The fluorescent lights of the science hall buzzed overhead as students filled the room for Professor Klein's Advanced Research Methods class. Stephanie sat near the front, notebook open, fingers twitching around her pen.
A week ago, Professor Klein had announced the semester's biggest assignment — a solo research project that would count for thirty percent of their final grade. Students had drawn topics randomly, and Stephanie had ended up with "Microbial Reactions in Aquatic Environments."
It wasn't exactly her area of interest, but she had accepted it without complaint. She needed this class. Needed the grades. Her scholarship renewal depended on it.
"Today," Professor Klein announced, walking briskly to the front of the room, "a few of you will share your project outlines. I'll be evaluating not just your concepts but your understanding of the methodology. Miss weston, you're up."
Stephanie's heart dropped. She hadn't expected to be called this early. She'd spent the entire weekend working on her outline, but she still wasn't confident. Slowly, she stood and made her way to the front.
Clearing her throat, she began, "My research will focus on how bacterial activity responds to changes in water salinity, particularly in semi-urban rivers where industrial runoff is common…"
Professor Klein folded his arms, listening in silence. Halfway through her explanation, he cut her off.
"And your methodology?" he asked.
Stephanie blinked. "I—I plan to test multiple water samples with controlled salinity levels over a four-week period. The bacterial growth rates will be measured—"
"With what statistical tool?"
She hesitated. "I was thinking of using the chi-square test to analyze variations in—"
"You were thinking?" he interrupted. His voice rang across the silent room like a gavel. "You're handling bio-statistical data and your plan is still uncertain? This is not high school science, Miss Hayes."
A few students chuckled under their breath. Stephanie's face flushed crimson.
"If this is the depth of your preparation," Klein continued, "I strongly suggest you reconsider your topic—or your place in this department."
She returned to her seat slowly, her chest tight. Her fingers curled around her pen, gripping it like a lifeline.
Katherine was waiting for her outside after class, eyes wide with disbelief. "What was that man's problem?"
Stephanie shook her head, trying to hold it together. "He's right. I wasn't ready."
Katherine narrowed her eyes. "Steph, no one was ready. He didn't even look at your data sheet. He just humiliated you to set an example."
The two of them walked in silence through the main corridor of the science faculty building, where voices echoed and students shuffled past. It wasn't long before another voice rang out—sharp and sarcastic.
"Oh, come on. I'm sure the scholarship girl can handle a little feedback," said Vanessa Quinn, stepping in front of them.
Stephanie's stomach dropped again.
Vanessa, top of her class in communications and infamously sharp-tongued, stood with her arms folded, an amused smile playing on her lips.
"I mean," she added, "not everyone can juggle academics and playing poor princess, right? It's bound to crack somewhere."
Katherine scoffed. "Vanessa, don't you have anything better to do? Like chasing your next PR headline?"
Vanessa tilted her head, ignoring Katherine completely. "You know, Stephanie… it's sad, really. You try so hard to fit in here, but some of us were just born for this world."
Stephanie didn't reply. She didn't trust her voice. She simply walked past, holding her chin up, even though the words stung more than she wanted to admit.
---
Later that evening, Stephanie sat at her desk, textbooks open, notes scattered across the surface. But her thoughts weren't on salinity or bacteria. They were spinning with doubt, with frustration, with a quiet kind of fury.
She had worked too hard to be dismissed like that. And she couldn't afford to fail. Not when her entire future hinged on this degree. On keeping that scholarship.
Her eyes drifted to her project sheet. Slowly, her hand moved, adjusting her notes, rewriting her methodology. If Professor Klein wanted depth, she'd give him more than he expected.
She wasn't going to break.
Not for a bitter professor.
Not for a spoiled rival.
Not for anyone.