SubscribeStar Story: The Teaching Assistant, Part 32

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Part 32

Amelia didn’t even know where to start.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, but only because-”

“Yes or no, Millie?”

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

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

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

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

“Umm, what?”

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

“Yes, but-”

“So what did you do today?”

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

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

“Right,” Amelia nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, but-”

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

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

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

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

“Until my body develops properly.”

“What-”

“Millie. Say it.”

“ . . . Until my body develops properly.”

“Now the whole thing.”

“Ashley, I-”

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

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

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

“Well, no; I-”

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

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

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

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