One Sniff, One Lifetime of Regret

While I was waiting for my best friend, a girl I didn’t know walked past me. I caught a faint trace of her perfume. My allergies were acting up, so I instinctively sniffed hard. The girl immediately turned around and marched up to me, scowling, demanding $299. “This is designer perfume I just bought. One bottle costs forty-four thousand dollars!” “I only sprayed it twice, and now you’ve sniffed it all away! Pay up, or I’m calling the cops!” Looking at her impatient face, I refused without hesitation. Her expression twisted, and she reached straight for my hair. I froze. Two hundred and ninety-nine dollars? Because I’d taken an extra breath? When I didn’t respond, she impatiently shoved her phone closer. The payment QR code on her screen nearly touched the tip of my nose. “Hey, are you deaf? Scan it! Stop wasting my time!” I swallowed my disbelief and tried to explain politely. “Sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose. I have allergies. I was just trying to clear my nose…” “Please.” She sneered, looking me up and down. “I’ve heard that one before. Look at you. Broke and still trying to act innocent. Just admit you wanted something for free. Spare me the excuses!” Her voice was shrill enough to make people nearby turn and stare. “This perfume is expensive. One sniff costs $299! Hurry up!” She jerked her hand upward. Her phone smacked into my glasses, knocking them crooked. The world behind my lenses blurred. Anger shot straight to my head. I straightened my glasses, my gaze turning cold. “What the hell is wrong with you?” “People walk up and down this street all day. Does everyone who passes you and smells your perfume have to send you $299? What are you, a walking ATM?” She faltered, then flushed with rage. “You… How dare you insult me!” Just then, my best friend called. I had no interest in arguing with this lunatic. I answered and turned to leave. “Hey, I’m—” Before I could finish, a tearing pain ripped through my scalp. I gasped and turned to find her face twisted with fury. She’d grabbed a fistful of my hair from behind. “Trying to run? You’re not going anywhere until you pay me and apologize!” There was nothing delicate about her now. My head buzzed, adrenaline surged, and I grabbed her wrist without thinking. I yanked her hand away and shoved her back. “You actually attacked me?” Without hesitation, I took out my phone and called the police. They arrived quickly. After listening to her rambling, contradictory story, the two officers looked even more speechless than I felt. The older officer fixed her with a stern look. “Demanding money because someone smelled your perfume? This isn’t some harmless prank. Do you understand that this is extortion?” “She took advantage of me first!” the girl argued. “My perfume is expensive! One ounce costs forty-five thousand dollars!” The officer was done debating. He indicated his body camera. “Fine. If you won’t cooperate, we can take this further. You look like a college student. Let’s see your student ID. We can contact your school and have someone come down here. I’d love to hear what they think of this behavior.” The moment he mentioned her school, her arrogance vanished. Her whole attitude changed. Head lowered, she reluctantly forced out an apology. “I’m sorry.” “And?” The officer pointed at my reddened scalp. “You assaulted her and caused an injury. What about her medical expenses and compensation?” In the end, under police supervision, she grudgingly transferred $500 to me. I rubbed my aching scalp and watched her slink away, wondering why I’d bothered leaving the house today. Just my luck.After meeting up with my best friend and venting, I was rubbing my still-sore scalp, ready to curse the girl out all over again. Then my phone chimed. It was a message from my advisor. [Claire, we have a new member joining our research team tomorrow. I’d like you to show her the ropes.] My brow immediately furrowed. Our project was confidential. Every team member had gone through a rigorous screening process and had a specific role. Why were we suddenly taking someone new? But I was only the team lead. My advisor had the final say. All I could do was sigh. The next day, I’d barely arrived at the lab before my advisor called me into his office. “Claire,” he began, looking uncomfortable, “the young woman who’s joining us is the department chair’s niece.” My heart sank. “She’s just here to polish her résumé and get some research experience. She won’t stay long. Be patient with her, and don’t let her access any core data.” So she was a nepotism hire. Considering how much funding the department chair had helped secure for our project, what could I say? “Of course, Dr. Morgan. I understand.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Fine. We’d been handed a spoiled princess. We’d just have to humor her. What I never expected was that we hadn’t been handed a princess. We’d been handed a walking disaster. When Dr. Morgan led a girl in a Chanel suit and flawless makeup into the lab, I went rigid. It was her. The perfume girl who’d tried to shake me down yesterday. She clearly recognized me, too. Her sweet smile froze. Surprise and guilt flickered in her eyes before contempt and disgust took their place. Oblivious, Dr. Morgan introduced her warmly. “Everyone, this is our newest member, Vanessa Sterling. Claire, she’ll be working with your team.” Vanessa Sterling. Even her name sounded like a spoiled heiress. After a few instructions, Dr. Morgan hurried off, leaving us alone. The second he was gone, Vanessa dropped the act. She folded her arms and gave me a sideways look, a nasty smile curling her lips. “Well, look who it is. How does someone as broke as you even get into a place like this?” The other team members exchanged confused looks. I laughed in disbelief. Instead of wasting words, I unzipped my backpack, pulled a folded sheet of paper from an inner pocket, and slapped it onto the table. “Vanessa Sterling, right? Yesterday at 3:15 p.m., on the pedestrian shopping street on Westbrook Avenue, someone who looked an awful lot like you claimed I’d smelled her forty-five-thousand-dollar perfume and demanded $299.” I paused, staring straight into her increasingly panicked eyes. “She also grabbed my hair. The officers at the scene identified it as attempted extortion and assault. This is the incident receipt they gave me. The outcome is right here in writing: she paid me $500 to cover medical expenses and emotional distress.” Vanessa went white. She stiffened her neck and shrieked, trying to sound brave. “You’re lying! I… I don’t even know you!” “Really?” Without expression, I took out my phone and opened my call history. “I saved the officer’s number. Should I call him right now and ask whether I’m making false accusations?” Her lips trembled. Not a word came out. By now, the others had figured out most of what had happened. They rushed to smooth things over. “Come on, this must be a misunderstanding!” “We’re all on the same team now. We’ll be seeing each other every day. Let’s try to get along!” Vanessa seized the escape route. After shooting me a vicious glare, she stalked to her empty workstation and slammed her designer bag onto the desk. I put the receipt away, but I didn’t feel relieved. From the way she looked at me, as though she wanted to murder me a thousand times over, I knew one thing. My days weren’t going to be peaceful anymore.My instincts were usually right. Sure enough, Vanessa didn’t give me a moment’s peace that morning. She trailed after me like an endlessly curious child, pointing at the autoclave. “What does this do?” Then she poked the clean bench. “And how do you use this?” I stayed patient. Assuming she truly knew nothing, I explained how to operate the basic equipment and went through all the safety precautions. But as soon as I finished, she returned with a cup of coffee. Pointing a French-manicured finger at the centrifuge, she asked carelessly, “What about this one? You talked too fast earlier. I forgot.” My hands stopped. This was the third time she’d asked me how to use the centrifuge. I looked up at her calmly. “Vanessa, if you can’t tell a centrifuge from a petri dish, you clearly didn’t pay attention in your introductory courses. The operating manuals are in cabinet three. Or you can look it up online.” Then I turned away and went back to my data. Behind me, Vanessa’s lips went pale with anger. Her fingers trembled around her coffee cup. I could practically feel her glare burning a hole through my back. But in the end, she said nothing. I thought she might settle down for a while. Instead, she changed tactics. That afternoon, after finishing my data analysis, I returned to the lab and opened the door to a scene that stopped me short. The center table was covered with imported snacks, bubble tea, and cakes. Several team members were gathered around Vanessa, laughing and chatting. “You didn’t have to do all this, Vanessa! Ask us anything you need.” “Seriously. We’ll make sure you settle in!” Surrounded by her new admirers, Vanessa beamed, her voice syrupy sweet. “Thank you all so much. I’m new and don’t know anything yet, so I’ll be counting on you.” She spotted me in the doorway, and a smug edge crept into her smile. “Oh, Claire, you’re back. I’m so sorry. We were in such a rush ordering snacks that I completely forgot about you.” She paused, covering her mouth with a little laugh of mock surprise. “Then again, you just came into that five-hundred-dollar ‘windfall’ yesterday. I’m sure my little treats aren’t good enough for you anyway, right?” The lively room fell silent. The others stopped laughing. They looked from her to me, their expressions tense and awkward. Everyone could hear the barb. I ignored her provocation. I didn’t even bother raising an eyebrow. I simply lifted my hand and pointed at the rules posted on the wall. “Lab Safety Policy, Section Three, Rule One.” I frowned. “No eating or drinking in experimental areas. Any crumbs or waste can contaminate samples and skew our data. Which one of you is prepared to take responsibility for that?” Vanessa’s face turned bright red. “You’re just jealous you didn’t get any! Do you really have to make a huge deal out of it and throw the rules in my face?” She snapped back indignantly. “Everyone’s working so hard. What’s wrong with having a snack? You’re the only one acting like you’re better than everyone!” This time, nobody backed her up. The others looked even worse than she did. The words “contaminate samples” sent them scrambling to clear the table, stuffing unfinished snacks into the trash. They knew better than anyone how important our project was. “Hey, stop cleaning up! I…” Vanessa hadn’t expected the loyalty she’d bought to disappear so quickly. She tried to stop them, but no one listened. As her carefully staged little gathering collapsed, all her humiliation and anger boiled over. She let out a shriek and spun toward me, glaring. “Claire Bennett! You did this on purpose!”Vanessa jabbed a finger at me, seething. “You’re targeting me because I’m pretty and rich! “A dull, lonely woman who does nothing but experiments all day—of course you’re jealous of someone young and full of life!” I almost laughed. The other women on our team, who wore glasses and no makeup just like I did, frowned, too. Naturally, Vanessa didn’t realize she’d insulted them along with me. “On purpose?” I scoffed, pulled the thin Lab Safety Handbook from a nearby shelf, and tossed it against her chest. “Every piece of data in this lab represents someone’s hard work! If all you care about is playing queen bee, and you can’t respect anyone else’s work, you can leave. If you want to stay, copy Section Three, Rule One a hundred times. Maybe then you’ll remember it.” “If this happens again, don’t bother coming back.” Her face turned dark red. She clutched the booklet so hard her fingers tightened, but she couldn’t come up with a single word in response. After that, she actually behaved for a few days. Then, following my advisor’s instructions, I reviewed everyone’s experimental reports. One glance at Vanessa’s made me frown. Several key decimal points were wildly misplaced. The figures made no logical sense. The whole thing was obviously fabricated, almost as though she’d had AI generate it. I didn’t want another pointless argument, so I messaged her on WhatsApp, marked the errors, and asked her to revise them. She never replied. When I got to the lab, she was touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror. I walked over. “Vanessa, there are problems with your report. I sent you a message yesterday. Did you read it?” She snapped her mirror shut and turned toward me, radiating irritation. “You’re not my advisor. What gives you the right to pick apart my report?” “I always got excellent grades on my assignments. Do you really think I need you teaching me?” She looked me up and down, her mouth twisting. “All the attitude of a professor, none of the qualifications.” I laughed. Trying to reason with an idiot was a waste of my life. I nodded with a short, mocking laugh. “Fine. You’re the expert.” Then, right in front of her, I logged into the system and submitted her “excellent” report. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, our advisor’s anger erupted in the project group chat.