#clone high x reader

As a result of the divorce Charlotte had been tabloid-manhandled out of Britain and promptly returned to her mother country, the United States, and backed right into perusing the job boards in the Cape Cod Times by her alimony-avoiding, hector of an ex-husband. Hugo, at 40, knew of nothing but a life of bone china plates and private charter jets, getting by in this world from a combination of generational handouts from his godmother's situated in a nondescript European country off the coast and the humiliatingly tacky private tours he host every Saturday evening of the inherited estates cashing in a small fortune. And yet, he avoids the alimony checkers in a not so dissimilar fashion to that of his shunned family embarrassment of an uncle, who was, as of last month, avoiding taxes of in sunny Monte Carlo.

Once it became incredibly clear that Hugo was never going to cough up, and that her mother's invitation of staying at her summer house in Martha's Vineyard had a fast approaching expiry date Charlotte started to look for her next move.

Just when she had nearly exhausted all her mother's country club friends who, in a tone that could only be translated as deeply patronising stated that,

"Unemployment for such a young, american divorcee was 'in' for 1962" and that they would "call back in April to work something out"

However, April came and went, and still nothing. During the 16-month stint since Charlotte's divorce of 1961, Charlotte felt very sorry for herself and--well that's about all she did really.

Not only did getting married at 20, and it's later disillusion 8 years later, create an abstract wreckage sculpture out of her self-esteem and physical health, it stripped all prior job experience that a girl her age should've been building. After all, she could still feel her mother's fingertips ushering an 20 year old Charlotte's hands away from a flyer, held by a piece of battered painter's tape on a lamppost advertising a law school in the area,

"Oh for christ sake what are staring at now Charlotte?, you know we have caroline's recital across town, and I swear if I have to hear your aunts nasally whine one more time so help me God I will--"

Charlotte abandons her post of intense eye contact with the poster fluttering by the winds will almost instantly and returns through a soft tone "I-I'm coming now, it just captured my eye that's all."

The rest of the walk was blanketed in a soft wool of repression and thoughts better left unspoken until her mother turned on her heal, the gravel exclaiming a pleasant crunch in response,

"Don't you dare think I didn't see what you were looking at Charlotte, these are not the aspirations expected of a future baroness, you won't have any need for these silly machinations once you're tending to your husband and your home together. I understand that your nervous but think of how happy you'll be in a short few months with Hugo."

Her mother assured her in such a cadence, with such wistful hope, not meaning to make Charlotte's stomach drop but it did all the same.

"You know, I got nervous too, when I was engaged to your father. I thought about leaving more times than Sinatra's gets played on the radio at Green's pharmacy, but I stuck it out. And I got rewarded a great deal for that, for that bravery, and you will too. Far more than I ever did, I mean you're marrying a Baron who is infatuated with you for Pete's sake!"

Charlotte thinks to scoff at the notion that Hugo is at all capable of the feeling of infatuation but halts when she observes the expression of sheer elation on her mother's face.

"Everything will run as it's meant to if you do what's best, I promise",

and with that a kiss is pressed to Charlotte's forehead, and the conversation is recklessly abandoned by both parties.

Charlotte had stayed in that marriage for 8 years and what did she have to show for it? Surely not anything tangentially useful. Sure, now she knew the intricacies of English etiquette and the British aversion to hugs but that's nothing to be put on a resume. However, one worthy advantage that came out of the grotesque misalignment that was their marriage was that around the 4th year mark Charlotte had managed to secure an English degree from the University of London. Now that was certainly something to put on her resume.

Still the world seemed to completely turn its back on Charlotte, though only on a strictly employment basis, she still attended mass each Sunday and caught up with her still married, though not happily, socialite friends but it was hard to find common ground anymore. Before she could feasibly pass as one of them, now even if they didn't explicitly state it, Charlotte was now regarded as persona no grata for the entirety of the high society scene of London. She was left with a bunch empty friends, and an, as if increasing by the day, empty purse strings.

That was until a job ad in The Boston Globe caught the baby blue shadowed eye of Charlotte during her quite lonely solo escapade to the local sandwich bar across the street from her flat.

It read, in a thick professional font:

'Exciting Secretary Position Available at political epicentre of Washington D.C!

Are you a talented and organised individual seeking a rewarding career in a fast-paced office environment? Our office is looking for a professional Secretary to join our team and contribute to our continued success.

Position: Secretary Location: Top Secret [Call to confirm details] Salary: Competitive, with excellent benefits

Responsibilities:

managing and prioritising daily office tasks with efficiency

coordinating appointments and travel

managing diaries

support senior executives

having a pleasant demeanour when interacting with important officials

Qualifications:

High School Diploma or equivalent

Apply today to be part of a supportive and thriving workplace!

Phone: *** *** ***''

Now sure, the vague nature of who exactly the job would have Charlotte working for was strange and a little more than unnerving but realistically Charlotte, a 29 year old women with the same employment history as a 18 year old fresh out of high school, was going to take whatever she could get at this point.

The girl took the changing of the sky from bright periwinkle to a dim earl grey, as a sign to head back to her place in order to escape the fast approaching storm, the newspaper resting comparably rolled up in the crook of her arm.

Prior to returning to her apartment Charlotte had come to forget about the job as she had ran a few errands after the sandwich bar, that was until her feet met the door mat of her apartment. It was no longer clean as she had left it prior it now had, scrawled in big black letters, 'warning of eviction if payment is not obtained by next month'.

Charlotte's shaking hands move to pick up the yellow slip, and as she makes her way through her apartment, periodically leaving her jacket on the armrest of her laughably small settee in her stress-filled haze, she then starts to remember the job offer from the afternoon.

Sure the ad's ambiguity was a bit strange, but truly who was she to judge? It's not like the job offers were exactly rolling in at the moment.

'Oh what the hell, she might as well give it a go!' Charlotte thought, as she hesitantly dialled up the rotary.

You groaned, rubbing your head. You didn't remember what happened or where you were. This- Caused a panic to stir in you. You quickly sat up and looked around what looked like an office. Well- more like a science lab with all the flasks and mysterious liquids.

You frown, rubbing your head, before sitting up. You yawn, walking towards the door, but you are grabbed and pushed back into the chair. You looked around confused only to see a crazy-looking man in a lab coat. He had yellow rubber clothes, which were clasped together. A banner of his name 'Scudworth' was engraved into it. This was the moment you were going to die.

There's a moment of silence before he speaks. "You may be wondering why you're here."

'No shit,' You thought, trying hard to contain your eye roll.

"It seems the administration made a mistake when enrolling you."

"So, you can unenroll me, right?" You asked hopefully, your eyes nearly shining with glee and hope.

The man smirks, as if you had just told him a funny joke. "Unenroll you? Now why would I do that? This is fate."

"Fate?"

"Yes!" he stands up, his chair spinning as he walks over to your side, "The first Natural-born human amongst clones of historical figures of the world. This is what was meant to happen."

"What was?"

He turns away from you and looks over at his many degrees on the wall. You hear him chuckle, causing you to worry. "Why you coming here. You were meant to be here. To see how the clones would react with you. It is the perfect science experiment. It will determine how they will react to the..." He turns back to you, "Natural World."

"And I have to be an unwilling participant?"

"Well, it's not like you have a choice. Just imagine the possibilities."

You frowned, "Possibilities?"

"Yes," He turns back to you, and pats your shoulder. "A new year has begun and things will be... incredible."

'Oh my god, this man has lost his mind,' You thought, shaking your head. "You can't do this to me- I have rights-"

"Do you? Besides, this is a regular school, so there is no reason for you to go to another school. It will be in your best interest to stay in this school."

'Is he threatening me?'

A smile over takes his face and he claps his hands, "Alright. Go, go. You will definitely be popular."

---

You sat in a room full of strangers- Well, they weren't really strangers. You recognized a few of them as historical figures such as Joan of Arc, Abraham Lincoln, and Ghandi?

"The first day of school is always awkward. I just want you to know I can relate. You see, I'm not just your kindly history teacher. I'm also the first mostly-human clone."

You have to hold in a gag when seeing the creature. God, this had to be some type of crime against humanity.

"Spliced in a little sheep DNA." He pats his arm with his cane. Which is fine with me."

"You can't even tell, Mr. Sheepman."

'Ah, yes you can,' You thought to yourself, but you'd never say that aloud.

"Thank you! Before you leave, we have an announcement from Miss of Arc."

"Now, I know I don't have to tell you how committed I am to community service."

You frowned, before tilting your head. 'What the fuck is she talking about? She's nothing like THE Joan of Arc.'

"That's why I'm starting a teen crisis hotline and I'm looking for volunteers."

'Nevermind. Maybe she is.' You quickly raise your hand, but immediately put it down when seeing the look of disappointment cross her face. 'Bitch.' Though you were the only person left in the classroom, so she had to go with you.

"I've never seen you before, are you new?"

"Something like that." You pick up your bag, before putting out your hand, "Y/n L/n."

She looks at you confused, "That doesn't sound like any historical figure I know."

"Yeah, because I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not a clone."

You can see the look of confusion appear on her face as her eyebrows cross, "What? But this is Clone High? Why would you not be a clone in clone high?"

"That's a good question. So, when do you need my help?"

---

 You walk through the halls, gawking at the many historical figures, impressed by the many you could see. Though, you should have paid attention to where you were walking, because you ran into a taller man.

The man turns around, but makes no move to help you. Instead, he gestures at you as a whole, "Aye- You're new?"

You turn towards the voice. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you saw him, "Oh god, you're John F Kennedy!"

He laughs, shaking his head, "Yes, Yes I am. And who are you?"

"Y/n."

He hums, "I don't remember that name-"

"It's complicated."

He laughs, "Haha! Complicated. I like you. I'm having a party Friday, you should come."

"Party? Like highschool party?"

"Aye, you are so funny!" He clasp a hand on your shoulder before letting out a hardy laugh. He wipes a tear from his eye and takes off.