Chapter Twenty-Eight: One Step at a Time

Dylan woke up in an unusually good mood that Wednesday morning. Last night's Equestrian Club meeting had gone better than expected—he felt more confident on horseback, and it was becoming one of the few times during the week he consistently enjoyed. On top of this, he'd fallen into a routine, his body was used to the uniform by now, and styling his new hair didn't feel like such a chore anymore. Still, even on a morning as good as this one, there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite shake: the Yucatan test.

Yesterday, Ms. Chandler informed them that their grades would be posted outside the classroom before class this afternoon. Dylan wasn't entirely confident he did well. His gut twisted as he thought about it, but he tried to calm himself, repeating Ms. Chandler's words in his head: It's only one test. It's just a small part of your overall grade. Still, the uncertainty gnawed at him. Would it be enough to keep him from falling behind? He shook off the thought for now—no point in stressing before he saw the results. One step at a time, he told himself.

He pulled on his blazer, adjusted his skirt, and checked his hair one last time before heading out for the day.

In 19th Century Literature, Mrs. Adkins introduced their next assignment: The Mill on the Floss. The novel itself didn't intimidate Dylan, but the essay prompt did.

"You'll each write a paper discussing how you, as a woman in the 21st century, can draw parallels to Maggie Tulliver, the protagonist of the novel, and how her struggles in the 19th century mirror modern challenges," Mrs. Adkins explained, scanning the classroom as she spoke.

Dylan swallowed hard, sinking a little in his seat. As a woman in the 21st century. He felt an immediate sense of dread. How was he supposed to write an essay like that? He wasn't a woman, and the whole concept felt... disconnected. What was he supposed to say? He figured he'd read the book first and see if anything came to mind. Maybe something would click. Again he reminded himself, just one step at a time.

At lunch, the usual group gathered at their table—Dylan, Aaron, Kyle, Marcus, and the girls, Emily, Olivia, Hannah, and Sophie. The cafeteria buzzed with chatter as they ate.

"So, excited to see how you did on that Yucatan test?" Emily asked Dylan with a playful smirk.

He gave a half-shrug, poking at his food. "Excited? Not really. Curious? Sure."

Aaron chimed in, "I'm more curious about your Beyoncé performance. What's your plan for that?" His tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Dylan sighed. "Claire mentioned last night at Equestrian Club that she wants to meet up tonight with the other girls to start planning. But honestly, I'm not looking forward to it."

Sophie leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, come on, Dylan. You should totally volunteer for the lead part. You'll kill it."

He rolled his eyes, brushing off the comment. "Yeah, not happening."

But the teasing didn't stop, and he knew it wouldn't. It was part of their dynamic now—poking fun at each other, especially about these things. Deep down, he appreciated the humor. It kept the tension from becoming too much.

That afternoon, Dylan's heart raced as he approached the crowd gathered outside the Geography of the Americas classroom. The grades were posted on the wall, and students were clustered around, anxiously scanning the list for their names.

He took a deep breath and made his way through the crowd, squeezing past a couple of girls chatting excitedly about their scores. His eyes scanned the list, looking for his name. He found Emily's first.

Emily Grant: 78% Yucatan Test, 88% Overall.

A small wave of relief washed over him—Emily had done fairly well, so there was hope. But when he found his own name, his stomach dropped.

Diana Lawson: 43% Yucatan Test, 68% Overall.

A pit formed in his stomach. His poor performance had dragged his overall mark dangerously close to failing. Crestwood's passing grade was 60%, and right now, his Geography mark was just 8% above that threshold. The weight of it settled on him as he walked into the classroom, feeling deflated.

Emily was already seated, and as Dylan sat beside her, she leaned over and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, you'll bounce back. It's just one test."

Dylan nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I just need to take the next ones more seriously."

He tried to brush the worries away as they gnawed at the back of his mind, again reminding himself, just one step at a time.

After class, as Dylan gathered his things, Ms. Chandler approached him, her expression serious but not unkind.

"Diana, Headmistress Beaumont would like to meet with you. You're to head straight to her office," she said.

Dylan's heart sank. This couldn't be good.

Headmistress Beaumont greeted Dylan with her usual composed expression as he stepped into the office. The space was as intimidating as ever—dark wood paneling, shelves lined with books that looked untouched, and an air of authority that weighed heavy in the room. Beaumont sat behind her large mahogany desk, her posture impeccable, hands folded neatly on the polished surface.

"Please, sit, Diana," she said, gesturing toward the chair across from her.

Dylan swallowed and carefully took his seat, his mind racing. He made sure to tuck his skirt under his legs as he sat, keeping his knees together, back straight, and shoulders back—just as Ms. Abbot had drilled into them in Etiquette class. It was second nature by now, but the weight of the conversation looming ahead made every movement feel stiff and awkward.

Beaumont glanced at a file in front of her, then back at Dylan with a calm but piercing gaze. "You don't need to worry about missing your next class. I've already spoken to Ms. Abbot. You'll be excused from Etiquette today."

Dylan nodded quickly, unsure of what to say. His heart thudded in his chest as he clasped his hands together in his lap, trying to steady his breathing. This can't be good.

Beaumont let the silence linger for a moment, her eyes studying him as if weighing how much to say. Finally, she spoke again. "I'm sure you already know why you're here."

Dylan hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yes, ma'am. My Geography grade."

"That's correct." Beaumont's voice remained measured, but there was an edge to it. She reached for the file and opened it, her eyes scanning the pages before meeting his again. "Diana, your performance on the Yucatan test was, to put it bluntly, unsatisfactory. A 43% is far below what we expect of our students here at Crestwood."

Dylan's stomach twisted. He opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it, instead nodding again and keeping his expression as neutral as possible.

Beaumont continued, "Your overall grade in Geography is currently at 68%, which, while still passing, is dangerously close to the failing mark. And I assume you're well aware of what happens if you fail a class at Crestwood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dylan said quickly, his voice quieter than he intended. The reminder of having to stay another semester weighed heavily on him. The idea of prolonging this experience—continuing to live as Diana, continuing to navigate this strange world of skirts and etiquette—was overwhelming.

Beaumont's gaze sharpened as if she could read his thoughts. "I understand that you may find this environment challenging, but the expectations remain the same for all students. You are not an exception."

Dylan sat up straighter, instinctively wanting to defend himself. "I—I know, ma'am. I'll work harder on the next tests and assignments. I have a plan to study more and make sure I don't fall behind."

Beaumont raised a hand to silence him, her expression softening ever so slightly. "I'm glad to hear that you're being proactive. However, I believe that simply having a plan isn't enough. You need extra incentive to ensure that your performance improves."

Dylan's pulse quickened, and he frowned slightly. "Incentive?"

"Yes," Beaumont said smoothly, leaning forward slightly. "At Crestwood, we believe in both rewarding hard work and creating an environment that amends shortcomings. So, from this point forward, should you fail any test or assignment, there will be consequences—punishments, if you will—decided by myself."

Dylan blinked, his anxiety spiking. Punishments? He didn't like the sound of it. "Understood ma'am. May I ask what these consequences entail?" he asked carefully, trying not to sound too nervous.

Beaumont nodded, her eyes not leaving his. "You may. As an example, for your poor performance on the Yucatan test, you have been volunteered to assist in another students' project."

Dylan's heart sank further. Here it comes.

"The Garment and Apparel Design course," Beaumont continued, her voice calm but unyielding, "requires models for their upcoming mid-term runway show. I've arranged for you to be one of the models for a student named Maggie Banks. You will work closely with her in preparation for the show, and your participation will serve as your punishment for failing the Geography test."

Dylan's stomach churned at the thought. A runway show? He hadn't expected anything like this. His mind raced with questions, but he knew better than to argue. Instead, he forced a small, polite smile and nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I—I appreciate the opportunity to make up for my mistakes."

Beaumont raised an eyebrow, her gaze scrutinizing. "I hope you understand this isn't simply an 'opportunity,' Diana. This is a reminder that there are real consequences for failing to meet Crestwood's standards. I expect you to take this responsibility seriously."

"Yes, ma'am," Dylan said, his voice steady though his nerves were fraying.

Beaumont starred at him for a moment longer, then leaned back in her chair, the tension easing slightly in the room. "Good. Now, as I said, this is the first of several steps we will take should your performance not improve. any future failures will result in progressively harsher consequences. Consider this runway show a... mild reminder."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand completely," Dylan replied, his throat dry. Mild reminder? He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the next punishment might be.

As he prepared to stand, Beaumont added one last thing. "Oh, and you won't be alone. Katie also recently failed an assignment. She will be modeling for a student as well."

Dylan felt a slight wave of relief at that. At least Kyle would be in the trenches with him.

He nodded once more, standing up and smoothing his skirt as he did. "Thank you, Headmistress Beaumont, for your understanding. I'll make sure to take this seriously."

Beaumont gave a small nod of approval. "Good. Now go, and don't let it happen again."

With a quiet, deliberate step, Dylan turned and made his way toward the door, feeling the weight of her gaze still on him. As he reached for the handle, Beaumont's voice stopped him one last time.

"And, Diana," she said, her voice soft but firm, "remember: Crestwood is not just about passing grades. It's about becoming a respectable and dignified individual... a proper young lady. I expect you to embody that in all aspects—whether in the classroom or elsewhere."

Dylan swallowed hard, his mind swirling as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

With that, he left the office, closing the door softly behind him, feeling the pressure of the conversation settling heavily on his shoulders. The consequences were clear. There was no room for mistakes now.