Lady Lucia
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Short Story--The Journalist
🕑 Added 2023-01-26 16:17:07 +0000 UTCI couldn’t believe what I was hearing!
This was supposed to be my big break. A story that would easily secure the promotion I had been working for over a year towards. And while it was still very much within my grasp, I was dumbfounded when I heard what my boss had in mind.
It all started when I heard the rumor about Saint Catherine’s School for Girls. It was a preparatory school in our city for ages 12-18, the old fashioned boarding school variety with uniforms and all. Through dumb luck, I heard the detail that piqued my interest when I was getting my hair done over the weekend–apparently, Saint Catherine’s still employed corporal punishment. In the modern day, that is getting more and more frowned upon as a discipline method. And for a school to do it, rather than a parental figure? There was an exposé there.
My plan? Go undercover as a substitute teacher. Surely I could find at least one teacher there who wasn’t particularly tight lipped about the academy’s punishments. Because that was the problem. Rumors were just rumors until there was proof. And I had already done my research; I was well within my rights to record a conversation even if the other party wasn’t aware that I had such a device running. An unnamed teacher’s voice wouldn’t be enough for a courtroom, but it would be plenty to let us run the story without worrying about getting in trouble for false accusations.
Until fucking Karina pointed out the flaws in my plan to our boss. She and I had been rivals from day one. Because we both started fresh out of college, and because promotions weren’t handed out like candy, there had been an immediate understanding that only one of us would advance within the following year or two. The other would be stuck in the junior position with the next pool of young writers. Not the end of the world, as it was still decent pay with good benefits, but there was so much more prestige to writing headliners and other big pieces than being stuck with the fluff. Or, in other cases, taking on editing responsibilities on busy weeks when the actual editors were bogged down. Either way, not the best.
At first, I thought Karina was simply trying to kill my story. As far as I knew, she wasn’t working on anything as big as what I brought to the latest meeting. So, naturally, she would want to dismiss mine to stall until she could outdo me. Granted, her points were good. Becoming a substitute at somewhere like Saint Catherine’s wasn’t nearly as simple as getting on the list for public schools. Aside from my lack of teaching experience that would potentially keep me from getting onto campus in the first place, one little online search of my name would show where I worked and give everything away. Even becoming a substitute teacher required a background check, so it’s not like I could just make up a name for my undercover mission.
Rather than trying to outright get my story dropped, however, Karina had suggested a different approach to our boss: she said I should attend the boarding school as a student.
Internally, I was fuming. For a Korean girl, Karina was pretty tall. At least, taller than me. And this wasn’t the first time she had been patronizing towards me because of it. She called me ‘cute’ all the time, especially when I wore a new outfit to work, and often got away with patting my head when I was working at my desk while praising how hard I was working. Both technically compliments, but in that backhanded way that girls could get away with. But this? Surely she was joking.
“Sorry, what?” I asked. Rather than looking at Karina, I focused my attention on the woman across the desk.
“Mackenzie,” she said, “Think about it.” And she went on to explain. For starters, it would take way less red tape to get me enrolled than it would to register me as a substitute teacher. No one would suspect me. And rather than trying to coax a teacher to confess what they all probably kept quiet about around guests, I could simply get some of the students to talk about their experiences.
“Or you could purposely get in trouble yourself, Kenzie,” Karina pointed out, unable to hide the hint of a smile, “Get some firsthand proof, you know?”
“I prefer MacKenzie.” This wasn’t the first time she had shortened my name, to my distaste, but it was just like the compliments. Though I knew exactly what she was doing, I had to stay professional or I’d look like the bitchy one. “And this is crazy. There’s no way I could pass for a teenager.” Although that wasn’t exactly true in the physical sense. I wore push-up bras to work, and one inch heels at a minimum. But it wasn’t just about my size; I also had the personality of a young adult, and was nervous that alone would give me away.
“Told you she wouldn’t go for it,” Karina sighed, “Can I take the story if Mackenzie won’t? I could totally pass as eighteen in one of those uniforms.”
Wait, what? At that, I immediately changed my tune. “No, I’ll do it!” I blurted out. This was MY story. Karina wasn’t about to take my lead and get all the glory. “I mean, I’ll go undercover,” I said, lowering my voice to a normal volume. Eighteen wasn’t that bad; it was just five years younger than I actually was. And it would only be for a day or two, around girls I didn’t even know. “I found this story; I want to see it through.”
“Figure it out amongst yourselves,” our boss said. She waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll work on this together. Whoever goes as a student will need a handler. Karina already has the paperwork printed out.”
“And an appointment for a make-over,” Karina piped up, “We could probably get this sorted out by the end of the week if we work quickly.”
Fuck. She was totally trying to steal this story from me! And succeeding. Karina had shifted my idea to a better sounding one, and also had done some of the leg work. “I should take lead on the story,” I quickly said. Claiming it, but throwing in a ‘should’ so it wouldn’t sound like I was making a decision I technically didn’t have authority to make, “I mean, it would make more sense for me to write it. If I’m the student, then I’ll have the more direct information.”
Our boss confirmed that the one going undercover should be the one to take lead on the story, with the addition that the handler would be in charge of edits for at least the first round. However, she didn’t affirm my role. We were simply sent off to figure it out. No doubt another way to foster competition as the promotion announcement approached.
The moment we were alone, I told Karina in no uncertain terms that I would be the student and she would be the handler. This was my story. She just rolled her eyes and said I was being ungrateful for all the help she had given. However, she relented, but with a parting shot about how seeing me dressed like a schoolgirl would be worth losing the piece. Bitch.
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Two days later, I was meeting Karina at the mall.
There was the make-over appointment, but also some shopping we had to do. Saint Catherine’s provided the uniform, but everything else would have to go on our company credit card.
The stylist started things off by taking a few ‘before’ pictures of me. She confessed she had never done a project quite like this before, although it was well within her skill set. According to her, it would be cool to see the side by side comparison after she was done working on me. While I didn’t love the idea of being photographed in the Saint Catherine’s uniform, I was more than happy to take some model pictures in my dress. Not only did I look good in the ensemble I showed up to the mall in, but it was also nice to be photographed while Karina had to stand there and watch.
My first big surprise was when the stylist started talking about dyeing my hair.
I had just gotten comfortable in her chair, but tensed up immediately when she mentioned that, as if the very act of her running her fingers through my long blonde locks like she was doing would magically change the color. My confusion and initial resistance was dismissed pretty easily by Karina. According to her, we couldn’t risk someone recognizing me. Even if the chances were slim to none that anyone there would know me from the city, it wasn’t worth the gamble.
Caving to her logic, as well as the pressure of being told what to do once I had already been put into the chair, I let the young woman get to work. I tried not to cringe as I watched the brown dye being spread around the top of my head, mostly since I didn’t want to give Karina the satisfaction. I allowed myself to be led around the secluded section of the salon and continued to play it cool as I was taken through the whole process.
My poker face broke when I saw my reflection. Though the girl looking back at me was still wearing my dress and was still very much me, I couldn’t help but gasp in surprise at the brunette locks now adorning my head. I had only ever dyed my hair from dirty blonde to true blonde. But going brunette? Under normal circumstances, I never would have entertained such an idea.
I was so taken aback by my new hairstyle that I hardly registered what Karina had set up for me next. The stylist began preparing the temporary freckles for my face, and it wasn’t until the last possible second that I thought to protest that such an addition wasn’t necessary. “Please hold still, Kenzie,” the stylist said. She was already poised in front of me to do the job, and I had lost my opportunity to have a conversation about it by waiting so long. Aside from an embarrassing whimper as she stepped forward, I closed my eyes and held still per her instructions.
After the freckles were applied, I didn’t even get a chance to see the damage to my image. I was tugged away from the mirror right away so we could keep things moving. The next step was supposed to be waxing, but I quickly informed the girl that I had already done laser hair removal over a year ago. I was just tired of dealing with it.
“Like, everywhere?” Karina asked.
Ugh, why was she even there? Instead of babysitting me during my make-over, she could have wandered off to do some shopping in the meantime. “Yes, everywhere,” I snapped. It wasn’t really a big deal, but I still didn’t enjoy sharing something so personal with a girl like her. Especially when she pursed her lips in a small smile at my affirmation.
Thankfully, the girl she hired was there to keep us on task. “Then let’s get you dressed,” she said, gesturing to a small curtain in the corner, “You need to put on everything in there. Isn’t that right?” she asked, turning to Karina.
“That’s right!” Karina smiled. Similar to the way she pushed the hair dye as a way to avoid recognition, my journalist partner for this story presented this make-over as part of an elaborate penalty for a bet that I lost. That way, the stylist wouldn’t know what we were really working on, but would still defer to Karina’s judgment for all things. “Go get dressed, Kenzie. Quickly, now!”
“Mackenzie,” I corrected. It was a losing battle at this point, as that’s also what she had introduced me as when we first arrived at the salon. Still, I did as I was told.
Heading into the changing room, I let out a small sigh when I saw the Saint Catherine’s uniform. Karina was right. Wearing this in front of her was going to be a pretty heavy blow to my ego. She might have been the type to shamelessly dress up like a schoolgirl, but that wasn’t me. Even worse, there were a few other things waiting for me in the room. A pair of black Mary Janes, and a matching set of plain white underwear. As if she knew I would have a problem with the parts of the outfit she had decided to keep hidden from me until now, there was also a copy of the private school’s uniform requirements sitting on the folding chair in the room. Karina had highlighted the parts that stated ‘full cut underwear’ and ‘black dress shoes.’ Technically that didn’t mean plain white cotton and Mary Janes, but there weren’t any alternatives at the moment.
Though I wasn’t starting my undercover mission at Saint Catherine’s until the next day, I begrudgingly went along with the requirements anyway. If only to prevent Karina from making a big deal about my rejection of the parts I didn’t like. Slipping the dress off my body and stepping out of my heels, I made short work of stripping down the rest of the way before pulling on the plain underwear and bra. There wasn’t a mirror in the makeshift dressing room, but I could see just by looking down at my boobs that they weren’t nearly as shapely without my push-up bra creating more cleavage than I naturally had. Sighing yet again, I started putting on the uniform before I lost my nerve or talked myself out of this whole story. Plaid red skirt with a matching tie, white dress shirt, and a blazer with the boarding school’s insignia on it. Finally, a pair of long white socks followed by the ugly shoes.
Was this really worth it? I always thought that I would go as far as it took to be a successful journalist in a big city, but now that I was actually dressed like a Saint Catherine’s girl . . . No, I couldn’t back out. As daunting as it was, I was in too deep. Karina had put down a deposit at the school, we were going to have to pay the stylist for all her work, and I had already allowed my hair to be dyed and for my face to be freckled. That was company money spent and personal modifications done.
“Kenzie? You alright in there?” Karina called through the curtain. “Do you need some help?”
That was it. The other points still stood, but I also refused to let fucking Karina see me embarrassed by any of this. I could pull off ‘sexy schoolgirl.’ It was just a state of mind, and perhaps a bit of false confidence, too. Taking a quiet breath to calm myself, making sure to keep it soft enough that my rival wouldn’t hear it from a few feet away, I stepped forward and grabbed the curtain.
“Of course not,” I bluntly replied. Pulling the dividing fabric aside, I stepped back out into the salon wearing the full uniform. “Well? How do I look?”
“Oh, my GOD.” So far, Karina had been keeping it professional aside from an entertained smile here and there. Not any more. She let out a sharp laugh before covering her mouth for a second. When she removed it, an almost wicked smirk was left in place. “Only you could pull this off, Kenzie. Also, holy shit; you’re short!”
It hadn’t truly dawned on me until stepping out of the changing room that Karina was going to see my true height and figure. As far as rivalries went, we were a bit of a cliché in terms of being more or less the exact same size. Not any more, however, as now she was both taller and slightly curvier now that I wasn’t wearing my usual work clothes. Even when this article was done, Karina was going to know that I relied on clothes to match her natural size.
I couldn’t let her know that bothered me, so I feigned confidence. “And you’re Asian,” I rolled my eyes. Making an obvious observation of my own, to show her that hers was just as dumb. “Think this will work?”
“Oh definitely,” Karina giggled, “You look just like a teenager, Kenzie.”
God, I wanted to slap her. But the thinly veiled insult was also an affirmation that this plan was going to work. Between the uniform and the makeover, it would be enough to shave a few years off my life and pass as a student. It was all about the story, after all. A big promotion and pay raise was worth a little embarrassment.
I had forgotten about the ‘after’ pictures being part of the makeover, but it was hard to say no to the stylist. She had done an impressive job with the whole transformation thing. I denied Karina, however, when she tried to pull out her phone and snap a few of her own. Thankfully, she listened and didn’t take any unwanted pictures of me. It was bad enough that a stranger had evidence of my youthful appearance.
Karina also insisted that I stay in the uniform, so I could get used to it. There wasn’t a lot of arguing to be done on my end once she mentioned it would be better to practice for the sake of going undercover. She paid for the makeover and collected my dress while I awkwardly stood around waiting in the private school uniform. “Ready to go, Kenzie?” she finally asked.
I took back my purse from her. “It’s Mackenzie,” I replied, as calmly as I was able. The nickname was starting to bother me, especially since no one had ever called me that at work until today, Karina included. Holding out my other hand for the dress, I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Rather than handing it back, she draped it over her arm. “I’ll wash it for you. It’s the least I can do. Be ready at 7 AM sharp tomorrow for me to pick you up, okay?”
At that point, I was just ready to go home. Mostly to limit the amount of time Karina got to see me in the schoolgirl disguise. “Whatever,” I said, “See you tomorrow.”
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Ready at 7 AM.
It was worse than a work day in terms of when I had to wake up, but the time was out of my hands. Karina had scheduled everything, plus she had already pointed out that she was also going out of her way to do this and still had to make it back to work after dropping me off. I stood by the curb dressed in the Saint Catherine’s attire, feeling absolutely ridiculous compared to the normal way I dressed. My brunette locks had been quite a shock in the mirror after waking up, as had the freckles. It really was like a different girl was looking back at me.
My small duffel bag didn’t have much; aside from a few extra skirts and dress shirts, the only clothes unique to me was my sleepwear. Even the underwear I packed wasn’t what I was used to, as I was pretty much stuck with what normally stayed at the back of my drawer–plain, white cotton that was normally reserved for laundry day. I actually had to buy a few extra pairs at the mall, since I didn’t own enough to last more than a couple days at the boarding school. It’s not like anyone would be inspecting my underwear, but Karina’s highlights in the handbook had pressured me to do everything right. It was an undercover job, so of course there would be parts that I didn’t like.
The drive was quiet. While there was a hint of a smile towards my appearance, she obviously hadn’t fully woken up, either. Aside from making sure I left my phone and wallet at home, as either of those could potentially give away my real age, Karina and I didn’t have much to talk about on the way there. The one thing I hadn’t accounted for was that I still had my key ring, as I had to lock up my apartment when I left. I begrudgingly handed those over to her when she noticed the lanyard in my hand, as I couldn’t argue that it didn’t exactly make sense to have car keys when I wouldn’t have possession of a car when attending the private school.
Even though this was MY story, it was clear that the only glory from writing it would come after my mission was said and done. So far, I had only dealt with awkwardness and embarrassment. Like how I was getting dropped off for school by my literal rival, who was dressed as professionally as always while I looked the opposite of mature and grown-up in the plaid skirt and blazer.
The official story was that Karina was my cousin. She would be serving as my ‘guardian,’ and all the paperwork was already taken care of for that. Something about how she lived in the same city as the school, and my parents traveled a lot. If anyone asked, I could gloss over the fake cover story as an answer, but mostly it was so she had the authority to drop me off.
We walked together to the main office, and I was instantly treated the same way as most of the salon experience had gone. Karina didn’t even take me into the dean’s office with her; I was just told to sit down in the waiting area. Without my phone, I only had the nearby pamphlets to kill time with. Part of me was still excited, as I was going to be tricking everyone and getting the answers for a front page-worthy piece. At the same time, however, I felt a bit self conscious about the fact that I was a recent college graduate and yet no one was batting an eye at my status as a transfer student. Was it really that easy to sell?
Karina stepped out of the office with a smirk on her face. “Time to say goodbye, Kenzie.” She walked my way, pausing a few paces in front of me. “Come on, give your cousin a hug. Don’t be shy.”
“Mackenzie,” I said. Still, I knew that there was no getting out of the embrace. While I hated her guts at work, she literally just reminded me that we were supposed to be cousins. A cold, formal goodbye would look a little weird. I stood up and closed the distance, matching the single arm she offered with one of my own. A side hug was just fine.
At the last moment, however, she pivoted so we were face to face and pulled me in tight. “Your name is Kenzie here,” she whispered in my ear, “You’re fourteen years old, and in 8th grade. See you in a week, bitch.”
Wait, what? I was supposed to be signed up as a high school senior, not a middle schooler. And a week? This was only supposed to be for a day or two, and then she would sign me out for lunch only to not bring me back, provided I had gotten all the information I needed. “Karina-” I murmured, eyes narrowing at the catty conclusion.
As Karina pulled away, her smirk was even more prominent. “Bye, Kenzie!” she exclaimed. This time, it was for the dean and the administrative assistant sitting at the nearby desk. With that, she patted my head and strutted out of the office.
I couldn’t fucking believe her. And, at the same time, felt beyond stupid for trusting her in the slightest. Not that I had wanted to work with her in the first place; that choice had been out of my hands. Still, I could have insisted on checking whatever registration information she had filled out. Or done more of the prep work myself, despite how Karina had waved me off and said that she was the handler and I was the undercover girl.
The reason she had been so confident on the way out was because there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t really a student, and making a scene would risk blowing my cover. So I swallowed my pride and didn’t say a word as I was shown my room and then escorted to class. The craziest part? No one questioned my alleged age. I knew the make-over had made me look particularly youthful, but fourteen?! While my story and my career hinged on making lemonades out of the degrading lemons Karina stuck me with, I was mortified that everyone so easily believed that I was in the grade she signed me up for.
The simple part was getting some of the girls to affirm that the spanking rumor was true. While I was still bitter about the stunt Karina pulled, as well as humiliated at how everyone seemed to buy it, it was admittedly easier to get my younger ‘classmates’ to gossip than it might have been with the original plan. In their words, it was ‘paddling,’ which I immediately noted.
The difficulty lay in trying to remember what each girl said. Normally, I would have my recorder or an app on my phone if I was ever caught without one. Not only did I have to rely on memorizing quotes while keeping up the conversation, but this story was also unique in that I wouldn’t be able to name any of the girls. It had already been established that we’d bend some of the rules for this piece, as I would write it in a way that didn’t specify what I had done to get the quotes and information.
I ended up latching onto three quotes that would fit well into what I had already mentally drafted if the rumor turned out to be true, and waited until the next class to write them down. Shorthand, in very light pencil, and in the middle of other notes I had taken to play the role of a transfer student. In retrospect, I should have pushed back harder on Karina’s point that my phone could give away my real age. Even if it was confiscated for whatever reason, it’s not like they’d know my password to unlock it. Whatever. Pencil was fine.
Two hours.
It took me two fucking hours to get the information I needed. All I had to do was act like a teenage girl who had heard things about Saint Catherine’s from a friend, and those girls had been eager to spill everything in hushed tones. Karina could have picked me up that afternoon, or the next day like we had planned. Instead, I had to wait a WEEK for her to return. Bitch.
While I could have sought out more conversations and more quotes from other girls, I was nervous that they’d be just as willing to gossip about me as they had been to do so about the school’s form of punishment. If someone heard I was running around asking everyone about the same thing, it would look suspicious. Instead, I kept my head down. A few of the girls reached out, which was sweet, but I had no interest in being friends with girls their age. I kept to myself for the most part, although the ‘new girl’ thing kept enough attention on me that I couldn’t fully blend into the background. And, worst of all, I was called ‘Kenzie’ by everyone. That’s apparently what Karina put on my form, as if it was my full name instead of a nickname. Unbelievable.
After a long and awkward seven days of pretending to be a teenage girl, Karina met me for lunch like she was supposed to do on day two. The moment I saw her, I gasped. She was wearing my DRESS. The one she had held onto after the make-over session and said she would wash. I was stunned, and practically speechless from the offense. Practically. “You-”
“Kenzie!” she exclaimed, cutting me off. “You look so cute!.” Before I knew it, she was pulling me into a tight embrace like when we had last seen each other. Whispering in my ear, she said, “Behave, bitch. I can always leave, and then what would you do?” Then she pulled back, a knowing smile on her face.
Scowling, I stated the obvious. “That’s my dress.”
She did a single twirl, clearly not caring about what anyone walking through the quad at the moment would think. “And it looks so much better on me,” she winked, “I also borrowed some of your bras; I hope you don’t mind.”
It took me a second to process. Then I realized that I had given her my keys before we had stepped foot onto campus on that first day. Was she serious?! “Karina, what the-” I paused to check my surroundings before quietly saying, “What the fuck?”
“Oh my God, that is adorable,” she giggled, “Will you get in trouble for swearing?”
It belatedly hit me that she could easily be lying about snooping through my apartment. Still, the fact that she was flaunting my dress was enough to make me hate her guts more than I already did for how long I had been stuck at Saint Catherine’s. The audacity. “Let’s just go,” I rolled my eyes, “I have the quotes. Which barely took me a couple hours, by the way.”
She cocked her head in confusion. “Go where?”
“Home.” Not just because I wanted to confirm that Karina hadn’t really been there, but also because I wanted to change out the schoolgirl outfit I had been stuck wearing for a week straight.
“Oh, Kenzie,” she smirked, “You’re not going anywhere. This is home.”
“Excuse me?”
“For a while, at least. It’ll be like a vacation. Assuming you got the same deal I did, you should have two weeks of PTO and a week of sick days. Plenty of time for you to live a carefree life as a student instead of worrying about all those tedious adult responsibilities. How does that sound?”
“Karina, fuck off. We’re leaving. I have a story to write.”
“No, you don’t. Your story is dead, Kenzie. I convinced our boss it wasn’t worth the risk. We could be sued, you know? No names, no proof; nothing to hold the story up. But hey, I was happy to take on the rest of your workload while you were away. So much initiative, I know. Maybe enough to score a promotion?”
This time, I truly was speechless.
It was so much more than Karina keeping me stuck at Saint Catherine’s for five extra days. I had been so focused on the embarrassment of being ‘fourteen’ and tricked into a longer stay, I hadn’t even considered that she could use my absence to make a play for the promotion without me there to fight for it myself. And, to add insult to injury, the story wasn’t even happening any more?!
“That’s not fair . . . ” I finally muttered. It felt so lame to say, but it’s all I could find.
“Life’s not fair, bitch. Now, I have a promotion to go earn. You’re going to stay right here where you belong. Okay?”
“But-”
“But nothing,” she snapped, “I win. You lose. Got it?”
Five minutes ago, I was ready to blow up at her. For setting me up to begin with, and then showing up dressed as she was. But Karina had taken so much wind out of my sails so quickly. Dropping my story AND stealing the rest of my work? There would be no coming back from that. She was going to get the promotion, and I was going to be stuck below her for the foreseeable future.
And although I wanted to blame her for everything, I couldn’t help but blame myself as well.
“Karina-”
“Tell me you’re going to stay.”
Blushing, I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth as I echoed, “I’m going to stay.”
“Good,” Karina smirked, “I’ll see you in three weeks, Kenzie. Maybe if you ask really nicely, I’ll let you be my assistant when you’re back. Have fun at school, bitch.” With that, she swiveled on her heel and walked away.
By the time I came to my senses, it was too late.
She was going to get the promotion and, without anyone to check me out at the office, I was going to continue as a student. For three weeks. And I hadn’t said a single word in my defense before she left.
Like Karina said, I had lost.
Comments
Brian Griffith
Is there plans to continue
Devon
Sorry, this might be a stupid question, but I've had trouble finding an answer online: what does ENF stand for?
Bel George
I just found the update. I'm curious to read what awaits her during (at least?) a week at school.
Rob
Just reading the update now and I wanted to comment that one of the things I like about your writing is that you actually mention all the little details such as her wallet, her phone, and her keys. So many ENF writers, even ones that I like, will forget heaps of details and I will find myself asking asking questions like, "Wait, what about her phone? Or her shoes?" while reading.
Lady Lucia
By the end of this weekend!
Rob
I noticed that this story isn't a part of the February schedule. When/where will the next two parts be?
Rob
I liked it, great start. Looking forward to reading the rest.
PatreonUser20221124
Congrats for reaching 100 patrons
