When Angela came to, she was standing outside a building. The plaque in front of it read "Camford Academy", and there was a distinctive school crest.
Looks rather fancy, Angela thought, as she read the Latin motto - sapientia est potentia. Almost instantly, she felt something funny in her brain, and she knew what it meant - "the power of wisdom".
That's funny, I don't remember learning that particular bit of Latin, she thought as she observed her surroundings. Despite her best efforts to ignore it, there was a nagging sensation of feeling different despite not having changed physically.
She could see several children walking towards the building, each of them dressed in Camford's school uniform. Both genders wore a navy blue blazer, a black and blue tie, and sensible black leather shoes, the boys wore long grey pants, and the girls wore pleated skirts with a black and blue plaid pattern.
Angela looked down at herself, and realised why she felt funny - she was also dressed in the school's uniform! A few seconds ago, she was dressed casually in a t-shirt, mom jeans and ballet flats, but now she was wearing at least three layers of clothing, and the distinctive crest on the school plaque was also adorning her blazer. Her skirt came down just above her knees, and in addition to sensible leather shoes, she had socks that came up to just under her knees. Additionally, her hair was tied back in a ponytail despite being free-flowing when she stepped into the door, and she was carrying a backpack.
Suddenly, a little girl passed her by and said "Hey Maggie."
More information started flowing into her brain - the door she went through read Margaret Mackillop, 9, elementary school student, but now she knew more than the basics - most people called her Maggie, and her family was rather well-off. The little girl who greeted her was her best friend Emma.
Not wanting to arouse suspicion, "Maggie" replied back.
"Hey Emma. I'll uh...see you in class."
Emma gave Angela a thumbs-up. Angela breathed a sigh of relief. Looking up at the clock, she could see it was quarter to nine. Perfect, she thought. More than enough time to get a better look at myself.
Angela entered the building, and after placing her blazer and backpack on the coat-rack, she quickly made her way to the nearest bathroom.
"Miss Mackillop, no running in the hall,", she heard a voice say.
Angela felt slightly embarrassed, but slowed down. When she got to the bathroom, she got a better look at herself in the mirror, and smirked - in addition to her hair being tied back in a ponytail, she had absolutely no makeup or jewellery. What's more, she got a clear view of her top for the first time - it was a black V-neck sweater with the school crest embroidered into it over a white blouse, and the same blue and black tie as the other students. Lifting up her sweater, she realised that her skirt was just the bottom half of a plaid pinafore in the school's colours of black and blue. It was also just now that she realised that she wasn't even wearing a training bra, but considering the clothes she was wearing, it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference.
She spent the next few minutes striking a few poses, and curtsying, admiring how she looked in her new uniform. This was not a cosplay or fetish uniform, but the real deal, tailor-made to fit a grown-woman's body. When the bell rang, Angela quickly remembered that she had to get to class, because she was not only dressed as a private schoolgirl - she had to live as one for the next 24 hours.
Remembering the particular class she was scheduled to take, she made her way to room 14B, and sat down at her desk. The desk wasn't exactly resized to fit her, but there was enough legroom, and she made herself comfortable. The other students piled in as well as the teacher, Miss Appleby, with no one paying any mind to the grown woman sitting at a student's desk. But as soon as all the other students took their seats, Angela heard a voice.
"Miss Mackillop, please uncross your legs. And don't slouch."
Sheepishly, Angela uncrossed her legs, and sat up straight. If she was going to play the part of a private schoolgirl, it was not proper etiquette to sit like Sharon Stone.
As the lesson began, Angela reflected on her situation. This is so weird, she thought. Here I am, pushing 40 and towering over my fellow classmates. And yet, as far as everyone else is concerned, I'm just a nine-year-old schoolgirl, and I have to adhere to a strict code of dress and etiquette. I have no idea if I'll ever get used to it, even if I spend the rest of my life here.
But however she felt about her current predicament, Angela had to admit that it wasn't without its perks. Despite not changing physically, she still felt 30 years younger, and she knew that she had friends and family in this life. Well, I'm stuck here for the next 24 hours. I think I'll just enjoy the ride for the moment, she thought.
