Ellie’s desk was in the corner of the open office, the kind of spot that screamed newbie, tucked just far enough from the communal coffee machine that she couldn’t casually socialize without looking like she was trying too hard. Perfect.

Her first assignment arrived before she felt ready, but she had to admit that she didn’t think she would ever really be ready.  Better to jump in, than to over think things and end up in a panic attack, she thought.

She got the email in her inbox that started everything. The assignment read: Subject: Behavioral drift study — initial analysis by Friday?
Thanks and welcome! 😊
— Mira L.

That was it.  No detailed information about the project.  No direction or expectation, just “behavioral drift study”, by Friday. It was Wednesday. This was fine. Totally fine, she told herself. Her stomach did a small somersault anyway. At least at her previous job, they gave her more direction.  For this job, she was expected to understand the assignment.

“This is what I was trained for”, she said to herself.  She took a deep breath and opened the file from the email… and nearly closed it right back again.

The file included charts, models, and graphs labeled with acronyms she vaguely recognized from a grad class where she spent half the semester convinced her professor hated her. Behavioral Regression Analysis for Longitudinal Outcomes. Right. Cool. Just… do that.

For a moment she just stared at the screen, waiting for her past self, the one who applied for this job with heroic delusion, to show up with the necessary brainpower. No sign of her, yet.

She considered messaging her coworker Sam, the one who’d already invited her to the lunch group chat like she deserved friends but then imagined him reading her panicked question and realizing, instantly, that she was a fraud. Nope, she would have to figure this out on her own.

So instead she did what any anxious newcomer would do: she Googled wildly until she fell into a data science rabbit hole.

Halfway through an article titled “Explain It Like You’re Five: Mixed Effects Models,” a voice cut through the silence.

“New kid!” Sam leaned on the edge of her desk. “We do lunch at 12:15 sharp. We leave anyone who’s late.”

“Oh! Okay. I’ll be there,” Ellie said, hoping her smile hid the dread sitting on her chest.

Sam glanced at her monitor. “Behavioral drift, huh? They threw you in quick.”

“Yup,” she said cheerfully. “Love… drifting behaviors,” she muttered, her words dripping in sarcasm.

He chuckled, oblivious. “If you need anything, ask. We’ve all been the overwhelmed rookie.”

Ellie nodded, but inside, a single rule was etched in stone: Never admit confusion and certainly don’t ask questions. Ever.

When lunch rolled around, she followed the group down the street. Everyone chattered easily.  They talked about weekend plans, spicy vs. mild ramen, and how the project funding got approved at record speed. Ellie laughed when people laughed and nodded like she understood the inside jokes.

But her mind never really left the office.

The moment she got back to her desk, she dove into the analysis again — this time with caffeine and sheer panic as fuel. Hours blurred. Her neck ached. She deleted the draft twice. Then again, and even one more time late Thursday.

At 6:48 PM on Thursday evening, the office lights dimmed — a gentle hint that normal people had left long ago. Ellie hovered over the Send button. Her heart drummed against her ribs.

She checked the numbers one more time. And again. And—

Who was she kidding? She was guessing.

But if she didn’t send something, they’d know she couldn’t do it at all.

So she clicked.

Message sent.

Instant regret flooded her veins. She packed her things with trembling hands and hurried toward the elevator as if she could outrun her own inbox.

By the time she got home, she’d convinced herself of the worst-case scenario: tomorrow morning she’d show up and Mira would be waiting with security to revoke her badge.

She barely slept.

But when she returned, Mira was by the coffee machine, smiling like nothing was wrong.

“Ellie! Great foundation,” she said. “Let’s review later — just a few spots we can polish.”

Great foundation.

Ellie blinked in disbelief. “Really?”

“Of course. You’re doing exactly what we hoped you would.”

And just like that, the floor didn’t collapse beneath her feet. The world didn’t end. Her badge still worked and she could still sign on to her computer.

But the whisper in her head didn’t quiet.  If anything, it grew louder and sly:

You were lucky this time. They just haven’t looked close enough.

Ellie poured her coffee, nodded, and pretended to be confident.

Inside, she still waited for the moment somebody finally saw through the seams.