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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