, Millie.”

The woman’s demand was beyond unfair. She wasn’t even giving Amelia a chance to defend herself. Hadn’t anyone else seen?! Or were they all too scared of Summer? After all, siding with the new girl had far fewer benefits when it was clear that Summer was top of the food chain in this particular grade. 

One day. Like Mrs. Webb’s accusations, and Maxine’s write-up, and now this, there was still no benefit to pushing back. Once again choosing the path of least resistance, Amelia muttered, “I’m sorry, Summer.” She half expected the apology to drag on into specifics, but there was still one afternoon class to go. 

Most of the girls were dismissed, so they could get to their next class on time and so the classroom could empty out for the students that were on the way. Everyone except Amelia. The science teacher told her to stay and come to the desk up front. 

Amelia dared a glance towards Summer, but the tall blonde didn’t so much as smirk as she left the room. Probably wasn’t worth the risk, when she was apparently one of the ‘best students.’ In that sense, it seemed crazy that Summer would do something so aggressive in such a populated room, but they had also been in the back and the bitchy girl had probably approached in a way that looked innocent to anyone who wasn’t watching carefully at the time.

As the room cleared out, Amelia had to bite her tongue as she approached the desk. Path of least resistance. Though Summer and company weren’t around to insist on their side of the story, Amelia didn’t bother trying to retell her perspective. Besides, it was starting to feel juvenile to argue that ‘she started it.’ 

“It’s always a coin toss with new girls, isn’t it?” the teacher sighed. Amelia still didn’t know her name, as only the class was on her schedule and she had been told by the science teacher that the syllabus was online. Amelia couldn’t remember if it had been mentioned earlier when they met. 

The woman proceeded to open the top drawer and pull out a stack of those damn pink slips. 

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 26

Amelia was fuming by the time she left the classroom. 

She couldn’t blow up at the teacher for risk of getting into even more trouble. Instead, she merely swallowed her pride, and stood by the desk as she was given three separate infractions. Three. For instigating a fight, for lying, and for swearing. The former was the most serious, as was explained to her. The others, however, would begin to carry more weight for repeat transgressions. For a girl who had never gotten into trouble at any school, ever, it was a lot to handle despite knowing that she wasn’t really a student.

The moment she stepped out into the hall, Amelia’s apologetic face disappeared in favor of a pissed off scowl. She was tempted to track down Summer and give the girl a piece of her mind. However, that held all the same problems as before–Amelia was an adult, even if no one at Westridge believed it. If she verbally went off on the girl, it might cause problems after Amelia got herself out of the role she was currently stuck in. And, on top of that, Summer was apparently a star pupil with girlfriends who would back up her lies. If Amelia targeted her now, especially after receiving an infraction for starting a ‘fight,’ it would just land Amelia in more trouble. 

Her real anger should be focused on Ashley, but Amelia had no idea how to find the eighteen year old who started all this. She could be anywhere, plus the uniforms made every girl look kind of the same when this was Amelia’s first day. The next thing on the schedule was a study hour, then dinner. Ms. Song had explained how the hour before lunch and the hour before dinner could be allotted to any number of things. Some girls signed up for extracurriculars; some opted for the extra study time. While far more strict than public schools, the academy certainly offered more freedoms than the nonstop classes she had grown up with. 

Unfortunately, Amelia wouldn’t get the chance to enjoy the hour. If it were up to her, she would spend the whole time breathing after a frustrating and demeaning afternoon. However, she was stuck in the remedial courses for both Science and History. That was also different from girl to girl. In her case, there were two academic subjects from the aptitude test that she did poorly on. According to Ms. Song, the school approached such shortcomings by paralleling the catch-up work and the ongoing courses. As in, Amelia would have to attend the science class she just sat through, as well as a second hour of the remedial content. And be expected to keep up with both. 

Finally, there was religion. While it wasn’t weighted nearly as much as the core subjects, it was still viewed as a historically important requirement at the boarding school. Amelia would be issued materials to read on her own time, and had also been signed up for a course on Sunday mornings. 

It was a lot. 

There was a reason Amelia had planned on using Westridge as a stepping stone. The pay and benefits were good, and the school opened a lot of doors for students and faculty alike, but it was not a place she’d see herself at long term. If this is how ‘intermediate students,’ as middle school girls were labeled here, were treated, Amelia could only imagine the course load the older girls had to go through. She much preferred her upbringing in comparison. 

“Millie Roberts?” An older woman was waiting for her in the empty classroom Amelia had been directed towards. A prefect had noticed the aimless wandering of a new girl, and had pointed her in the right direction. “Good afternoon. I’m Mrs. Fletcher, your private teacher for the day.”

Amelia had considered not going. The office was still open, and nothing was standing in the way of her marching over there and trying to clear this whole thing up. Emphasis on ‘trying.’ The fact that every single person so far had believed that she was thirteen made Amelia feel self conscious in all kinds of ways. And then, instead of the perfect student she truly was, now every teacher viewed her as a transfer student who was barely passing most of her classes. Would anyone believe the claim that she was actually a college graduate? Or would that just make things worse with Ashley, the girl who had stashed away Amelia’s phone and ID–the only items that could prove the truth about who she was?

Against her better judgment, like usual, Amelia simply followed the schedule of the student everyone believed her to be. That was the best way to keep Ashley happy, and to avoid more trouble. Maybe her ‘cousin’ was happy about all this, but that didn’t mean Amelia was. “Whatever,” she replied to the woman. Not only did it make her sound like a moody teenager, but the attitude was more in line with the girl in her file than her actual self. 

“Okay, then.” Mrs. Fletcher didn’t flinch. She gestured to the front row, for Amelia to pick any of the open seats. “What would you like to work on, Millie?” She briefly explained the choice. They could do history in the morning and science in the afternoon, which would make each of the subjects go back to back with the regular classes, or they could do the reverse if Amelia would prefer. As a future student teacher herself, Amelia understood. Different learning styles. Either stick with the same subject while her mind was calibrated for it, or shift gears to freshen things up and stay engaged in a different way. 

She still had a bad taste in her mouth from the previous class, so it was an easy choice. “History,” Amelia said. It’s not like it mattered; this was the first and only remedial session she was going to have before leaving.

Though it was meant to catch her up, the hour of private teaching really showcased how much Amelia had forgotten. The big names and dates still stuck out in her mind, but her memory had dropped everything else over the years to make room for the things she learned in her high school and university classes. Mrs. Fletcher didn’t comment on how many times her gauging questions went without answer, but Amelia wasn’t actually a young teen. She could read the silent judgment and subtle worry all over the woman’s face. 

A lazy, troublesome public school girl. That’s all she saw Amelia as. 

By the time the lesson was over, the uniformed blonde’s brain felt like mush. The actual classes had already been a lot on top of being hit with the truth of Ashley’s game, but Amelia could hardly think straight after being barraged with history she was expected to retain for her retest on Friday. To round out the session, Mrs. Fletcher gave Amelia a small packet to complete. The pages were meant to review everything they had just gone over; the faux student was to try the whole thing by herself, and then use the textbook to find any answers she couldn’t remember. 

“That will be all, Millie,” Mrs. Fletcher said. She collected her materials, then added on, “Is there something you wish to say?”

Polite. Proper. “Yes, Mrs. Fletcher,” Amelia replied. It was already turning into habit after Ms. Song and everyone after her harped on how to appropriately address authority members on campus. “Thank you for the lesson.” 

“You’re very welcome, dear. Do you need help finding your way to the dining hall?”

“No, Mrs. Fletcher.”

The academic buildings might have been difficult to navigate. They all looked the same with their old stone, and a sea of uniformed girls had added a layer of chaos to the unfamiliar campus earlier. But the dining hall was impossible to miss; it was just one big room. Amelia was having trouble remembering when exactly her day would officially be over in terms of Ashley being satisfied. 

At the moment, admittedly, she was a little hungry. Breakfast was the last time Amelia had eaten, and it was a pretty early meal, too. Besides, that’s probably where she’d find her alleged cousin. She crossed the large courtyard between most of the main buildings, blushing a bit when she saw a cluster of other uniformed girls who were heading to dinner with unfettered arms. In contrast, Amelia was carrying a mountain of books. 

Maybe her dorm was better? If she could retrace her steps without someone’s help. Wait, and what if it was locked? Ashley hadn’t given her a key . . .

“Millie!” An enthusiastic voice off to her left called out. 

Amelia turned to see a brunette girl waving at her. At first glance, she thought it was one of her ‘classmates’ as she squinted to see the girl against the setting sun. As the brunette approached, however, Amelia realized that it was Claire. 

“Hey, brat,” Ashley’s co-conspirator smiled, “How was your first day?” 

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 27

Amelia ignored the patronizing term. 

After the longest and most frustrating afternoon of her life, it took all her effort just to smile back. While it was technically Ashley who insisted that Amelia have a good attitude when they next crossed paths, Amelia assumed that Claire would count herself as part of that directive. And after everything Amelia had gone through, the last thing she needed was some bullshit technicality making things difficult at the finish line. “It was fine,” Amelia said. That’s about as positive as she could describe the last few hours where every single person believed she was a young teenager without a second thought. 

There was no winning with either of the senior girls, apparently. Though Amelia had remembered to smile, Claire easily found something else to correct. “It was fine, Ms. Claire,” she said, “I’m a prefect, remember? Have you had a chance to read your academy handbook?”

Of course not. When would there have been time, when Amelia was supposed to be paying attention in every class? Also, it’s not like she had addressed Claire without the prefix. Was she seriously expected to tag every answer with the phrase? Or was Claire just trying to get a rise out of her? “I haven’t read the handbook yet, Ms. Claire,” Amelia said. Whatever. If that’s what the blonde wanted, that’s what she would get. 

“Better,” Claire nodded, “Anyway, I was sent to check on you. Do you want to come chat with Ashley about your performance today, or do you want to wait until after dinner?”

“Right now, Ms. Claire. Please.” Amelia tacked on the polite word in addition to the unnecessarily excessive use of the proper title. It was an obvious choice. Dinner at her apartment was hands down the preference. Not just because she had no desire to share a meal with a bunch of teenagers, but also because getting her stuff back and driving off campus was the first step to figuring out whether or not she could salvage this job or not. Whether she ended up at Westridge or not, she would absolutely find a way to make sure Ashley was punished for all of this. 

For now, however, Amelia would smile and play along. 

She half expected Claire to comment on her decision or pressure her to go to dinner in the name of prolonging Amelia’s stay, but she did neither of those things. Instead, Claire simply beckoned for her to follow. 

Amelia was jealous of the eighteen year old’s free hands. In contrast, her own arms were the most full they had been so far with all the things she had been handed over the afternoon. If it were a friend or family member, Amelia would absolutely ask for some help. But not Claire. The uniform and her experiences at the academy had been degrading enough. Amelia wouldn’t dare show weakness to one of the two girls that actually knew how old she was. 

Claire led her back towards the dorms. Amelia could have found the building herself, but was internally grateful to have someone who knew the way once they were inside. It’s not like there were twists and turns to navigate, but one walkthrough hadn’t been enough to get a good grasp of the layout. At first, she thought Amelia was being taken to Ashley’s place, until Claire mentioned how nice it would be for Amelia to settle in for the night after her first day.

“Umm, what?” Amelia asked. She stopped halfway down the hallway that suddenly seemed a lot more familiar despite how it looked pretty much the same as the rest of them. Surely Claire couldn’t be serious. 

“Come on, Millie,” Claire said. She paused a few steps after she realized Amelia was no longer awkwardly following. “You do want to spend some more time with your cousin, right?”

Amelia just sighed. No one was even here. Although she didn’t know that for sure with all the closed doors, it was dinnertime and there had been enough uniformed girls headed that way that Amelia assumed that’s where most students would be. “Of course I do, Ms. Claire,” she lied. Of course fucking Ashley would take one more opportunity to embarrass her. By ending the day in Amelia’s room that was probably just an empty one that Claire had access to with her prefect key. 

Claire just gave a sweet smile and nodded her head towards the other end of the hall, “Then let’s go, Millie.”

It wasn’t much farther to the room. Amelia followed Claire in, and wasn’t particularly surprised to see Ashley lounging on the bed like she owned the place. There was nothing ladylike about the way the dark haired girl had her legs positioned as she worked on something in a binder of her own. It took a conscious effort for Amelia to avoid looking up the girl’s skirt; she wasn’t even into girls outside of a bit of experimentation here and there in university, but the sheer amount of visible bare thigh was enough to unintentionally draw attention. Amelia averted her gaze after inadvertently checking out the eighteen year old for a fleeting moment, and only realized after stepping into the private bedroom that she had no idea where to even start. 

Ashley, on the other hand, was ready for her. “So, Millie,” she began. Just like Claire, echoing the nickname as much as possible. She sat up and closed her binder, setting it aside, “I thought you said you were a good student.”

Amelia hesitated. Her blush deepened when her first thought was ‘I am a good student.’ She managed to stop herself from actually saying it, since the last thing she needed to do was breathe more life into the role she had been stuck in all afternoon. Especially since she had already started feeling like a schoolgirl in just a matter of hours. She very much knew who she really was, of course, but she hadn’t been able to outwardly show it for quite some time. Instead, she let every single authority figure treat her like she was nothing more than a transfer student struggling to adapt to life at a boarding school. 

These two girls, however, knew who she really was. There was no reason to keep up the act. “Look, I played your stupid game. Now, give me back my things. Please.” 

“Millie, don’t you remember our deal?” Ashley asked. She cocked her head to the side, as if confused as to why Amelia would be making such demands. “You promised to be a good student. You said you could make it through the day without getting in trouble.”

Once again, Amelia paused. When Ashley first mentioned the good student thing, a similar thought had crossed Amelia’s mind. How did Ashley know? But then again, Claire was a prefect. Did Maxine mention something? Or did girls like Claire and Maxine somehow have immediate access to information like what happened in Amelia’s last class of the day? 

There were too many thoughts racing through her mind, and not enough time to sift through them. Wanting to say something rather than giving Ashley the satisfaction of rendering her speechless, Amelia just said, “I’m not even supposed to be here. This is all-”

“But you are here, Millie,” Ashley cut her off, “And you’d think a girl your age could handle following a few simple rules. Seriously, four infractions? In one afternoon? I can’t even imagine how poorly you’d do if you had classes in the morning, too.”

“That’s not fair. Summer-”

“You’re going to blame a thirteen year old instead of taking responsibility for your actions? Not very mature, Millie.”

“It’s AMELIA. Look, Ashley-”

“No, it’s not. You’re my little cousin, Millie. At least, until you can prove that you’re capable of being a mature girl. Now, you’re going to sit right here and read the academy handbook from cover to cover. Do you understand?” she gestured to the room’s small desk. 

“Ashley, you’re not listening. I’m not actually a student, and I want to go home.”

“You are home. This is your room. We went over this earlier, remember? If you want to be an adult again, you need to prove that you can be a proper student. So far, you’ve failed spectacularly at that endeavor. Haven’t you?”

The truth was, Amelia couldn’t remember all the details of her earlier conversation with Ashley and Claire. She had been too blindsided and self conscious about the fact that everyone so easily believed that she was thirteen, which had made it difficult to fully pay attention as she was strung along by the girls’ logic and conditions. “It’s not like that . . . ” was all she could say. “And I’m not a student. You-”

“Yes, you are. Millie, look at you. You’re dressed up just like all the other girls, you’re registered here, and you clearly have some behavior that needs to be corrected. Think about it. What makes you any different than the other students who are sent here?”

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 28

‘Because I’m not actually thirteen!’

The exclamation was on the tip of Amelia’s tongue, but she had enough sense to know that getting outwardly emotional would simply prove Ashley’s point. Maybe this was still some elaborate joke at her expense. The two eighteen year olds were clearly power tripping, since it had become clear that Amelia was relying on them to put an end to all this. Instead of going home and having dinner at her apartment, she was going to have to stay even longer and read the handbook. 

Was that going to be it? Or would they next insist that she needed to study? Amelia could imagine plenty of ways her predicament could be drawn out, especially since she had managed to bomb half the placement test and subsequently somehow got in trouble all afternoon despite just trying to keep her head down and survive the day. 

No matter what, one thing was certain–she had to act like none of this bothered her. That tended to take the fun out of things for most young women who liked to play games. “You know why I’m different,” Amelia said, as flatly as she was able without sounding like a bitch about it, “And fine, I’ll read the handbook.”

Ashley just smiled. “Cover to cover.”

It took a conscious effort not to groan. Plenty of authority figures, administrators and prefects alike, had gone over the ‘proper girl’ thing. “Yes, Ashley,” Amelia replied, “I’ll read the handbook cover to cover.” 

“Good. Claire, you have snacks stashed away in your prefect suite, right? I don’t think little Millie will have time for dinner tonight. And I doubt she even wants to go to the dining hall, anyway.

Ashley was correct. 

“Of course!” Claire hopped up. She turned towards Amelia to explain, “As you’ll read, meals have to be eaten in the dining hall. Certain snacks are permitted, however, for both prefects and students. Ask nicely, and I can go get you something!”

Just like so many times before, Amelia chose the path of least resistance. Being dismissive towards Ashley’s friend wasn’t going to get her anywhere, especially since Claire was a prefect who could easily write up an infraction that any of her fellow prefects would believe. “Ms. Claire, can you please get me something to eat?” Amelia asked. She said it with a demure smile and warm tone that simultaneously want to gag and roll her eyes. ‘Happy, brats?’

“Better,” Claire nodded, “We’ll make a proper Westridge girl out of you yet.”

She slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Amelia with the dark haired girl who started this whole thing. Similar to the way Claire barely reacted to Amelia’s over the top reaction, Ashley didn’t have much to say about it either. “Hop to it, Millie,” she said. She gestured towards the desk while picking up her binder again, to supervise while simultaneously doing some studying of her own. 

Once again holding back a sigh, Amelia walked over to the desk and sat down to get started on the demeaning and completely unnecessary task. Even as a teacher at the private school, she assumed she’d only need to know whatever sections were pertinent to the classroom. The rest would be for the prefects and administrators who handled dorm life and other things. And, while she would normally skim through the whole thing, there was a good chance Ashley would quiz her at the end. 

The first section included a code of conduct followed by some cringeworthy statements about Westridge girls, the very same thing Claire had just called her. 

“Westridge girls are polite and respectful to their teachers, to their prefects, and to each other.” 

“Westridge girls strive for academic excellence.”

Maybe it’s because she wasn’t actually a student, but the whole thing read so typically ‘teenager.’ Despite how the academy was regarded pretty highly, the format wasn’t so different from some of the stuff Amelia had seen throughout her public school experience growing up. Solid branding, she noted, with the constant repetition of the private school’s name. 

When she turned the page, her previous thoughts were immediately countered. Amelia’s experience growing up had mostly been ‘dress appropriately.’ As long as girls didn’t show too much thigh and/or cleavage, they could wear whatever they want. That definitely wasn’t the case here. 

The handbook started out describing the uniform that Amelia was more than familiar with at that point. The green plaid skirt and matching tie, white blouse, and black sock/shoe combination. There was an asterisk for the intermediate grades at the bottom that mentioned the required flats Ashley had her change into earlier. 

Once she got past the familiar stuff, Amelia found herself more and more surprised at just how many rules there were, especially for the younger girls. No make-up, which she had learned earlier in the form of an infraction. Hair could only be braided in a regular pattern, or held with simple bobby pins or hair ties. Piercings could only be located in the earlobe, and jewelry needed to be both simple and understated. Rings were not permitted, period, though advanced grade girls had a few limited options once they were of appropriate age. 

The more she read, the more Amelia wished she had a friend around so she could talk about how this book clearly must have been written over a century ago by fucking nuns or something. But the only girl with her at the moment was Ashley, and the devious girl would no doubt jump at any opportunity to get on her case. So Amelia remained quiet and pressed on. 

It wasn’t a huge surprise that there were specifications when it came to underwear, considering how many other ways Westridge girls had to conform to the boarding school image that seemed to only offer the slightest bit of individuality in terms of accessorizing beyond the matching uniforms. Full cut cotton underwear in white or nude was the only acceptable option, with matching bras being required for said colors. Camisoles were also acceptable. 

Amelia couldn’t help but wonder how many students broke that particular rule on a daily basis. It’s not like anyone would check. She was actually mostly adhering to the undergarment dress code, as she had worn a matching plain nude set with her professional outfit that morning. However, the thong she had on definitely wasn’t full cut. While no one would see that as long as she sat properly, Amelia was still a rule follower, and didn’t love that she was breaking one despite how said rules shouldn’t actually apply to her. 

The uniform section transitioned into hygiene, which was about when Amelia started skimming past the obvious stuff. From an authority standpoint, it made sense, as listing everything in the handbook gave prefects excuses to discipline girls who didn’t take this stuff seriously. But as someone who took her morning routine quite seriously, Amelia didn’t need to read too deeply into that. The only part that stood out to her was how students were to avoid excessive perfumes and hairsprays that would bother other girls. There were enough of those out there that teachers and prefects reserved the right to make the final call. 

Amelia kept reading. 

There was a whole page detailing politeness and respect, per the statement about Westridge girls at the beginning. There were rules about when and where students were allowed to be places or not be places, as well as a curfew that shifted based on both age and day of the week. There was even a section on acceptable school supplies, as binders and such needed to either be distributed by the school or be approved for comparable ones. So many fucking rules. It was getting difficult not to gloss over each page, as the core principle was the same–uniformity. 

The school was prestigious for a reason, after all. While the majority of students attended because they were rich and going there would open as many doors for them as Amelia planned on getting for herself, there was a good portion of girls who were sent there to be reformed. In a way, it was good for them. Instead of being left behind, like most systems would do without admitting they were doing it, the girls that were shipped off to Westridge were still taken care of academically. But, of course, at the cost of their rebellious individuality. 

That was the problem Amelia had been facing all day. Everyone thought she was one of those girls, when in truth she was the total opposite. While the handbook rules were still quite suffocating, she definitely would have preferred attending Westridge as her proper, straight-A self. 

“Ashley?” Amelia said. Quiet as it was, her own voice surprised her a little bit. The only sounds for quite some time had been the turning of pages as well as the occasional shifting on the bed behind her as the dark haired girl changed positions while she studied. “I’m done.” 

“Hmm,” Ashley barely glanced up from her binder, “Shouldn’t you be calling me ‘Ms. Ashley?’ That would be more respectful.”

So there was going to be a quiz. Either that, or Ashley was just enjoying herself. One way or another, Amelia armed herself with all the knowledge she had just packed into her mind in a single sitting. There was a good chance half of it was going to be gone within a few hours. Cramming was only a viable study tactic in the short term, and something she never did personally. “No, Ashley,” Amelia said. Still following the proper response drilled into her earlier by Ms. Song, she said, “It’s only ‘Ms.’ and ‘Mrs.’ for prefects, teachers, and administrators.” 

Ashley raised an eyebrow, “But I’m your elder.” 

“That doesn’t matter. We’re both students.” For a fleeting moment, she almost fell for it. But something like that would have stood out, plus it didn’t make sense. The handbook was absurdly rigid, but it was at least consistent. The hierarchy was students/prefects/teachers/administrators. While there was obviously an unspoken version of that at every school in terms of older girls getting their way, there was nothing official in terms of titles or showing extra respect to girls in the advanced grades. 

“You’re no fun. Okay, Millie. Can you tell me when your curfew is?”

“In my dorm building by 8:30, in my room by 9:30.” 

“And the exceptions?”

“Friday and Saturday, or if I’m getting back late from an extracurricular or a school sponsored event.”

“Very good. And what about quiet hours?”

Amelia answered question after question. She didn’t have all the answers locked and loaded, but managed to remember what she needed to mostly due to Ashley’s quiz prompting her memory. There was no way Amelia could have listed off all the things that Westridge girls were supposed to be, but she could at least handle the things Ashley was throwing at her. 

Eventually, Ashley circled back to her earliest question. “So you need to be in your dorm building by 8:30, yes?”

“Yes,” Amelia nodded.

“Then you’re running out of time,” Ashley smirked, “It’s almost 7:30, and we still have so much to do. At this rate, you might have to spend the night . . . ”

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 29

What else was there to do?

Reading the handbook had been more than enough in terms of taking a dignity hit. Amelia was twenty-two, and she was letting herself be bossed around by two bitchy eighteen year olds thanks to how they had tricked her into her current situation. But there had to be a line. She had an apartment to get home to, and a very serious personal deliberation about whether or not she would still try for this job. The enormous list of pros was still there, but the cons were slowly stacking up.

At worst, Ashley and Claire would be able to hold this over her head. And, since they were teenage girls, Amelia didn’t particularly trust them to keep it to themselves. But what about Mrs. Lewis, and Ms. Song, and all the teachers she had met throughout the afternoon? While perhaps being Ashley’s ‘cousin’ was a blessing in terms of how ‘Millie Roberts’ and ‘Amelia Martin’ were distinctly different, there was still the risk that she was statistically bound to be recognized by at least one of them. Or, God forbid, by Summer or one of her friends. 

Just in case Ashley wasn’t teasing, Amelia pushed back on her latest taunt. “I’m not sleeping here, Ashley.”

“That’s not really up to you, is it?” Ashley shot back, “First of all, Millie, I went through a lot of trouble to get you your own room. You should really be thanking me. Second, your day isn’t over until you’re done with your schoolwork. It was math and science for you today, right? Plus your remedial material?”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing. Honestly, you have it pretty easy. You won’t have to worry about history or lit until tomorrow. That’s literally half the work every other girl your age is going to be working on tonight. So instead of complaining, why don’t you get started?”

“And then I can go?” Amelia bluntly asked. She was getting a little tired of the game, but that tiredness was also making her cave more easily at the same time. 

Ashley just sighed. “Are you a good student, Millie?”

A lot of colorful replies raced through the petite blonde’s mind, but she managed to bite her tongue. “Yes, Ashley. I’m a good student.” Like a proper Westridge girl. She had attempted to play it cool and respond like none of this was bothering her, but it was impossible to avoid a slight blush at the borderline submissive answer. Amelia could not believe that students here were actually taught to reply in such a way. Although it wasn’t like every answer had to be like that–she just kept getting put in situations where it looked like she was more troublesome than she actually was, which resulted in pointed questions that she was stuck responding to in a demeaning fashion. 

“Then prove it. You have homework to do, right?”

She did. Both teachers had assigned work at the end of class, and Amelia had written down what was on the board despite assuming at the time that it wouldn’t matter. It was just an instinct after years of being a student and only just recently graduating from university. The syllabus for each class had readings and suggested practice problems as well, which Ashley was happy to point out as Amelia placed her stack of books and binder in the middle of the desk. 

Ripping off the bandaid, she started with science. It was the subject that would be the most tedious. As expected, she needed to flip through the book and her single day’s worth of notes again and again to find what she needed. Every answer was objectively easy, especially in retrospect after she got there, but it had been too many years since she dealt with many of the terms littering the problems at the end of the chapter. Then there was the remedial packet assigned to her, which required diving into the earlier chapters to play catch-up. 

Amelia’s aptitude test hadn’t been wrong. Science was definitely one of her weaknesses. 

Just when she was reaching the light at the end of the tunnel, in the form of reaching the last page of the small packet Mrs. Fletcher had assigned her, Claire returned. “Hey, Millie!” she exclaimed, “Being a good little girl, I see?”

“Mostly,” Ashley answered for her, “A little complaining here and there, but she’s gotten better. What took you so long?”

“The usual prefect duties,” Claire huffed, “Honestly, you made the right call not joining me. It can be so much work sometimes. Can’t a girl just go to her room without being bombarded with a million little things?”

“Tried to warn you. Although, be real. The perks are pretty good.”

“Whatever. Here you go, Millie. You better appreciate me.”

Before Amelia could question what she meant, Claire walked over and turned a small drawstring bag upside-down over her desk. A collection of snacks haphazardly landed on and around the science work she had been going through. A granola bar, a small bag of trail mix, and a few pieces of fruit. Healthy enough, though not particularly extravagant compared to the high reputation of the school’s dining hall. “Thank you, Ms. Claire,” Amelia said. The food could have been placed more neatly in front of her, but she trusted nothing at this point. Anything could be a test, and addressing a prefect properly was easily the safest option. Especially after Claire had teased about wanting to be appreciated. 

While Ashley chuckled from her spot on the bed, Claire just smiled in response. “You’re very welcome. Make sure you hydrate, too.” She placed a single water bottle on the edge of the desk. “Just so you know, this isn’t going to be a common thing I can do for you. But it’s your first day, so what the hell?”

“Bad prefect!” Ashley exclaimed.

“Sorry,” Claire rolled her eyes, “What the heck.” 

So ridiculous. But Amelia knew better than to follow suit with the eye rolling. She just waited for the two girls to get through their teasing back and forth, then made a show of opening the trail mix before pushing the rest aside and getting back to the science work in front of her. While she was admittedly a little hungry after not eating since breakfast that morning, there were better and warmer options available back at her place. Claire’s return hadn’t shifted her priorities. 

Concentrating was a lot more difficult now, unfortunately. Ashley was more than happy to announce that she was taking a much needed break from her own schoolwork, and Claire said she needed a breather after all her classes and prefect responsibilities. They jumped into all kinds of gossip and other eighteen year old tangents that Amelia could barely follow. And, while she wasn’t paying that much attention to their jabbering, the giggling and the nonstop back and forth of their voices made it take so much more effort to focus on the task before her. 

After what felt like hours, Amelia completed the catch-up assignment given to her by the science tutor. Band-aid, done. But there was still all the math homework. While it was a more straightforward subject, and one that would be easier now that she sat through a whole class going over where they currently were in the book, it would still take time to go through all the problems and whatever equations were required to reach each answer. And no calculator. Maybe it was a Westridge thing, or just the grade/class she had been stuck in, but apparently showing every step of the work was required. That meant that mental math was out as well. 

Could she ask the girls what time it was? Without a phone, or a clock in the room, Amelia’s only real sense of time was Ashley’s ‘almost 7:30’ comment. Even that could have meant a number of things, and Amelia had no idea how long it had taken her to push through all that science work. Fuck it. “What time is it?” Amelia asked. She at least waited until there was a lull in their conversation

Ashley shot her a wink. “Don’t worry about it, cousin dearest. Claire brought more than snacks, right? Or were you oh so busy with whatever crisis it was this time, Ms. Claire?”

“I was busy with stuff and brought everything Millie needs,” Claire replied, “Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, razor, soap, shampoo . . . umm, what else?” She opened her backpack and glanced inside, “Oh, conditioner. You’re welcome.”

What? Amelia genuinely couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not. It wasn’t until she glanced back towards Ashley and saw the dark haired girl with her lips pursed in a smile that it dawned on Amelia that there was maybe some intention to what she had assumed was a teasing threat earlier. “I don’t need any of that,” she asserted. Turning her attention away from the math worksheet passed out earlier, Amelia focused her gaze on Ashley. While Claire was the prefect, Ashley was the office girl who started this whole thing. “You said I’d be done after I read the handbook and-” she cut herself off. ‘Did my homework’ was not what she wanted to be caught saying. 

“I said that you needed to be a proper student,” Ashley said, correcting her, “Are you finished with everything that was assigned to you, Millie?”

The same temptation was there. To correct her, to say ‘It’s Amelia.’ But she still felt stuck in the role Ashley had manipulated her into. Not just because everything she had brought onto campus save for her underwear had been confiscated by the girl, but also because Amelia had elected to speak up before she had made it all the way through the schoolwork that was left on the desk in front of her. It was the wrong time to pick a battle. 

The only way to be a ‘proper student’ was to see it through. Read the handbook. Address Claire properly. Do her homework. The first two had been achieved, but Amelia would have more of a leg to stand on if she wrapped up the math assignment she had yet to start. 

“ . . . I’m almost finished,” she muttered.

Ashley’s response was borderline predictable. “Almost finished isn’t actually finished,” she said, like she was parroting something an average parent would say. “Am I wrong?”

Swallowing her pride, Amelia muttered, “No, Ashley. You’re not wrong.” It was so cringeworthy, but she didn’t want to give Ashley any openings. 

“So CUTE,” Claire giggled, “Back to work, Millie! Yes?”

“Yes, Ms. Claire.” Blushing more the second time around, as she added the title to Claire’s name that she made a point to avoid with Ashley’s, Amelia opened the mathematics textbook and got started on the first problem. 

Just a little longer, and she’d be done with the day’s homework. 

Hopefully, that would be it . . .

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 30

As expected, the math assignment ended up dragging out a lot longer than Amelia would have liked. It didn’t matter that she was decently competent with the subject and only had to reference the book a few times for a few of the things she had forgotten over the years. When a problem had multiple parts to it and all of those parts required working through multiple steps to get to the answer, she could only complete the work so quickly.

It took even longer than usual now that Claire was back. The two of them started gossiping and giggling and talking about everything under the sun as if Amelia wasn’t there. None of it was particularly relevant to her, and it was so cliché ‘teenager’ considering that they were both eighteen. Rumors about teachers and classmates, complaints about classes, and amused stories that involved themselves and other girls Amelia didn’t know. While she was perfectly capable of tuning out white noise in a crowded room, it was something else entirely when it was an isolated conversation complete with piercing girly noises every few minutes while she was trying to concentrate. 

But she persevered. Little by little, Amelia chipped away at the problems. The academy definitely lived up to its reputation. While her own teenage years were a little blurry, she remembered enough to know that the classes then paled in comparison to what she was currently facing in terms of difficulty. The remedial content was more on par with public school material, while the actual classes felt more like they were adding and weaving in stuff from future grades. Kind of like university classes that taught at a graduate level. 

Unable to avoid huffing out a sigh as she placed her pencil down after the last problem, Amelia turned towards the girls. “I’m done,” she said, in case they didn’t pick up on it from the previous gesture. 

“Took you long enough,” Ashley replied. She glanced down at her phone, then back towards Amelia. “Well, it’s after curfew. Looks like you’ll be staying the night.”

“What? No!” Amelia exclaimed, “Ashley, you said-”

“I said that you need to be a good student, Millie. That includes not breaking curfew. If you wanted to leave the building, you should have finished your work more quickly. Now you’ll get in trouble if you go anywhere but your hall. Do you understand?”

Claire jumped in right away. “You don’t want to get in trouble, do you? Especially after all those infractions you’ve already received.”

But, Amelia was an adult. Not a student. It shouldn’t even be possible for her to get in trouble in the first place. “Just give me my ID,” she said. Her attention was fully on Ashley, the girl who started all of this and confiscated her clothes and her possessions earlier. “I can-”

“You can get your driver’s license thrown away,” Ashley interrupted, “Think about it. Do you really think anyone will believe that you’re that old? If you show that to one of the prefects, they’ll just assume it’s a fake ID. A really dumb fake, too. Why would a girl your age pretend to be so much older? They’ll take it away, you’ll get in trouble for wandering about after curfew, and then you’ll be escorted right back here. So, Millie. Is your ID what you really want?”

Amelia hesitated, then said, “I want everything.” Now that Ashley had her thinking about the risks that came with everyone viewing Amelia as a thirteen year old, simply walking out of the building and back to her car seemed slightly less appealing. What if a prefect stopped her halfway? Or a campus security guard outside, as she vaguely recalled the academy staffing people like that. 

And that’s exactly what Ashley and Claire went on to explain as they bounced off each other in terms of why Millie should listen to them and stay put. If she remained in her schoolgirl uniform, then she would be the troublesome new girl that no one believed. Car keys? Stolen from someone. ID? Fake. Credit cards? Given to her for emergencies, perhaps. And, if she changed back into the clothes she had arrived in that morning, there would then be the question of why she was on campus at that hour. It was after curfew, so it’s not like she would be visiting a relative or something. Instead, she would be an adult woman illegally trespassing on private property. The two seniors kept things light as they talked about how Amelia would be a teenager no one believed or an adult who had to explain a pretty ludicrous story if she stuck with the truth, but the weight of the words were impactful nonetheless. 

They didn’t quite hit everything, however. After sitting there and letting even more time slip away in terms of how far past curfew it was, Amelia brought up the one thing that she knew would be most helpful. “My phone.” While it wouldn’t necessarily get her off campus, she could at least call a few friends in the area and explain what was going on. 

“Oh. Hmm,” Ashley mused, with her lips pursed in a small smile, “Oops. I think I left that in the office.”

“Ashley!” Before she knew it, Amelia was standing up. “This isn’t a fucking joke. I can’t just pretend to be a student and stay overnight like this. And you can’t just take all my things. Enough is enough!”

Ashley just rolled her eyes, then got off the bed and stood up herself. She approached Amelia step by step, easily towering over the girl who had been demoted to flats earlier. And, with no warning, slapped the petite blonde across the face. “Millie!” she snapped, “How many times do we have to go over this? You’re not pretending. You are a student, until you can prove that you’re proper and intelligent enough to be an adult again.”

Slightly staggering from the forceful slap, stunned and shocked at the audacity, Amelia began to say, “You-”

SLAP.

The same hand, cracking across the same cheek. “NO. Failing more than half your aptitude test? All those infractions? We’ve been through this. You literally agreed to it. Promised, even. Are you not a girl of your word, Millie?”

Once again speechless against Ashley’s words, and feeling smaller than ever as she rubbed her cheek with watery eyes, Amelia found the breath to say, “I am, but-” Where to even go from there? She had never been slapped before, and a whole day of being demeaned–intentionally or not–by teachers and these high school seniors–left her with very little fight left. And after the encounter with Summer earlier, there was still the hesitance in terms of how hitting back would be bad thanks to Amelia’s real age. “I’m not- I’m not actually a student.” She didn’t know what else to say. Because she did do poorly on a test designed for younger girls, and she did incur an embarrassing amount of infractions. And at the end of a long and mortifying afternoon, it was impossible to remember how much she had actually agreed to vs. how much of this was Ashley doing the typical teenage thing and twisting a partial ‘yes’ into a promise like she did earlier. So instead of trying to argue through multiple points at the same time, Amelia opted to sound like a broken record and just hit the truth that outweighed the rest of it in her eyes. 

“I know,” Ashley conceded. Of course, there was more to it than that. “You’re really an adult named Amelia, right? You want to be a teacher?”

Somehow, it felt like a trap. And also sounded somewhat foreign, after a full day of Ashley’s insistence to the contrary. Still, it was the truth. Amelia nodded, lamely adding a belated verbal “yes” to the gesture. 

“Okay. But you have to be Millie first, okay? I don’t want someone teaching at my school who can’t follow the basic handbook rules. And until you can show us that you’re competent at intermediate classes, then how can we trust you to teach that material to others?”

It sounded logical, but obviously it was more complicated than that. “But-”

“But nothing, Millie. How about this? Claire was kind enough to bring you down some toiletries. Why don’t you go shower and get ready for bed, and then we can talk about this some more?”

“Umm . . . ” she trailed off. A shower? Amelia had already showered that morning and, more importantly, it was preferable to do that back at her apartment. Even if her private room had a small bathroom attached, saving her the awkwardness of using one of the public ones down the hall, there was no need to shower twice in the same day. Especially not in an unfamiliar environment. 

Her hesitation was enough for Ashley to press the idea. “Come on, Millie. I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards. And don’t you want to talk some more?”

While Amelia was very much on her back foot, and unable to keep up with everything Ashley was throwing at her, she wasn’t so lost that she had forgotten the main thing that the dark haired deviant had failed to account for beyond where it was inconveniently located. “I want my phone,” she muttered, countering the suggestion that talking was what she wanted. 

Ashley just smiled. “We can talk about that, too. After your shower, okay?”

“But, umm-”

“Listen to your cousin, Millie,” Claire piped up. She looked up from an academy binder similar to Amelia’s that she had been busy with through the back and forth so far. “You’ve had a long day. I’m sure you’ll feel better after rinsing off.”

“That’s right,” Ashley nodded. Like it had already been decided, she said, “Do you need help getting undressed or anything?”

“No!” Amelia blurted out. She blushed a bit at that image as well as the unintentionally shrill tone, and suddenly found herself actually wanting to shower like the girls were suggesting. It’s not the water that would be refreshing; instead, Amelia just desperately wanted the solitude. After half a day of going through orientation without realizing she was unintentionally feeding into what Ashley had set up for her, and half a day playing the role even after learning the truth about how she had been tricked, it was only now dawning on Amelia that she hadn’t truly been alone since driving in her car early that morning. 

Maybe that was what she needed. A bit of privacy and time to herself. It would be easier to talk with Ashley and Claire after having a moment to center and think things through without being turned around again and again through frustrating teenage logic. Also, getting out of the schoolgirl outfit would be nice. Honestly, anything would be better than her current immature getup. And, while wasteful, perhaps a hot shower wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world after such an exhausting and frustrating day. 

Taking a breath and finding her normal voice again, she said, “I mean, no, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Whatever you say,” Ashley replied, “Chat after your shower?”

Apparently. Confirming what she had just implied, Amelia mumbled, “After my shower.” 

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 31

Amelia hadn’t seen herself in a mirror since first changing into the academy uniform. 

Now that she knew how much Ashley had screwed her over with this elaborate prank, however, the reflection in the bathroom mirror told a much different story. Instead of an adult dressing like a schoolgirl for the sake of fitting in and not distracting the other students, it was admittedly easy to see how literally everyone had made the mistake. Amelia was shorter than usual, and the uniform was not flattering in the slightest on her smaller frame. While the french braid wasn’t the worst style, her blonde locks still looked better and more mature when worn down. 

Despite all that, she still saw her true self in the mirror. A recent college grad, a soon to be teacher, merely playing dress up. But that was just because Amelia knew herself. She was well aware of her not so mature features, as she saw herself naked every morning. Normally carrying herself properly and wearing the right clothes was all she needed to keep herself from being mistaken as someone younger. The problem was, no one at Westridge actually knew her. And the uniform alone was pretty damning when paired with her size. 

Sighing to herself, Amelia made short work of stripping off the uniform. She belatedly realized there were no hangers in the bathroom, but there was no way she was going to poke her head out of the bathroom when only wearing underwear. Instead, she folded the skirt and dress shirt and stacked them on the counter along with the plaid tie, and hung the blazer on a hook on the back of the door. Good enough. Then, after starting the water so it had time to heat up, Amelia removed the last of her garments before collecting all the things Claire had provided for her. Stepping behind the curtain and slightly adjusting the water before fully committing, she set all the toiletries down where there was space for them and let the warm water cascade down her body. 

It was a surprisingly good shower for a school. Great water pressure, and actually hot water. Amelia had braced herself for neither. While it still felt wasteful to be showering for a second time on the same day, it honestly was the nice reprieve she expected. No teachers, or classmates, or dark haired deviants to bother her and treat her like a student. But the comfort of the hot water and solitude was a bit soured by the knowledge of what was waiting for her afterwards. The two senior girls were right on the other side of the door, and Amelia didn’t feel prepared in the slightest for the conversation that was supposed to follow her shower. 

This was supposed to earn her a chat about both the student thing and getting her phone back, neither of which were things she should have to barter about in the first place. And how was she supposed to deal with the teenage girl logic that Ashley kept throwing at her? To be a teacher, Amelia had to prove that she could handle the very same classes she would be assisting with? It made sense at some vague level, but only just. Not only was Amelia supposed to be a teaching assistant, but she was new to this field in general. Before specializing, it would be absolutely fair for her to brush up on lesson plans before the classes she was supposed to be teaching. Since she hadn’t landed the job yet, however, she was not prepared for an entire schedule of difficult classes. That much had been proven by the aptitude test, and how challenging the afternoon had been when jumping in mid-course. 

Amelia stood under the hot water for what felt like forever after she had finished cleaning herself. She told herself it was to think of something good to say to the girls waiting outside, but deep down knew that it was because she was putting off dealing with the whole thing. Eventually, she had to turn the water off. After drying off, Amelia fully pulled the curtain back. A knot formed in her stomach when she saw that her clothes weren’t where she left them. No neat pile of underwear and uniform pieces; no blazer hanging on the bathroom door. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. For a moment, the assumption was that Ashley was trying to mess with her again. But Amelia had just showered, so it’s not like putting on the same clothes was ideal. She would have done it, as obviously that was better than just having a towel, though maybe Ashley was finding something else for her to wear and taking her sweet time. Either way, Amelia guessed that the concept of making her nervous with the empty bathroom was the girl’s plan. 

She took a breath. Stepping out of the tub and wincing at the cold tile on her feet, she checked the door first. No lock; at least she didn’t have to kick herself for not thinking about doing that before getting in the shower. Before calling out to Ashley, Amelia took a few minutes with what hadn’t been removed from the bathroom. She brushed her teeth with the pink toothbrush Claire had found for her, and applied the deodorant that had a similar color of plastic. That was it. No hair dryer, curling iron, or even a brush. Amelia dried her hair off as best as she was able, but ultimately ended up looking less put together than she had in the uniform. Only a towel wrapped around her petite frame, no make-up to sharpen her more youthful facial features, and damp hair that would be clinging to her here and there until it fully air dried. 

Amelia couldn’t stall for any longer. The shower had been lengthy enough, and it’s not like she could keep hoping that Ashley would return with something for her to wear. At the same time, leaving the bathroom in just a towel wasn’t ideal. So she did what she had opted not to do earlier when thinking about how a hanger would be better than folding. Cracking the door just an inch, she quietly called out, “Ashley?”

“All done, Millie?” Ashley answered right away.

The time alone had temporarily made Amelia forget about the nickname. Now wasn’t the time to push back on that. And, while she wanted to mention the invasion of privacy–especially taking the underwear–Amelia didn’t want to sound like she was complaining when she was already in such a vulnerable state. “I need something to wear,” she said. Starting with that was better. She could deal with the rest after she was clothed again.

Of course, Ashley wasn’t going to make things that easy. Otherwise, she would have simply left something on the counter in place of the uniform. “Come out here, okay? We’ll deal with all that in a minute.”

“But, Ashley-”

“Now, Millie. Or do you not want to talk?”

As usual, Amelia was stuck. She did want to talk, and was once again stuck in a black/white kind of situation where there really was no answer without trying to out-logic the dark haired girl on the other side of the door. Especially when it was framed in a way that sounded like not leaving the bathroom would take away the conversation she had ‘earned’ by showering. 

Taking a quiet breath to steel herself, Amelia opened the door and stepped back into the dorm room. Somehow, she needed to act like the mature woman that she was. Except she couldn’t remember the last time she was toweled in front of anyone. Even at college, she had an adjoining bathroom between her room and a suite-mate. That girl respected the privacy of a closed door, so Amelia could fully get her collection of subtle enhancements in place before anyone saw her. And, after workouts, she would opt for walking back to her own place before showering and changing instead of using the communal showers. This was the first time in years someone was going to see her like this, and it was Ashley of all people. 

Standing just a step or two back into the room, Amelia said, “Okay. Let’s talk.”

Ashley just rolled her eyes. “Not from over there, Millie. Come, sit.” She patted the spot on the bed next to her, then said, “Claire’s washing your clothes. She’ll be back with something for you to wear to bed soon.”

Bed. Surely that wasn’t going to happen, right? Amelia couldn’t actually sleep on campus like a student. It was past curfew, like the girls had told her, but Claire was a prefect. There had to be a way for Amelia to get back to her car. Except now she had even less of her things than before. “Ashley-”

“Come on, Millie. I don’t bite.” Ashley patted the same spot as before. 

“Umm . . . ” She didn’t know what to say. No biting, sure, but the girl had slapped her pretty hard before sending her off to shower. And now Amelia was practically naked. It had been difficult enough to keep up with the small debates when she had been fully dressed, which made this all the more daunting. There was also a noticeably constant use of ‘Millie’ in almost all of Ashley’s responses, but it was the same problem as before–too much to deal with. Amelia needed clothes, preferably the ones she had worn onto campus that morning. Her phone as well, and her car keys. And, finally, a promise that this would all stay between the three of them. Despite everything, Amelia was still clinging to the hope that she could land a job at the prestigious school. Ashley and Claire would graduate in less than a year, so it’s not like they would be a problem forever. “Okay,” Amelia relented. Still trying to play it as cool as she was able, she padded across the room and delicately sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Ashley gave her a pretty blatant once over. “Not a lot of boob there, Millie. I mean, less than earlier. Do you pad your bras?”

All Amelia’s hopes of keeping a bit of dignity and authority as the older girl evaporated when the simple observation caused her to blush dark red. The opening comment was so blunt and casually insulting, she ended up awkwardly blurting out the truth. “No, it, umm- it was a push-up.” If Ashley had called her flat that morning in such a way, Amelia would have berated her. Now that the roles had been reversed, however, she had very little wind after such a long, demeaning day. 

“You realize that’s false advertising, right?” Ashley pointed out. 

In a way, she was right. But what else was the small blonde supposed to do when she was constantly mistaken for a teenager when not around her peers? “It’s not like that,” Amelia muttered. Of course Ashley wouldn’t understand, being a hot girl with the height and curves most girls only dreamed of having. 

“So you say.” Ashley brushed her hair back, then met Amelia’s eyes. “So, Millie. What did you want to talk about?”

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 32

Amelia didn’t even know where to start. 

She knew what she /wanted/ to say, but Ashley had already proven how dangerous it was to just blurt out whatever she wanted. The dark haired eighteen year old had a gift for twisting and manipulating words in the most unfair way, which was particularly frustrating since all of her points had a confusing amount of logic to them. Plus Amelia was toweled, which meant she felt vulnerable and uncomfortable before getting a single word out. 

Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep things simple. “I want to go home, Ashley.”

The patronizing smile on Ashley’s face made it pretty clear that it was a bad choice. “You are home, Millie. You’re a student here now. It’s a boarding school, and this is your room. That makes Westridge your home, right?”

Just like that, Amelia felt her control slipping away. She so badly wanted to snap at the girl, to raise her voice and swear and release all the frustrations that were still bottled up inside her for the most part. This was insane, yet Ashley was responding as if it were completely normal. “Ashley, you know what I mean.” It took a conscious effort to keep her voice level. At this point, this best strategy was to stick with things that were undeniably true. After all, Amelia had screwed herself over by allowing half truths and omissions all day without knowing that administrators like Ms. Song didn’t know who she really was. In a way, Amelia had played a huge part in trapping herself as a transfer student, even if she hadn’t known it at the time. 

Ashley just shrugged. “Pretend I don’t. What do you mean, Millie?”

“For starters, it’s Amelia. You know that. I’m an adult, and I have an apartment. This isn’t my home, and I’m not actually a student.”

“Yes, you are. You registered as a transfer student, and it’s pretty clear that you’re right where you belong. Think about it, Millie. What self respecting adult would dress up like a schoolgirl and go to class all day without speaking up about the mix-up?”

“It wasn’t a mix-up!” Amelia exclaimed. She couldn’t help herself. “You sent me to Claire, who was pretending to be Mrs. Thompson, and-”

“Millie. Hush.” Ashley held up her hand. “One thing at a time, okay? Did you or did you not fill out a registration form and put on a Westridge student uniform?”

“I did, but only because-”

“Yes or no, Millie?”

As always, that so wasn’t fair. The question wasn’t remotely as black or white as Ashley was making it sound. But the stern gaze and the no-nonsense tone was enough to make the toweled girl reluctantly mutter, “Yes . . . ”

“Yes. You registered for this, and you wore the appropriate attire. Now, if you think they’re important, we’ll come back to your points later. But let’s deal with one thing at a time, okay?”

Amelia hesitated. She didn’t love the idea that Ashley was ignoring everything but what Ashley wanted to talk about herself, but the senior girl had at least mentioned that they would touch on the rest. Eventually. Although, maybe that wasn’t the best way to go about things. “Ashley, I don’t think-”

“Can you tell me what you did with the registration form, and the outfit?”

“Umm, what?”

“I need to know you’re paying attention, Millie. You do want to move on to the rest, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“So what did you do today?”

Amelia hesitated again. Was there even a good way to say it? She knew what Ashley was fishing for, and perhaps simply saying it was a better way to take the girl’s subtle power away. Especially if Amelia was ultimately going to end up being pressured to do so one way or another. She would look a lot worse if she awkwardly tried to avoid the words only to say them anyway. “I, umm- I registered to be a student.” Technically, true. She had seen the title on the form, but had been told at the time that it was just for information. It had been long enough ago that Amelia actually couldn’t remember the finer details of that first encounter with Ashley. 

Correcting her, Ashley said, “You registered to be a transfer student.”

“Right,” Amelia nodded.

“Let’s get the details right, Millie. Say the whole thing?”

Once again, Amelia had to suppress a bit of frustration. Not only because Ashley was being needlessly specific in terms of the patronizing process, but there were also the nonstop ‘Millie’ references even after Amelia had recently stated her full name again. However, she needed to stay the course. Any instance of snapping would make her seem less mature, especially when Ashley was so calm and collected in comparison. Of course, Ashley was fully dressed. It was no doubt easier to keep your emotions in check when you held all the cards.

Unable to resist letting out a tiny huff, hoping that the momentary release of the metaphorical valve would keep her centered, Amelia said, “I registered to be a transfer student.” It was difficult not to blush as she let the eighteen year old string her along in such a way. The age difference was one thing, and then there was the fact that Amelia was supposed to be a teaching assistant who would normally have authority over this girl. 

Moving right along, Ashley went through the same process with the uniform thing. After a few iterations, she managed to get Millie to say, ‘I put on a Westridge student uniform and went to class.’ Once she was satisfied with the second admission, Ashley brought up something a lot more personal. “Millie, it feels to me like you’re really just pretending to be an adult. You wore heels and a padded bra every time you arrived on campus, right? And all those nice outfits? It’s almost like you’re compensating for something.”

Amelia’s cheeks had been slightly flushed for the majority of the conversation, but they turned crimson as Ashley began talking about her body. It was easily the thing she was most self conscious about, which is exactly why she relied on such enhancements to offset the way she had been totally screwed over by puberty. If she were wearing one of those classy outfits and in a more confident headspace, she would have berated Ashley for so casually bringing up something that sensitive and subtly insulting. In her toweled state, however, Amelia knew there wasn’t much to hide how petite she really was. “Ashley, we shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay,” Ashley gently smiled, “I just have one question for you, Millie. Would you rather be an adult with a body like that, or an intermediate student?”

For a few long moments, Amelia was speechless. What kind of question was that?? The more it sunk in, the more loaded it felt. The answer was embarrassingly obvious. For the entirety of her year in university, she had wished she had a little more in the height and/or chest department. It’s not like she was the only girl her age who was on the smaller side, but at least they had sharper features or more edgy personalities that showcased their maturity. In contrast, Amelia’s slightly more youthful appearance had always made her more self conscious in the locker room and the pool; basically, whenever she couldn’t use her usual tricks to add a few years to her deceptively visual age. 

Objectively, she would opt for the latter. If she truly was younger, then there would be the hope of maturing a bit over the coming years. But as a young woman in her early 20s, Amelia doubted that she had much growing left to do. “Umm . . . ” she trailed off. Because while it might be clear which ‘would you rather’ side she would take, it didn’t feel like a good idea to admit as much to Ashley.

“Be honest, Millie.” The girl sat back and gave her an expectant look. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

After another awkward pause, Amelia mumbled, “A student, I guess?”

“You guess? Millie, teachers at this school speak clearly. You do want a job here, right?”

“Right, but-”

“Then prove it. Tell me you’d rather be a student than a teacher. At least, with a body like that.”

“You can’t-” Amelia cut herself off this time. The words were right there. ‘You can’t talk to me like that.’ But Ashley was talking to her like that, and Amelia’s cheeks were burning up because of it. And she couldn’t say something like that, could she? It was the exact opposite of what she had just agreed to in terms of wanting to have a job as a teacher!

Ashley just sighed. “At this rate, we’re going to be here all night. Come on, Millie. Repeat after me: I’d rather be a student than a teacher.”

Nervously swallowing, Amelia echoed, “I’d rather be a student than a teacher.”

“Until my body develops properly.”

“What-”

“Millie. Say it.”

“ . . . Until my body develops properly.”

“Now the whole thing.”

“Ashley, I-”

“You’re so close, Millie.” Repeating the nickname as always, Ashley leaned forward this time and placed a hand on Amelia’s knee. It wasn’t suggestive in the slightest; instead, it was as patronizing as the tone in her voice. “Say what you want, and then we can move on.”

Practically whispering, Amelia murmured, “I’d rather be a student than a teacher, until-” She hesitated, but Ashley’s stern gaze compelled her to see it through, “until my body develops properly.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Though saying the words might have felt like a big deal to Amelia, Ashley merely leaned back again like nothing had changed at all between them. In a way, it hadn’t. But, at the same time, the self-dug hole felt a lot deeper to the petite blonde. Summarizing, Ashley said, “So as long as you’re underdeveloped, you want to be a student. You filled out a registration form to transfer here, and you willingly put on our uniform and went to class all day. Does that sound about right, Millie?”

“Well, no; I-”

“You did so badly on your aptitude test that you are taking remedial courses for not one, but two subjects. Plus, I hear you got Mrs. Fletcher? Normally the private tutors are girls in my class. You must have really bombed if you need more specialized lessons. Let’s not even get started on all the infractions. Not a strong first day, is it?”

“But, I was just supposed to be observing!” Amelia couldn’t help herself. “You and Claire, you-” It was impossible to succinctly put into words how the two of them had set her up. “I’m not even supposed to be here, Ashley!”

“Sure you are, Millie. You’re a transfer student; it doesn’t matter where you transferred from. It’s pretty clear that you need to brush up on this curriculum, and you don’t really have boobs. And the total lack of discipline? It’s a no brainer, really.” For the first time in a while, Ashley gave a small smirk as she looked Amelia’s toweled form up and down. “Until you grow both physically and intellectually, it’s better if you remain a student here.” 

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

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[D503]

Great story, can't wait for more.

[Lady Lucia]

Part 33

Both physically and intellectually.

Under normal circumstances, Amelia would feel offended. Beyond offended. Anyone saying something like that all the things that came before it would be out of line, but the summary was particularly rude coming from a girl that was younger than her. In her current state, however, Amelia was completely out of steam. Even when Ashley had revealed the complicated prank, Amelia still ended up walking the academy halls like the difficult student she had been registered as. She had been judged by prefects and teachers alike, tutored despite normally being a strong student, and even bullied a little bit by a girl years her junior. 

She was more exposed than ever, as a towel was even less flattering than the schoolgirl outfit when it came to her petite self. And while she still didn’t agree with Ashley’s conclusion, Amelia found it more and more difficult to push back against the girl’s roundabout way of explaining things. Amelia had never been good at handling ‘girl logic,’ as she had always been on the more academic side of things. Hot/popular girls like Ashley, however, had that clever way of twisting words that was unique to the fairer sex. Manipulative guys existed, of course, but girls just had a certain casualness that was layered with social pressure as well. 

Deep down, Amelia knew what Ashley was doing. And yet, she fell for it anyway. 

“But, I’m not a student,” Amelia mumbled. That’s all she could handle. Considering what she had echoed about developing a minute ago, there was no debating the physical side of things when her recent words could so easily be used against her. As for ‘intellectually,’ how could she defend herself after the day had painted her pretty solidly as a girl that needed extra help in numerous subjects? It was getting to the point where she was merely clinging to the fact that she was an adult, and a soon to be teacher. That should be enough to counter the suggestion that she was a transfer student. Right?

Ashley just sighed. “Yes, you are. We’ve been over this, Millie.”

Had they? It was all getting blurry. The conversation hours ago vs. what they had talked about before Amelia’s shower vs. the recent embarrassing sequence of questions and statements that revolved around her body and her day as a whole. “But, umm . . . ” Amelia trailed off. She wasn’t a student. But she also had no idea what to say. 

“Hey. Look at me.” Ashley scooted over and took Amelia’s chin. Looking right into the nervous blonde’s eyes, Ashley said, “Just try, okay? Honestly, it’s not that difficult.”

Amelia awkwardly shifted in place, but managed to keep eye contact. It took a conscious effort to do so. Looking away would make her seem more shy and vulnerable when she was still clinging to the reality that she was supposed to be an authority figure at the academy, although maintaining her gaze and allowing Ashley to keep her gentle yet firm grip felt like it would end just as badly for her. It was easily a lose/lose, so all she could do was commit to the loss she had landed on. “But . . . “ she repeated. More at a loss than before, Amelia foolishly waited on Ashley to continue.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Millie. Tomorrow, you’re going to be a perfect Westridge student all day long. No infractions. Academic excellence. If you’re the mature girl that you claim to be, you should be able to handle that. Right?”

“And if I do?” Amelia couldn’t believe what she was saying. She was actually considering it. It was a confusing combination of feeling more self conscious than usual, feeling judged by Ashley, and wanting to find a way out of this mess while still having a shot at the job. Without the office girl’s help, that was going to be unlikely. And with all her possessions still confiscated, proving her identity alone might not be possible. 

Ashley just smiled. “First, tell me your name.”

Amelia hesitated. She knew what the dark haired senior was fishing for, but it still felt wrong despite how frequently she had been addressed by the nickname all day. ‘Amy’ would have been fine. ‘Millie,’ however, was something else entirely. Blushing from both the question and the lingering contact on her chin, Amelia muttered, “Millie.” Leaning into the game, in case Ashley decided to use a wrong answer to claim that she was being difficult and/or immature.

“The whole thing?”

“My name is Millie . . . ”

It wasn’t the first time they had gone through this, but this iteration was so much worse. The chin grip, the way Ashley was staring her down, and the towel that was the only scrap of ‘clothing’ she had to wear at the moment. Amelia managed to keep her eyes up, but was unable to keep her body completely still. Shifting again on the edge of the bed, she waited for whatever the devious girl had in mind next.

Casually direct as ever, Ashley asked, “And what are you going to do tomorrow?”

At that, Millie hesitated. Weren’t they supposed to talk about something else first? She was trying to sort out the details of all this with Ashley, but the constant curveballs of the conversation were keeping her from being able to focus and keep track of everything. “But, what about-”

“Answer the question, Millie. Be mature.”

“I’m . . . going to be a student?”

“You are a student, until you grow up. We already talked about that. But tomorrow, you’re going to try and prove that you’re not an immature little girl. And the only way to do that, Millie, is to be perfect.”

“What? No, I-” 

“What’s your name, again?”

Caught off guard again, Millie only briefly hesitated this time. “ . . . it’s Millie.” After yet another insistence about speaking properly, she said the whole thing. “My name is Millie.”

“Better. Now, are we going to be here all night, or are you going to be a good little Westridge girl?” Ashley’s tone was a little more firm, as was her gaze. 

“I’m, umm- I’m going to be . . . Ashley, please,” Millie pouted, “I can’t.”

At that, Ashley smirked the slightest bit. “Yes. You can. All you have to do is repeat after me. You can manage that much, right?”

“Well-”

“Yes or no, Millie?”

“Yes,” Millie mumbled. 

“Good. Let’s start with, ‘My name is Millie, and I’m thirteen years old.’”

“Wait! That’s not-”

Ashley scoffed. “God, you can’t get anything right, can you? No wonder you were transferred here. Most girls would get something like this on their first try. Clearly you’re not that mature.”

“I am mature!” Millie exclaimed. Finally finding the courage to slap Ashley’s hand away from her chin, she glared at the eighteen year old girl who had set all of this in motion. She didn’t even realize that Ashley had honed in on one of her weak points–thanks to Millie’s small stature, she had always prided herself on being mature and sophisticated in spite of it. Now that the image she had of herself was being challenged and questioned over and over again, she found it hard to keep her cool. 

Surprisingly, Ashley didn’t seem annoyed or judgmental like she had just a moment ago, nor did she seem smug and smirk-y. Instead, it’s like she didn’t care. Standing up from her spot on the bed next to Millie, Ashley glanced down at the girl. “If you’re so mature, then I guess you don’t need me for anything.” With that, she turned and walked towards the bedroom door. 

It took Millie a couple long seconds to process the potential fallout of Ashley leaving. The impossible to deal with girl was the only one who knew where all of Millie’s things were and, to make things worse, Ashley was about to leave her with nothing but a towel. “WAIT.” The desperate exclamation escaped Millie’s lips before she could think about how vulnerable calling out like that would make her seem. But how else was she supposed to deal with all this? One way or another, Millie would have to leave the room practically naked if she was left alone to get herself out of this mess. And then what? Run into a girl like Summer, who would have an easy enough time stealing the towel away? Or into a prefect who assumed she was causing trouble? Even the teachers and administrators knew her as ‘Millie the transfer student’ instead of ‘Amelia the teaching assistant.’ 

Ashley was the one who got this ball rolling, and she was also the only one who could make it stop.

Without looking back, Ashley placed her hand on the doorknob. “What’s your name, and how old are you?” she simply asked. Then she gave the knob a twist. 

Millie didn’t stall for an instant this time. “My name is Millie, and I’m thirteen years old.”

“That’s what I thought.” Letting go of the doorknob, Ashley turned around to face the petite blonde again. However, she didn’t leave her place adjacent to the door quite yet. “And you’re a student here?”

“Y-yes,” Amelia blushed. It didn’t feel totally right to agree just like that, so she added the important distinction, “A transfer student.” Just transferred from somewhere that wasn’t another school.

“And how long will you be attending Westridge as a student?”

“Until . . . umm, until I grow up?”

“Almost, Millie. Let’s be specific. You want to be a student here until you develop physically and prove that you’re capable of passing our intermediate classes. Isn’t that right?”

Not quite. It was all kinds of rude and patronizing, but Millie was completely out of energy. And while the implication had been hinted at here and there in various ways before, everything was a lot more clear now that Ashley was poised to walk away. Keeping her satisfied was important, even if it meant willingly playing this game instead of trying to do things another way. “Yes. That’s right,” Millie quietly replied. After the most demeaning day of her life, she was basically signing up for a second one while also allowing her body to be insulted at the same time.

Of course, Ashley wanted to hear it. “You want to be a student until . . . ”

Blushing more deeply, Millie replied, “Until I grow up physically and intellectually.” Paraphrasing with Ashley’s earlier words. 

“Mm hmm. And while we wait for your body and mind to develop, you’re going to do your best to be a perfect Westridge girl. So that means being the thirteen year old student that you are tomorrow. Go to class. Stay out of trouble. You can do that, right?”

“Right.” The toweled girl nervously nodded. She was too flustered and worried about Ashley’s most recent maneuver to consider that the recent conversation wasn’t even particularly subtle about how it could be taken. Before, Millie was just focusing on the coming 24 hours. Sleeping in a boarding school dorm, and spending yet another day walking and talking like a schoolgirl despite her real age. 

Ashley had cleverly chosen her words, however. And, if she played her cards right, this could end up being a longer form of entertainment for her. 

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 34

”Good,” Ashley said, “Well, I think it’s about your bedtime.”

“What- umm, what time is it?” Millie asked. It couldn’t be that late. While she had definitely dragged her feet in the shower, it still felt way too early for her to go to bed. Although she was admittedly a little tired the moment Ashley suggested ‘bed.’ It had been a painfully early alarm that morning, and that was before the mortifying day of being mistaken as a student by literally everyone at the academy she was supposed to be interviewing for. 

Ignoring the question, Ashley walked back from the door until she was standing over Millie by the edge of the bed. “Hmm, I thought Claire would be back by now. She probably got caught up with some prefect something. Probably a girl breaking curfew. You won’t be causing that kind of trouble while you’re a student here, will you?”

Slightly blushing, Millie pushed herself to look up and meet Ashley’s eyes. “N-no. Of course not.” If she were actually a student, she wouldn’t be the rule breaking type. Plus what was the point of sneaking out of her dorm when she didn’t have her car keys? It had already been made pretty clear that she would be spending the night and trying to sort this whole thing out tomorrow.

“I hope not. Anyway, I guess we’ll have to bring by a clean uniform for you to wear tomorrow. You’re okay sleeping naked, right?”

Millie’s eyes widened. “What?” she asked. That wasn’t like her in the slightest, and the towel alone was enough for her to feel small and vulnerable. While sheets and a comforter were technically better at covering, it would be the first time ever she slept in anything less than at least underwear and a loose tee. For her, it wasn’t even about being modest. Light clothes were just more comfortable at night. 

“You heard me,” Ashley said, “Claire’s washing your stuff, remember? I don’t know when she’ll be done, and it’s not like you can wait up for her. You need your beauty sleep, Millie.”

“But- but I can’t-”

“Sure you can. Although, I guess if you really want something to sleep in . . . ”

“Yes! Amelia exclaimed. Squeaking in the back of her throat in awkwardness at how desperate and shrill her response sounded even to her, she averted her gaze and muttered, “I mean, yes. Please.”

“Hmm, I suppose I can track something down for you. But I have my own shit to take care of tonight, Millie. If you want my help, you’ll have to do something for me first.” 

Hadn’t she done enough? Although it’s not like the rest of it had been for Ashley. Either way, Millie didn’t hesitate very much before asking, “Umm, do what?” After already agreeing to attend Westridge for another full day, there couldn’t be that much more to sign up for. Or so she thought. 

Ever so casually, Ashley asked, “What’s your phone password?”

‘Wait, what?’ The petite blonde’s heart skipped a beat at the thought alone of handing out something so personal. Also, the mention of her phone was a reminder that Ashley had confiscated all of her things to begin with. A myriad of emotions hit Amelia as she temporarily found her more adult self being frustrated all over again by the current circumstances. At the same time, however, she had really been worn down over the last few hours. Studying the academy handbook, doing homework that was honestly way more difficult than she cared to admit, and even showering in what apparently her temporary dorm. After all her recent agreements to be a student for a little while longer, Millie was perpetually on her back foot, even when wrestling with the part of her mind that was trying to tell her that all of this was unacceptable. “That’s, umm- That’s personal,” she said. Being confrontational was difficult enough in her regular life, and doing so in only a towel while the dark haired eighteen year old towered over her made it all the worse. 

Not pushing the ask, Ashley simply shrugged. “That’s fine. Let’s get you tucked in and ready for bed, then. You already brushed your teeth, right?”

“Wait!” Millie protested. What about clothes?! Surely Ashley wasn’t setting up an entirely unfair ultimatum in regards to the password. “You said . . . “ What had she said? As always, the back and forth got so blurry so quickly. 

“I said you have to do something for me first. I don’t waste time on little girls that don’t cooperate, Millie. And after all that stuff you said about being mature and wanting to be a good student and all that.”

“I AM mature.”

“And a good student?”

“I- Yes. Of course I am.”

“Then you shouldn’t freak out about one little password, right?”

Millie fell silent for a moment. She knew it was a trap, somehow. A way more obvious one than some of the other tricks and manipulations Ashley had danced around with throughout the day. Or maybe it was just obvious because it was something that was more directly daunting, rather than the implication that going along with this or that was technically harmless. Still, she also found herself feeling as self conscious as ever as Ashley made it sound like Millie was the one being difficult. “But, why- I mean, it’s my phone. Why would you . . . You shouldn’t need that.” Millie’s blush deepened as she stammered through her reply. She had wanted to ask for a second, but the mature girl within her knew that asking would give the clever teen an excuse to answer in a way that ‘made sense’ like everything else Ashley had said throughout the day. 

Unfortunately, the partial question had been enough for Ashley to run with it anyway. “Think about it, Millie. What if someone important calls or texts, and you’re in class? I’d hate for anyone to worry about you. Really, I’m just trying to help.”

As usual, the logic somewhat tracked, but Millie wasn’t that dumb. Finding enough of a spark to push back, she said, “Or I could just hold onto it myself.”

“And be caught texting during class? We talked about this, Millie. If you want to make it through the whole day without any infractions, I don’t think you should have a temptation like that on you.”

The nonstop ‘Millie’ references were getting to the point where they were annoyingly noticeable, but Amelia had long abandoned that fight. Especially since she had affirmed the name along with the rest of the demeaning statements. “I don’t ever take out my phone during class,” she said. Another truth.

“Whatever,” Ashley rolled her eyes, “I should get going. Are you good for bed?”

That was that, then. Amelia had accepted a lot about her current predicament, but she wasn’t vulnerable enough to be naively compliant about everything. Giving her password to the very girl who set up this elaborate prank? Horrible idea. “I guess,” she muttered.

“Answer like a proper Westridge girl?”

“Yes, Ashley. I’m ready for bed.” 

“That’s better,” Ashley smiled, “Okay. Under the sheets, then. I can hang your towel up for you.” She turned around to face the opposite direction.

While Amelia wasn’t in love with the idea of being fully nude as she transitioned from the slightly damp towel to crawling into bed, she took a little solace in the fact that Ashley was giving her privacy to do so. Blushing up a storm, as Amelia couldn’t even remember the last time she had been naked around other girls due to how careful she normally was about her image and the enhancements required to make it work, she shifted down to the edge of the bed while clinging to the towel on the off chance that Ashley decided to turn back around. Only once she was poised with the corner of the twin bed’s comforter in her hand did Amelia dare to undo the towel. She hurriedly slipped underneath the sheets and instantly gripped the top of the covers as if the dark haired senior was going to pull them back for some reason. It’s not like Ashley had threatened to do so with the towel, as not having clothes was troublesome enough, but still. Couldn’t be too careful, right?

An awkward silence filled the room after Amelia was settled in the bed, until Ashley spoke up herself. Still facing the other way, she asked, “All good?”

“Oh, umm, yes,” Amelia replied. She had been so nervous–and still was nervous–that she hadn’t considered the fact that Ashley was probably waiting for her to give the all clear. Belatedly correcting her response to one that wasn’t so meek and improper, she said, “Yes, Ashley. I’m all set.” 

“Perfect.” Ashley turned around and scooped up the towel from where it had been set on the rather plain comforter. Seemingly content to invade Amelia’s space again, she sat down on the edge of the bed and pursed her lips in a small smile as she looked down at the petite girl’s blonde hair messily resting against the pillow. “Let’s go through this one more time. Be a mature girl and get it right on the first try, okay?”

Feeling smaller than ever, as she was literally being put to bed by an eighteen year old, Amelia said. “Okay.” She wasn’t even sure what she was agreeing to. 

“What’s your name, and how old are you?”

“ . . . My name is Millie, and I’m thirteen.”

“You’re thirteen years old.”

“Mm hmm.”

“You have to say it.”

“I’m thirteen years old.”

“You’re thirteen years old,” Ashley echoed, “What’s your name, and how old are you?”

Feeling her blush returning, Amelia glanced away, “My name is Millie, and I’m thirteen years old.”

Moving right along, Ashley asked, “And you’re a student here, aren’t you?”

Amelia nodded. “A transfer student.”

“That’s right. You’re a transfer student, and how long will you be here?”

“Until I, umm- until I . . . ”

“Until you develop physically, right?”

That didn’t sound right. It was a fragment of the former conversation, but it had sounded less insulting and unfair when it was paired with the rest. ‘Intellectually.’ Because, while the classes at the prestigious academy were challenging when thrown in the deep end with no preparation, Amelia had still been confident in her ability to grasp her temporary grade’s subjects after brushing up a bit on the details she had forgotten over the years. As for her body, however, that was obviously something that couldn’t be helped. She was well past puberty, and had resigned herself to the fact that she would probably be stuck at her annoyingly small size for the rest of her life. 

She was in way too deep at this point, however, and trying to deal with all of this was definitely going to be tomorrow’s task. “Physically and intellectually?” Amelia clarified. It’s the best she could do at the moment–watering down the jab about her body by mentioning the part she could control. 

“That’s right,” Ashley smirked. She leaned down and gave the blonde little girl a patronizing kiss on the cheek. “But until then, you have to be a student. Okay? Good.” Standing back up, she said, “Good night, Millie.”

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

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[Haku]

I like the story, but tell me: is the change between referring to the protagonist as Amelia and/or Millie intentional? From a narrative standpoint

I mean?

[Lady Lucia]

Part 35

Ashley closed the door to Millie’s room and made it all of five steps down the hall before she had to pause and clasp her hand over her mouth to avoid laughing out loud and potentially drawing attention to herself. She took a moment to lean against the wall and texted Claire while getting her shit together at the same time. 

Technically, Ashley was allowed to be here. The curfew for girls her age was a bit later in the evening, and it would be simple enough for her to lie and say she was unofficially tutoring one of the intermediate girls. While not formally registered for something like that, the older Westridge students were encouraged to help out the others in such a way. Or Ashley could say she was helping her younger cousin settle in or whatever. Still, she’d rather avoid the hassle of dealing with any of the prefects that actually took their job seriously. 

Containing her amused grin down to at least a tiny smirk, Ashley made her way to the dorm’s exit. She kept an ear out for any footsteps, but ended up being just fine. It was a little early for the halls to be patrolled, but there was no harm in being careful. Any time wasted here was time that couldn’t be spent scheming with Claire back in her room. That’s where the brunette actually went when she was sent off with Millie’s clothes, as Ashley’s ‘cousin’ would probably think twice about trying to sneak out if she was naked. She could have a clean uniform tomorrow, once she had stayed the night and fully accepted that she would be here for at least another day. 

This was going better than Ashley could have ever imagined. 

Putting little Millie in a schoolgirl uniform and swapping her heels for flats had totally stripped away her more mature appearance; braiding her hair and stacking her arms full of books only added to the image. On top of that, apparently the blonde wore push-up bras and went so far as to add a bit of padding to the cups as well. Upon that discovery while Millie was in the shower, as well as how the toweled girl looked without make-up afterwards, it was pretty clear no one would believe her story about how she was supposed to be observing classes as an interviewee or whatever. Not that any of that was real, as Millie had already been informed. 

Honestly, the craziest part was just how much of a pushover the girl was. For a girl who was supposed to be a teaching assistant at arguably the strictest school in the state, Millie proved time and time again that it didn’t take very much for her to roll over. Caving to ‘Millie’ when Ashley subtly insisted on it, continuing to play out the day as a student even after learning how she had been set up, and then letting herself get talked into doing homework and reading the handbook without much of a fuss? It was pretty insane. Yeah, her identifying possessions had been confiscated, but still. The now transfer student could have done something. 

For starters, the best play would have been blowing off Ashley and Claire earlier and going right to the office. Even without her cell phone, she could have called someone from the office. Her parents, or maybe her best friend. Then again, not every girl was like Ashley, who memorized a fair amount of contacts in case something happened to her own stuff. As one of the most popular and most intimidating girls at the school, she constantly walked the line between being prepared and low key being paranoid. She always viewed it as the former, of course. The latter only applied in the healthy sense of the word. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for Ashley to think of things that Millie could have done. No parents or friends to call for whatever reason? She could give the office the name of her apartment and have them call the number on their website to verify that she lived there. Even though she was officially registered as ‘Amelia (Millie) Roberts,’ it wouldn’t take much for that to unravel. The car in the parking lot, registered to her real name. Maybe a photo of her somewhere on her recent college’s website? A false name and the fact that she was a ‘compulsive liar’ would only do so much. If someone wanted to call her out and catch her in one of those ‘lies,’ there was a pretty big risk of them stumbling onto something that proved them as truth. 

So far, it seemed that the teachers and administrators that interacted with Millie had been dismissive enough that she hadn’t made any headway with such things. Or so Ashley assumed. She hadn’t been there for most of them, but the fact that the petite blonde was still on campus was enough for Ashley to infer how this and that must have played out. The devious senior had plenty of her own experiences with the adults at the school, so she knew how curt and no-nonsense many of them were. Not many would have patience for Millie’s whining about how she wasn’t actually supposed to be here. 

Ashley and Claire had managed to get Millie signed up and subsequently trapped as a student, but there were countless variables that threatened the continuation of their little scheme if the wannabe TA thought of a way that might get her out. Which, of course, led to the big question: How long?

She stood in front of the door to her own room, delaying her arrival for another few moments. Claire would be waiting for her, and would want to hear all about how the rest of little Millie’s night went. Ashley would be happy to share, naturally, but then what? The two of them were a perfect duo, but Ashley was still the girl who always called the shots. Because she was the more wicked one, and more clever, and all kinds of qualities that ensured that she remained at the top of the food chain. And, while Ashley often presented things like she was coming up with them off the cuff, that was rarely the case. She was methodical, almost obsessively so, which made this game with Millie quite the interesting challenge. Even with a few days of lead time after the initial idea that sparked her to send the girl home, there was only so much that she was able to get done before the fake interview. 

So was her dear younger cousin going to be here for another day? A full week? A month? The lengthier options were fun to imagine, but how? The car was easy enough. Girls that were old enough to drive had the option of purchasing a parking spot by semester. Westridge was a boarding school, but it was only a prison for the girls that didn’t behave properly. The rest had plenty of freedoms. Ashley could take a shift at the office on Monday and figure something out. It wouldn’t be a perfect solution, but tucking Millie’s small sedan behind someone’s larger car in the student parking lot would be enough. Trying to point out her car in the guest lot, only to see it missing, would feed into the ‘compulsive liar’ thing if someone decided to humor her enough to follow her to the parking lot. 

Then there was Millie’s phone. Ashley already took a crack at getting the password, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the issue. Considering how easily the girl caved to everything else, it probably wouldn’t be too difficult to convince her to give it up. But also, tomorrow was Saturday. Ashley could always be less patient and get one of her more tech savvy friends to break into the device. Not only was that more efficient, but it also had the huge perk of Millie not knowing what Ashley had access to. Keeping her little cousin in the dark would be more fun, especially if phone access gave Ashley more of an edge. Ashley wasn’t even sure what that edge would be yet, but she was sure she’d find something useful there. After all, a girl’s cell phone was about as personal as it got. 

Speaking of Saturday . . . 

Perhaps that’s where Claire could come in. Ashley would be her usual amazing self in terms of laying out all the ways she could personally limit the potential escape routes Millie had until the girl more fully accepted that she was more student than teacher. In the name of letting Claire feel useful and involved, however, Ashley would open the floor in terms of ideas for the weekend. Since Millie had done so poorly on a few sections of her aptitude test, she would have a couple tutoring sessions, even on a Saturday. But that was it. There were no classes, of course, and Millie’s only ‘extracurricular’ was in the form of one that was part of her weekly schedule. Maybe that could be part of the coming day–dragging her cousin to something sporty. It would be difficult for Millie to pull off ‘adult and mature’ when she was all sweaty from running around. 

Well, there was time to brainstorm. Lightly rapping on the door twice to give Claire all of one second to prepare for her, Ashley opened the door. It was her own room, after all. Knocking had been enough of a courtesy. “Hey,” Ashley said. She stepped in and closed the door behind her. “What’cha up to?”

“Fucking calculus,” Claire said. She was lying on Ashley’s bed, propped up on her elbows with her textbook and binder both open in front of her. The brunette was easily one of the only girls who would dare make themselves this at home in Ashley’s room. Claire emphatically closed the textbook before shifting to just the one elbow to face Ashley. “So?” Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “Did you see her naked?”

“Please,” Ashley scoffed, “I might have a thing for older girls, but Millie hardly checks that box. Besides, she’s my cousin. How could you possibly ask me a question like that?”

“Older girls, hmm?” Claire asked. As if that was news, when she was well aware of Ashley’s preferences. “I could dress up as ‘Mrs. Thompson,’ if you like. Call you a ‘bad girl’ and everything. The whole nine.” 

“Tease. It doesn’t work when I know you don’t swing that way.” 

“I know. And after all your efforts to turn me.” 

“If I haven’t succeeded by now, it’s never going to happen.”

“Never say never,” Claire winked. 

Ashley just rolled her eyes. “Shameless fucking flirt.” She shrugged off her blazer and haphazardly tossed it towards the girl. Naturally, Claire didn’t flinch in the slightest, causing the outer layer to land on her head like she was a coat rack. Not fazed by the girl’s usual antics, Ashley sauntered over and plopped herself down on the other side of the bed. “So. Millie’s here for the night, unless she runs off campus barefoot wrapped up in her sheets. We should probably figure out how to keep her busy tomorrow, yeah?”

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 36

It took Amelia forever to fall asleep.

The mortifying events of the day replayed through her head again and again, especially the moments that were telling of Ashley’s set-up in retrospect. Putting on a uniform to observe, for example, although she had been told about that back when she thought Claire had been a young woman instead of an eighteen year old student. More notably, the fact that every single adult had treated her like a transfer student without breaking character even once. Looking back, that kind of commitment to giving her a ‘first day experience’ was beyond excessive; both in the way she was spoken to, as well as the step by step process that she had been taken through. 

After kicking herself for being so blind and so gullible, Amelia started brainstorming. What was the best way out? Tomorrow was Saturday. Was the office even open on the weekend? Relying on Ashley was easily the worst option. It would be better for Amelia to somehow prove her real identity to someone with authority. Surely the academy had a computer lab somewhere, or maybe a couple desktops in the library. The campus tour had been more about the buildings themselves and less about the rooms inside, so Amelia hadn’t seen those kinds of details yet. If she could just get some form of online access, then she could forward her information to the right person and Ashley’s little trick would unravel when Amelia had an opportunity to explain things and actually be taken seriously. 

That was the plan, then. Find a computer. Simple and straightforward, yet also the most effective strategy she could think of without having any of her things that had been taken when she had arrived. 

Even after that idea was settled, Amelia wasn’t able to find sleep very easily. Part of it was that she had been put to bed a lot earlier than she would normally turn in for the night. Was it even 10 PM yet? The only frame of reference she had was that her homework had taken her past the curfew laid out for the intermediate girls in the Westridge handbook. Without a clock in the room or her phone in her possession, she could only take an educated guess based on the fact that she had showered, had an entirely unproductive conversation with Ashley, and then had tossed and turned in bed for a little while. The other difficulty lay in the fact that Amelia was fully naked under the comforter. She usually wore underwear and a loose tee or tank top to bed; the sensation of the sheets against her bare body was an adjustment that had her constantly shifting in discomfort. The senior girls couldn’t have at least brought her a pair of panties or something? Even that would have been preferable to wearing absolutely nothing. Although maybe Ashley wanted escape to be as difficult as possible, which proved she didn’t know Amelia very well. The petite blonde wasn’t the streaking type in the slightest, and what difference would underwear make? Either way, her apartment was halfway across the city and the sun had already gone down. She had already resigned herself to the fact that she’d be spending the night in the dorm Ashley had somehow secured for her. 

After tossing and turning for what felt like forever, Amelia managed to drift off. It had been an early morning followed by a humiliating day once she had been clued into things; once she finally fell asleep, she was out more heavily than she normally was at night. Until she was stirred ever so subtly. 

The smallest nudge on her shoulder wasn’t nearly enough to shake her from her slumber, nor was the whispering in her ear. “Mmm,” Amelia quietly groaned, her tired voice barely audible as she clung to the sleep she was still very much wrapped up in. 

“-know. Y- . . . sleep . . .-llie.” It was Ashley’s voice in her ear, yet it sounded like she was far away at the same time, or maybe underwater. The dark haired girl was slipping into her dreams, and Amelia was more than 90% asleep as she gradually became aware of Ashley’s words. “ . . . -word.”

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and persistent tiredness, Amelia just whined out a small, “Hmm?” 

Everything went quiet for a while in response, and she started naturally drifting back into that 10% towards the deep sleep she had been enjoying before. Just when she was finding it, another small shoulder nudge pulled her back. “. . . password,” Ashley’s distant voice said. 

It took a little more back and forth for Amelia to understand in her barely awake state. The entire time, she was kept far from actual consciousness. Ashley was like a confusing dream that didn’t change or relent like Amelia’s usual ones, and eventually Amelia responded to the vivid yet cloudy voice. Desperately desiring the sleep that the feminine whisper was promising, and being a lot more vulnerable than she could currently comprehend, Amelia murmured in barely audible slur, “2-6 . . . 3 . . . 7 . . . ”

And that was it. No more voice, no more soft shoulder shakes. Without the constant interruptions, she fell back asleep almost right away.

A little while later, she was roused again by two sharp knocks on her bedroom door. “Millie? You awake?”

This time, Amelia actually woke up. The knocking wasn’t particularly gentle, and the brightness of the room did the rest of the job as she squinted her eyes and sighed in frustrated tiredness. What time was it? Sitting up and blocking the sun with her hand, Amelia suddenly squeaked and blushed as she realized that her chest was totally bare. As was the rest of her body. So the previous day hadn’t been a nightmare after all; she was still in a dorm and stuck as a transfer student at a boarding school. She pulled the sheets up to cover her breasts, which ended up being the right move. Seconds later, Ashley was opening the door. 

It was just her. No partner in crime in the form of Claire. “You’re still in bed?” Ashley asked. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her before speaking again. “What are all your classmates going to think of you, Millie? You can’t be the last girl to breakfast on your first full day here.”

Not even the image of the dark haired girl was enough for Amelia to remember the dreamlike experience she had at some point throughout the night. Instead, she was focused on the uniform on the hanger Ashley was holding, as well as all the thoughts racing through her head. First, the fact that Amelia wasn’t waking up in her own bed, quickly followed by all the memories of the previous day washing over her. Then, more importantly, the computer plan that she would need to somehow execute today. “I didn’t have clothes,” Amelia mumbled. As if that was the reason. Ashley’s wake-up call was the only reason she wasn’t still sleeping. 

Ashley just rolled her eyes. “What do you think these are?” She walked over to the small closet in the corner of the room that had been fixed into the corner of the room in classic dorm style. Hanging up the uniform on the metal rod, Ashley then pulled something out from her own breast pocket. “Underwear first.” Tossing the undergarments onto the bed, she said, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“I-” Amelia looked down in distaste at the matching white set that landed right next to her. The panties were easily the most boring pair she had seen in her entire life, and . . . a training bra?! “Where’s my underwear?” she hesitantly asked. Hadn’t Claire gone to wash those the other night? Besides, it’s not like a bra needed to be washed every day, and Amelia would much prefer the one she wore yesterday that actually made it look like she had some curves up there. 

“You read the handbook, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing, Millie. You’re only allowed to wear white or nude undergarments. Besides, that bra you were wearing yesterday is a bit too mature for a girl your age. And a thong? Kind of slutty, and also pointless when you don’t really have an ass.” 

Amelia glanced away and lightly blushed. What was she supposed to say to that? Since she was supposed to be ‘thirteen’ and a student here, technically Ashley’s point was valid about what was and wasn’t allowed. But the patronizing insults were so unnecessary. The problem was, Amelia held none of the cards at the moment, and she was also currently naked. She would have snapped back at something like that yesterday, but now she was just going to quietly take it to avoid any more hassle. Besides, it’s not like anyone would see the plain, immature underwear. 

Taking Amelia’s silence as acceptance of the simple, cotton garments, Ashley said, “Hop to it, Millie! You don’t want us to miss breakfast, do you?”

Less motivated by breakfast and more thinking about the fact that getting dressed and leaving the room was necessary to put her own plan in motion, Amelia took the underwear with one hand while keeping the sheets clutched over her body with the other. She knew it was going to be awkward putting them on under the covers, but that was much preferable to letting Ashley see her naked beyond what she had already seen with the towel. 

Commenting on the efforts right away, Ashley smirked a little bit. “Still shy about your body, little cousin? You do realize we’re both girls, right? And related?”

Except they weren’t actually related, and Ashley was fully dressed in comparison. Amelia had already been thoroughly humiliated as a would-be student teacher who had been treated as a difficult teenager for nearly 24 hours now. The last thing she needed was for the one who started all of this to definitively see how small she was for her age as she got dressed. Although the childish cotton set wouldn’t do much to help; Ashley and the uniform were halfway across the room, and Amelia doubted she would be allowed to get completely undressed under the covers. Maybe she could scurry over to the bathroom? 

Or . . . “Can I just have a little privacy?” Amelia asked. She was still an adult, even though everyone but Ashley and Claire saw her as a thirteen year old. It was still possible to carry herself as such, and make perfectly reasonable requests. 

Ashley scoffed. “Hell, no. If I leave, you’re just going to go back to bed. Honestly, Millie, it’s not that difficult to get dressed, is it?”

‘Ugh!’ Amelia wanted to groan for real, but she settled on doing it in her head. Still rejecting the idea of pulling on the underwear the easy way, she made sure to keep her body under the covers at all times while she slipped one foot at a time into the panties. 

Meanwhile, Ashley contented herself by pulling out her phone. Thankfully, she didn’t seem interested in training a camera on Amelia or anything. Instead, she idly scrolled while waiting for the petite blonde to deal with the undergarments. “Claire will be here in about two minutes, by the way,” she eventually said.

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 37

That got Amelia moving. 

Getting dressed in front of Ashley was bad enough, but the dark haired girl had already seen Amelia’s toweled form before putting her to bed. That was mildly comparable to the way the nearly nude blonde was about to be exposed. Claire had been absent for the last part of the demeaning evening, however, and Amelia would very much prefer to keep anyone else from seeing her undressed. At least then she could claim that it was the uniform that made her look so youthful, rather than her less than impressive body when Amelia didn’t have her usual morning routine to age herself up a little bit. 

As a young adult who looked more like a teenager when dressed casually, it was frustrating enough to be mistaken as a younger girl every now and then in her regular life. This was an entirely different level, and Amelia would do anything in her power to maintain some semblance of maturity despite how she was being set up to appear the total opposite of that. 

She awkwardly squirmed underneath the covers in order to wrestle the cotton underwear up her thighs as quickly as possible, then moved on to the bra. Trying to walk the line between being efficient without looking panicked, Amelia decided to bail on the sheets that had protected her modesty thus far. Instead, she swiveled herself to face the headboard. Her entire bare back was on display to Ashley, but it’s not like girls didn’t change like that all the time. Not Amelia, of course, but she had friends who would turn away for a quick change to avoid unnecessarily flashing everyone while still avoiding the hassle of going into the other room when they were comfortable enough with those present. 

Amelia hadn’t worn a training bra in years, but they weren’t particularly complicated to put on. When the childish undergarment was settled on her chest, she frowned a bit at the tightness on her chest. It was definitely a size too small, and a quick downward glance informed her that her already petite chest had been flattened down to two barely existent mounds. And she had thought that the shoes from the Lost and Found had been bad. 

There wasn’t time to dwell on it, unfortunately. Whether or not Ashley had intentionally found a bra that didn’t quite fit, it didn’t change the fact that Claire was on the way and Amelia was half naked. Sighing to herself, and trying not to blush as she turned and swung her legs over the side of the mattress, she stood up and allowed Ashley to see her in the matching white, cotton set. 

Of course, the smirky senior was happy to comment. “Yep, that’s about as small as I was when I was thirteen. Give or take. Looks like you still have some developing to do, Millie.”

Amelia didn’t say a word. It was one thing to begrudgingly go along with this ‘transfer student’ thing. However, she wouldn’t let anyone else get a rise out of her; that had already gone poorly the last couple times, and her current image meant that raising her voice made her look more like an angsty teenager than a pissed off adult. Of course, it was slightly different with Ashley, as she knew Amelia’s real age. But the eighteen year old who had started all of this also had the power to prolong the elaborate prank and/or make it worse, which meant Amelia needed to choose her battles. 

Walking right past Ashley and pretending like she didn’t even hear the rude comment, Amelia pulled the familiar blazer off the hanger. Setting over the desk chair for a moment, she decided her chest was the best thing to cover in case Claire arrived before Amelia was done putting the uniform on for the second day in a row. She pulled on the white shirt and did a couple of the buttons before switching to the skirt using similar logic. Covering as much as possible was the way to go. 

Ashley didn’t make any further remarks, but Amelia could easily imagine the amusement on her face. After all, the girl had succeeded in extending this to the weekend, and Amelia was getting dressed as if she was actually a student. Again. And, unfortunately, Amelia only got as far as the skirt and the button-down before Claire was strutting into the room without even knocking. 

“Millie!” she exclaimed. Without any warning, she walked over and gave the short blonde a hug. “Good morning! Omg, you’re so cute. Did your boobs get smaller? How old are you again?”

Amelia was very much caught off guard by the tight embrace, and the brunette prefect’s bubbly attitude made Amelia feel incredibly stupid for ever believing that ‘Mrs. Thompson’ was an administrator. This girl was very clearly a teenager, even if she had the ability to put on a more authoritative air when necessary. The physical contact, as well as the back to back observations, made Amelia blush more than before. She hated being called ‘cute’ and, while her breasts were technically the same size as always, the training bra she had on was much less flattering than the expensive push-up one she wore yesterday.

“Umm, Millie?” Ashley said, “A prefect just asked you a question. I’d hate for you to get an infraction so early in the day. Don’t you remember our deal?”

Truthfully, no. The impossible conversation about Amelia’s stay had pushed and pulled her in so many directions, to the point where it was difficult to keep track of all the details. At the end, Ashley had harped on how Amelia needed to ‘develop physically and intellectually,’ but that’s not where they had started. There had been something about ‘no infractions,’ and maybe something about proving her maturity? Although it didn’t really matter. With the tunnel vision she currently had in regards to accessing a computer, the only real focus was on not complicating things until then. “Thirteen,” she mumbled. Both questions had seemed teasing and rhetorical until Ashley had insisted on an answer; of the two, the latter felt like the only one worth replying to. 

Finally pulling back from the awkward, prolonged hug, Claire kept her hands on Amelia’s back to ensure that they stayed close, but loosened her grip at the same time. “Westridge girls speak properly, Millie,” she said. Her perky attitude had done a total 180; she was stern and intimidating, especially due to the height difference. Amelia was still barefoot, but Claire was wearing heels that gave her an extra inch. “Try again. How old are you?”

In the back of her mind, Amelia knew that she was older than Claire and shouldn’t feel so vulnerable from such a simple social pivot. After the last 24 hours or so, however, it was difficult to think about the way she would normally respond to something like this. That, and she had never dealt with anyone addressing her like this. The proximity and the way Amelia had to slightly crane her neck to meet the girl’s eyes just piled onto the nervous and self conscious feelings that she was suddenly caught up in. “I’m thirteen years old . . . Ms. Claire,” she said, belatedly remembering the rule about academy authority figures that included prefects. 

“That’s better,” Claire nodded, “You’re thirteen years old. Not an adult, then?”

Amelia’s blush darkened. “No . . . I’m a transfer student, Ms. Claire. Until I develop physically and intellectually.” 

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 38

“Looks like she’s learning,” Ashley said, “Better late than never for our new student, I guess.”

“Mm hmm,” Claire nodded, “Well, Millie? Let’s get you ready for your first full day here. And hey, at least it’s Saturday. No classes!”

That actually was good, although not for the reason Claire meant. It was more that Amelia’s plan would be a lot more difficult to achieve if she was expected to follow a strict class to class schedule. Although it was still super frustrating to not be in the comfort of her own apartment on the weekend, at least she could potentially sort this out once she got a moment to herself. 

A few awkward seconds of silence passed before Amelia realized that they expected her to respond. It was impossible to keep up with the girls, considering how often both Ashley and Claire cut her off throughout their conversations. Until now, apparently. Still looking up at the young brunette, Amelia muttered, “Umm, yeah. No classes.” What more did they want from her?

“Here, I can do your hair again,” Claire said. She stepped forward and placed her hand on Amelia’s upper back, nudging her forward towards the desk. “Anything else your little cousin needs to take care of, Ash?”

“She still has to brush her teeth,” Ashley replied, “But hair can be first. Just don’t take forever; we are running a bit late thanks to a certain someone.”

“Got it. You heard her, Millie. Sit. I’ll take care of this pretty hair of yours.” 

After Amelia reluctantly did as she was told and sat on the desk chair that had more or less been her prison that previous night, Claire got to work. Similar to last time, the brunette opted for a simple braid. Not objectively an immature look, as Amelia knew plenty of girls her own age that liked braids on themselves, but she was just as bitter as before in terms of how the style stole away one of her favorite features. Then again, her hair only looked amazing as it normally did thanks to her usual morning ritual of showering, blow drying, brushing, and rounding things off with the gentle curl. Amelia hadn’t seen herself in the mirror yet, but she had to imagine that sleeping on her blonde locks didn’t do her any favors. It was why she normally showered in the morning before anyone saw her. These bratty girls had robbed her of that opportunity, however, and she was long past fooling either of them. They both knew that she wasn’t quite as physically mature as she presented herself; hell, it was one of the things they were using to insist that she was a student when all three of them knew that it wasn’t actually true. 

“All done!” Claire announced, dusting her hands off for show after tying the tight braid. She placed her hands on Amelia’s shoulders and spoke more quietly near her ear. “How old are you, Millie?”

Wincing a little bit from the proximity, even though Claire’s hushed voice still sounded rather normal despite the borderline suggestive distance, Amelia responded right away, “I’m thirteen years old, Ms. Claire.” As always, pushing through in the name of getting past the portion of the day that involved her and Ashley. After all, Amelia had been trusted without them yesterday afternoon, even after realizing she had been tricked. Only this time, she wasn’t going to be helpless and play right into their hands. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Claire asked, “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Resisting the urge to sigh, Amelia said more audibly, “I’m thirteen years old, Ms. Claire.” 

“You’re thirteen years old, Millie. You’re a transfer student.”

Amelia didn’t know what to say to that. Echoing the whole thing felt silly, so she just gave a tiny nod instead. 

“Now, go let your older cousin help you with the rest of your uniform.”

Not needing to be told twice, the petite blonde slipped away from Claire’s contact and out of the chair. She walked back towards Ashley and the last couple outfit pieces still on the hanger, and ended up faced with a similar face to face ordeal with her ‘cousin’ that she already dealt with after Claire’s pushy hug. 

Ashley placed both of her hands on Amelia’s shoulders, towering over the girl thanks to the combination of her natural height and her heels. “How old are you, Millie?” she asked the increasingly familiar question.

‘Seriously?’ Amelia thought to herself. As humiliated as she was about this continuous charade she was stuck in, complete with literally spending the night here, she also wasn’t an idiot. As a recent college grad, she had plenty of intelligence outside of the kind required for the academy’s aptitude test. Were these teenagers trying to condition her? It was a pretty transparent effort on their part, but it also wasn’t like Amelia could call them out on it or even scowl and refuse. Besides, it’s not like something so simple would work on her; she knew her real age, even if she was stuck pretending otherwise. “I’m thirteen years old, Ashley,” she said. No formal title. The dark haired bitch wasn’t a prefect, and Amelia wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of accidentally stumbling into an unnecessarily proper address.

Similar to Claire’s tactic, Ashley said, “One more time, Millie?”

This time around, Amelia did sigh. “I’m thirteen years old, Ashley. I’m a transfer student. I’m your younger cousin. I need to develop physically and intellectually.” Saying all the ridiculous concepts back to back softened the blow of each of them, and would hopefully instill that she wasn’t a total pushover. Granted, she had allowed this to snowball pretty far, but she was still clinging to the underlying truth that she was the adult here and Ashley was a spoiled brat who was abusing her office privileges and having fun at Amelia’s expense. However, just like Amelia couldn’t call out the blatant conditioning attempts, she also couldn’t spit out any of that, either. 

Seemingly unfazed by the flippant response, Ashley just said, “See? She’s learning. Although watch the attitude, little cousin. If you’re going to be difficult, I’m sure our resident prefect would be happy to make you write lines. How about it, Claire? One thousand iterations for each of those lovely things Millie just admitted?”

“Sounds about right,” Claire replied. “And if she was too slow, or the writing wasn’t legible enough? I could probably think of an additional penalty.” 

“Fun!” Ashley chirped. She held Amelia’s gaze with a small smile, knowing full well that it didn’t take much to make the girl behave under her current circumstances. “Okay, Millie. Tell me your age one more time, and then we can get you dressed for school like the transfer student that you are. 

Already regretting letting her emotions get the better of her, when everything so far had been in the efforts to make the morning go as smoothly as possible, Amelia responded right away. “I’m thirteen years old, Ashley.” 

“You’re thirteen years old, Millie,” she repeated, intentionally using the nickname as frequently as possible throughout the casual conditioning. “Hmm, how about, ‘Please, my amazing older cousin Ashley, will you help me get dressed for the day?’” She gave a nice, long pause after the suggested words, before lightly laughing and stepping back. “I’m kidding, Millie. Loosen up a little, will you?”

Not wanting to say the wrong thing, Amelia merely stood there and quietly waited.

“You should really smile more,” Ashley said, “Maybe we should play yesterday’s game. Your phone is just as waterproof as before, isn’t it?”

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

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[Lady Lucia]

Part 39

The implied threat worked just as well as it had the previous day. 

Amelia didn’t know Ashley well enough to call her out on what potentially could just be a bluff. And, while Amelia’s contacts were backed up on her laptop at home, that device wouldn’t particularly help her while she was stuck at the boarding school. So she begrudgingly gave the girls a small smile like she had been coerced to do after she had first learned that she had been set up by them. “Better?” she awkwardly asked, just managing to say it without any annoyance in her tone.

“A little shy, but I guess it’s fine,” Ashley nodded, “Anyone would be nervous transferring to a new school, after all. And how old are you again?”

“I’m thirteen,” Amelia replied right away. While the answer slipped out effortlessly after all the recent repetition, it still felt wrong. There was nothing to do about it at the moment, however, so she avoided retroactively flinching or correcting the false age. 

“You’re thirteen years old,” Ashley echoed. She pulled the plaid tie off the hanger and stepped forward to drape it over Amelia’s neck. Looking down into the petite blonde’s eyes, she said, “Hold still, little cousin. This will just take a minute.”

“Such a cute thirteen year old,” Claire said, as Ashley got to work. 

The two senior girls continued their blatant conditioning over the next minute or two. For the entire time Ashley fussed over Amelia’s tie, followed by the blazer, they went back and forth with various iterations of ‘thirteen’ and ‘transfer student’ until they were satisfied that the wannabe teaching assistant had been thoroughly drowned in the phrases. Ashley went so far as to put Millie’s flats on for her, and wasn’t particularly gentle as she forced the snug Lost & Found shoes onto her feet. 

“We’ll have to order you some new flats,” Ashley commented. Once she was satisfied that the too-tight footwear was in place, she symbolically dusted off her hands and stood back up. “What do you think, Millie? Should we buy you some shoes for your stay here? We order from a shop down the road, although they’re not open over the weekend. But, Monday! You’ll still be here then, right?”

Amelia had no idea what to say to that. The actual answer was, ‘of course not.’ Plan A was still to communicate via social media once she had an opportunity to access literally anything with the capability to do so. While a computer was the most obvious option, she had also started thinking about the chances of borrowing a phone or laptop from one of her ‘classmates.’ The latter idea was less ideal, as not many girls were particularly trusting when it came to such personal devices. If someone asked to borrow her laptop, Amelia would be hesitant herself. Even if she agreed, she’d probably be watching over their shoulder. And, considering what she needed the internet for, Amelia couldn’t exactly let someone be watching her every message like that. 

Also, how long was she going to be here? Plan B involved playing along with Ashley’s humiliating prank until . . . well, that was the problem. They had started having a conversation last night, but it had shifted towards Amelia reluctantly saying all those things about herself. How she was a student, and needed to develop, etc. At best, they had made part of a deal. Amelia was supposed to be making it a whole day without infractions, and with academic excellence. The latter would be simple enough, considering it was Saturday, and avoiding more trouble would theoretically be fine now that she had read the student handbook cover to cover, but then what? Ashley had never clarified what a full day would mean, and now it felt like the wrong time to ask. If they really were running late, although Amelia had no means of verifying that for herself, any requests for a clear answer would likely be shut down. Especially with Claire around, as dealing with both girls at once was far more frustrating. 

“Of course she’ll still be here,” Claire said, “New students don’t get to leave campus until they prove that they’re responsible and trustworthy. That means no infractions.”

“Something you failed spectacularly at yesterday, Millie,” Ashley chuckled, “But it’s a fresh day. I’m sure you’ll do better now that you’ve had a full night’s rest, and now that you know the rules. Honestly, I can’t believe you didn’t go through that book before showing up. Pretty sure the website reminds girls about that on, like, every other page for new students.”

“Well, looks like she’s about ready! Anything else for your thirteen year old cousin?”

“She still has to brush her teeth. Come on, Millie. Hop to it. You don’t want to miss the most important meal of the day, do you?”

It’s not like Amelia had to be told to do that part of her morning ritual. She could still feel the fact that she hadn’t done so yet, and that wasn’t something even her thirteen year old self would skip in the morning. And yet, she had to deal with the patronizing reminder even though Ashley had basically dictated the order of things ever since she had let herself in. Even though Amelia had showered and gotten ready for bed in the solitude of the bathroom, apparently she would have to deal with some unnecessary supervision this morning. Her dark haired ‘cousin’ took her hand and tugged her towards the private bathroom, and Claire followed just behind the two of them. 

When all three of them stood in front of the mirror, Amelia suddenly understood why this had been set up as a group venture. Her reflected self looked SO small when standing between Ashley and Claire. While she knew in the back of her mind that it wasn’t totally fair, as the other two were wearing heels while she was wearing flats, there were too many other factors that piled on to focus on something like that. Amelia was used to seeing her freckles after a shower, but was not at all prepared to see that immature feature of hers paired with a schoolgirl uniform. And, while the outfit wasn’t particularly flattering for her petite frame in general, at least she had some semblance of breasts yesterday. But now, the training bra mostly flattened her chest, and what was left of her small mounds were rendered more or less nonexistent by the combination of the dress shirt and the blazer. 

In comparison, the two girls flanking her had nearly perfect complexions, and their own uniforms seemed to actually accentuate their curves instead of detracting from them. And, of course, Amelia’s height paled in comparison as she stood between her ‘cousin’ and the similarly aged prefect. They were eighteen and she was twenty-two, students vs. a college graduate who was much more of an adult than them, but that was not at all the story told in the mirror. For all intents and purposes, she looked 100% like the thirteen year old transfer student they were insisting that she was. 

Easily reading the flush on Amelia’s face, Ashley’s reflection smirked at her. “Still need to develop physically, don’t you? Trust me, Millie. No one’s going to doubt that you’re a student here.”

“Literally no one,” Claire giggled, “Face it, Millie. You’re thirteen.”

“A thirteen year old transfer student,” Ashley affirmed, “Okay, Millie. Be a good Westridge girl and brush your teeth!”

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