The Teaching Assistant, Part 28

Chapter 27
The Teaching Assistant, Part 27

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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