Still, Tiffany’s contempt had made the cabin feel smaller.
Jasmine looked out at the runway. She had promised her father she would call after takeoff.
She had not promised him she would tell him about every ugly encounter. She wanted to handle this herself.
Then the cabin door opened again, and a woman in a summer-inappropriate faux-fur coat swept inside, covered in gold jewelry and carrying a designer handbag. She looked around as though the plane had personally offended her.
“This is unacceptable,” Eleanor Vance snapped. “I was promised the bulkhead.
I need legroom. My sciatica is acting up.”
Tiffany’s expression transformed instantly into eager concern. “Mrs.
Vance, I’m so sorry. We’ll make it right.”
Eleanor pointed to seat 1B, beside Jasmine. “I want the window seat.
I want that one.”
Tiffany approached Jasmine and tapped her shoulder hard enough to jolt her against the headrest. “We have a situation,” she said, wearing a false smile.
“Mrs. Vance is a Diamond-level frequent flyer and a personal friend of the airline’s CEO.
She requires the window seat for medical reasons.”
Jasmine glanced at the seat beside her, then back at Tiffany. “I’m sorry she’s uncomfortable.
But I booked this seat three months ago.”
“It doesn’t matter when you booked it,” Tiffany snapped. “We need to accommodate important passengers.”
“I am a passenger. I have a ticket for 1A.”
Eleanor leaned over the aisle, inspecting Jasmine with open disdain. “Honestly, darling, why make this difficult?
You can sit in economy. You’ll have more room to stretch your legs back there.”
Jasmine felt every eye in the cabin turn toward her. Some passengers looked uncomfortable; others watched with the detached interest people sometimes brought to someone else’s humiliation.
The older businessman, Mr. Henderson, gave a small shrug as if this were an inconvenience that would sort itself out.
“Please show me the policy that allows you to take my assigned seat,” Jasmine said.
Tiffany’s jaw tightened. “I’m the flight attendant.
I decide how we manage the cabin.”
“No, you don’t get to invent a policy because you dislike my clothes.”
A young man in 1C lowered his phone, then raised it again, recording openly. Tiffany noticed and pointed at him.
“Put that away. You’re not allowed to film crew members.”
“You’re not allowed to take somebody’s phone,” he answered. “She showed you a valid boarding pass.”
Tiffany’s cheeks reddened. She turned back to Jasmine, speaking louder now.
“You need to stand up and collect your belongings. We’re moving you to economy.”
“I won’t move unless the airline gives me a legitimate reason and documents the change.”
Eleanor let out a sharp laugh. “Listen to her.
She thinks she’s a lawyer.”
Jasmine’s throat felt tight, but she kept her voice even. “I’m a university student.
I don’t have to be a lawyer to know that you can’t just take my seat because someone richer wants it.”
The words landed harder than she expected. A woman across the aisle murmured, “That’s right.”
Another passenger quietly asked a crew member whether the captain knew what was happening. Tiffany ignored them and reached toward Jasmine’s arm.
“Get up,” she ordered.
Jasmine pulled her arm back. “Do not touch me.”
Tiffany grabbed the sleeve of her hoodie anyway and tugged. The sudden movement dragged Jasmine halfway out of the seat.
Her shoulder struck the armrest, and a small gasp escaped her. The young man in 1C stood up.
“Hey! You can’t put your hands on her!”
Tiffany released Jasmine and stepped back, immediately switching to a performance of injured authority. “She became aggressive.
I’m trying to resolve a seating issue.”
“I didn’t touch you,” Jasmine said. “You pulled me.”