The Teaching Assistant, Part 55

“Ashley!” Amelia hissed, “This isn’t funny any more.”

As if it was ever funny to begin with. While it was no doubt amusing to Ashley as she tricked and manipulated the petite interviewee into registering as a student and going so far as putting her into a uniform and letting her stumble through orientation without realizing what was going on until it was way too late, Amelia was absolutely mortified at everything she had gone through.

Staying at the school overnight without anyone being the wiser. Being written up numerous times. Getting bullied by girls that she was supposed to be teaching. Not having a single person believe who she really was.

“You’re right,” Ashley replied, “It’s not funny. I can’t believe all the things I’ve heard about you over the last couple hours. Multiple infractions, from a girl who claimed she could be a good student. And streaking? Wow. Save that for Truth or Dare on spring break, Millie!”

“It’s Amelia. And I’m serious. You can’t keep me here like this!”

“Who says I’m keeping you here? If you want to leave, then leave.”

Amelia groaned. “I can’t! You have all my things. Everyone thinks-” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, even when dressed as a schoolgirl, which made it pretty clear how she was perceived by those around her. “Ashley, please. I’m not supposed to be here like this.”

“Then let’s go tell someone,” Ashley shrugged, “The office is closed, but security is around 24/7 for everyone’s safety. I’m sure they wouldn’t want you here if they knew, you know . . . ”

“Wait. Umm,” Amelia said. This was suddenly feeling a lot more complicated than it had last night. Then, it was a matter of being a young adult in the academy dorms after curfew. Now she had been caught practically naked by the very same guards Ashley was suggesting they go talk to. While getting her identity back was still important, there had to be a way to do it in a way that didn’t get her in some serious trouble. Losing the job was one thing; she could always apply somewhere else and suck it up in terms of making less money for the same amount of effort. But now that she had been ‘pretending’ to be a teenage student for so long, albeit under duress, it was going to be difficult to explain the series of events. Especially the latest inappropriate act that would be fresh in security’s minds. “You need to tell them. How it was all your fault, and-”

“Millie, all I did was a harmless prank. You do realize I wasn’t even there for most of the times you got in trouble, right?”

“But-”

“I’m also a senior. I have a perfect record, and have applications to worry about. You don’t want me risking my future, do you, cousin dearest?”

‘You’re risking MY future!’ The words were on the tip of Amelia’s tongue. She only held back because she didn’t want to make too much of a scene in public, or antagonize one of the only girls who could help Amelia out of the very situation Ashley had created. Instead, she awkwardly muttered, “We’re not cousins . . . ”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “And you’re not really a student. Or so you claim. And yet here we are.”

“Just- Help. Please?” Amelia asked. Ever since the previous day’s conversation with Ashley and Claire, it was clear that Amelia couldn’t pull off ‘intimidating’ in her current attire. At the front of a classroom, in a mature ensemble with all her usual enhancements, maybe. Even then, she doubted the older girls would respect her authority very much due to the age similarity. Amelia had braced herself for that, of course, but obviously hadn’t known to prepare for something like this. Why would she?

“We’ve been over this,” Ashley said, “You agreed to be a transfer student until you grow up both intellectually and physically. If you want my help, then act like it. Show me that you’re more mature than the difficult teenager you’ve been all day.”

‘Intellectually.’ ‘Physically.’

Those two words had been echoing in Amelia’s head long after Ashley and Claire had left her alone last night. The former was insulting because of how inaccurate it was, considering how she hadn’t gotten lower than an A in her entire life. The latter was insulting because it was accurate. Also, rude. And impossible to achieve. She had been too overwhelmed to mention that before, but this felt like as good a time as any. “Ashley, I’m done growing,” Amelia reluctantly said, “Trust me.” She basically hadn’t grown an inch since the age that was on the false registration form. In an ideal world, she would have appreciated a few more inches of height; even a single increase in cup size would have been nice as well. Amelia would have accepted being smaller than average. As long as she wasn’t the shortest, most petite girl amongst her peers throughout pretty much her entire adolescent and young adult life.

Ashley didn’t hesitate in the slightest. “Then focus on growing up intellectually for now. You have a tutoring session this afternoon, and you should be trying as hard as you can to test out of those remedial classes.”

“But- but it’s Saturday!” Amelia meant it in a ‘How long do expect me to stay here like this?’ manner. Instead, it came out more like she was a younger girl whining about being given homework over the weekend.

“Westridge is a lot more demanding than your old school, Millie,” she said, “You can’t just coast here. If you want to succeed, you’re going to have to put in the work.”

‘But I don’t want to succeed.’ ‘But I already have put in the work!’ The first couple responses that came to mind wouldn’t do Amelia any good. Regardless of the context, she would just end up sounding bad. “Ashley, I have a life,” she pointed out, “I can’t just disappear for a few days.” That wasn’t entirely true, though what Ashley didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. In reality, Amelia was in a brand new city with a waitress job that would replace her in a heartbeat after one or two no-call/no-show days. Aside from her landlord eventually not getting paid, there wasn’t much Amelia’s absence was going to disrupt in the world from day to day.

“You’ll be fine,” Ashley waved her hand dismissively, “Now, do you want my help?”

Of course. “Yes, Ashley,” Amelia reluctantly replied, in the ‘proper’ way, “I want your help.” Needed it, honestly.

“Then what’s your name?” Ashley smiled. “And how old are you?”

Amelia flushed. She hadn’t forgotten the not so subtle conditioning they had gone through back in her room. “My name is Mille, and I’m thirteen . . . ”

“That’s what I thought. Now, eat up, little cousin,” she said, “The sooner you’re done, the sooner I can escort you to your tutor. You’ll love her, by the way; she’s a good friend of mine!”