The Teaching Assistant, Part 28

Chapter 26
The Teaching Assistant, Part 26

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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