"Aiyoo! What's that smell?!"
A middle-aged woman clamped a handkerchief over her nose and looked wildly around the crowded bus, causing heads to turn.
The rain outside was relentless, and the bus was packed full, the windows fogged with humidity and the collective body heat of too many passengers.
Jay had managed to claim a good spot by the window. She was resting her head against the glass, her earbuds in, Dandelion by Ruth B. playing softly in her ears, when the woman's loud complaint pierced the air.
Jay barely reacted, choosing instead to continue watching the raindrops race down the window, pretending not to notice the growing commotion.
"Hey, you!" the woman shouted after a few moments when no one responded to her. She flapped her handkerchief dramatically like a flag of distress. "Hye girl! I'm talking to you! Are you deaf?"
Startled, Jay pulled out one of her earbuds and turned toward the woman with wide, innocent eyes.
"Yes?" she said cautiously.
"Are you deaf?!" the woman barked again, her voice shrill.
"Auntie, I was..." Jay lifted the loose earbud for her to see, trying to explain herself with an innocent, almost pleading look.
"Hmph! Disrespectful brat," the woman muttered under her breath, glaring at her. "Because of you, all of us are suffering!"
"Because of me?" Jay repeated in confusion, glancing around. She realized, to her horror, that everyone on the bus was now watching the exchange.
"There's such a bad smell coming from you!" the woman accused, waving her handkerchief in front of her nose. "I can't even breathe here! None of us can! Am I right, everyone?!"
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the bus.
Jay felt like her soul was being ripped apart in slow motion. She stared in disbelief, her heart pounding so loudly she could hardly hear the rain anymore.
"What?!" Jay cried, utterly shocked. This wasn't just embarrassing — this was the sort of thing you remembered in flashes at 3 a.m. for the rest of your life.
"What are you talking about, Auntie?!" Jay whimpered, sniffing herself frantically. "I'm not smelling!!" she cried.
Without warning, the woman leaned in aggressively, sniffed at Jay's collar — and then recoiled so dramatically she nearly fell backward.
"Oh God!!" the woman shouted. "This girl—! She's lying through her teeth! I can smell her even from here!"
Jay's eyes filled with tears. She looked around at the bus passengers — men, women, even a few children — all staring at her like she was some foul anomaly.
"It's... it's not me," she said weakly, her voice barely carrying over the rumble of thunder outside.
But it was too late.
Before anyone could add to the humiliation, Jay jumped to her feet and slammed the stop button, even though her actual stop was still far away.
The bus screeched slightly as it pulled over. Jay, head bowed low, pushed her way through the cramped aisle and stumbled off into the torrential rain.
The bus roared away, leaving her standing alone on the side of a deserted street, drenched within seconds.
She stood there, trembling, feeling the weight of a hundred accusing stares still burning into her skin.
Suddenly, she heard the screech of brakes again.
She turned and saw the bus, now some distance away, pulling over once more. A figure hesitated at the door before stepping down carefully onto the wet pavement.
The girl looked around, squinting through the rain, spotted Jay, and began running toward her.
Jay blinked, confused, as the girl arrived and, without a word, swung open a bright blue umbrella over both of them, sheltering them from the downpour.
The girl, around Jay's age, wore a grey hoodie under a raincoat. Her face was neutral — no pity, no judgment.
Jay stared up at the umbrella, then at the stranger holding it for her.
"Thank you..." Jay mumbled, her head bowed in shame.
"Don't be," the girl said lightly. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you."
Jay looked up at her, startled.
"I should've stood up for you," the girl said seriously. "I knew it. I knew it wasn't you — it was the peppermint smell."
"What?" Jay asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and hope.
The girl nodded. "Yeah. I realized it the moment the woman started yelling. That strong minty smell... It wasn't body odor. It was peppermint."
Jay opened her mouth, but the words refused to come out.
The girl chuckled softly. "Don't worry though. I got you revenge."
Jay stared at her, wide-eyed. "You... what?"
"I poured peppermint oil on her," the girl said proudly, her voice a mischievous whisper.
Jay's mouth dropped open in horror and awe. "You poured peppermint oil... on her?!"
"Well, not a lot," she said quickly, as if to reassure her. "Just a few drops. And I gave her the bottle as a gift. Told her it's a remedy for anger and anxiety and of course of the bad smell like a wet dog that came off of her. Told her she needed it more than the rest of us."
Jay covered her mouth with her hands, shocked and struggling between laughter and tears.
"And then," the girl continued, smiling brightly, "everyone started laughing and agreeing. They all condemned her behavior. One guy even said she was being a bully. That's when I slipped out to find you."
Jay let out a choked laugh, wiping her wet cheeks.
"I talk too much, don't I?" the girl said, suddenly a bit shy.
Jay shook her head vigorously. She was overwhelmed — not just by the girl's kindness but by the absurd kindness in the middle of her worst moment.
Then, unexpectedly, Jay started laughing. Really laughing. A bright, broken sound.
But even as she laughed, tears started streaming down her face again, uncontrollably.
"Ahh! Don't cry!" the girl said, panicking. "Oh no—hey, it's okay, okay?? I didn't mean to make you cry!"
"I—I'm not—I'm just—" Jay tried to explain between gasps and giggles, wiping her face clumsily with her sleeves.
"You're happy crying? Sad crying? Which one is it?!" the girl asked, shouting in full panic.
"Both!" Jay squeaked out.