Everybody has one.
April arrived.
The Color Run was six weeks away.
Crestwood decided not to remove either coordinator while the review remained open, but Principal Hart divided responsibilities more sharply.
Jordan controlled safety stations, accessibility, nonprofit coordination, and medical volunteers.
Madeline controlled entertainment, student volunteers, photography zones, and sponsor signage.
They did not need private communication.
All event messages went through a shared faculty-monitored channel.
For several weeks, the system worked.
Jordan enjoyed planning again.
She spent a Saturday walking the course with a representative from the counseling nonprofit and identified a shaded rest point for students with sensory or respiratory concerns.
She arranged free participation for families unable to pay registration fees.
She convinced Bellamy Pharmacy to donate bottled water and sunscreen.
Her boss, Mrs. Bellamy, agreed mostly because Jordan had apparently been talking about the event during every Saturday shift for six months.
“You owe me free advertising,” Bellamy said.
Jordan promised to put the pharmacy logo somewhere tasteful.
Cameron volunteered to hand out water and immediately asked whether volunteers got free food.
Marcus told him public service was clearly alive in the next generation.
At school, Madeline watched the event become increasingly associated with Jordan’s community work.
That bothered her.
The original Color Run had been a Student Activities tradition.
Madeline had imagined herself standing at the finish line with a microphone, surrounded by cameras.
Now local news planned to interview Jordan about the counseling partnership.
A nonprofit director had thanked Jordan publicly.
The event still belonged to dozens of people, but Madeline felt displaced.
Private messages became harsher.
She took over everything.
Chloe replied, You still run half the event.
Nobody cares about that.
That’s not Jordan’s fault.
Madeline did not answer.
The Senior Service Award announcement made things worse.
Jordan won.
The ceremony lasted less than two minutes.
Principal Hart read a short paragraph about her pharmacy job, Youth Wellness Coalition work, newspaper service, and Color Run planning.
Jordan received a plaque.
Her family applauded.
Madeline sat in the auditorium eight rows behind her.
That night she messaged Chloe.
Of course.
Chloe did not respond.
Madeline sent another.
I’m so tired of everyone acting like she’s some saint.
Still nothing.
Then:
At least the Color Run will finally mess up that perfect image.
Chloe stared at the screen.
What does that mean?
Madeline answered:
Purple is her station. Relax.
Chloe screenshot the conversation.
She considered sending it to a teacher.
She did not.
Later she would wish she had.
The week before the event, Crestwood held mandatory volunteer training.
Jordan stood on the practice field demonstrating powder rules.
She wore safety goggles and an old tan T-shirt.
“Below shoulders,” she said.
A football player raised his hand.
“What if somebody ducks?”
“Then apologize and keep moving.”
“What if they deserve purple hair?”
Students laughed.
Jordan smiled.
“Then wait until after graduation and ask permission.”
More laughter.
Madeline stood near a folding table stacking powder containers.
Her expression never changed.
Jordan continued.
“If somebody says no powder, don’t throw powder at them. If someone has goggles on, that does not mean aim for the goggles.”
A student asked whether participants could throw powder at friends.
“Yes, if your friend is okay with it.”
“So consent?”
“Revolutionary concept.”
Even Ms. Beckett laughed.