Other students stopped laughing because there was no reaction to complete the joke. Ethan told Sophie during lunch that she looked obsessed. Several students laughed at her rather than with her.
Sophie’s expression changed. “You’re taking her side now?” she asked. Ethan answered, “There shouldn’t be sides. Just leave her alone.”
That social shift made Sophie more reckless. She had spent months treating Janelle as someone with less standing at Westbridge, yet now classmates who had known Sophie for years were openly challenging her behavior. The humiliation she believed she was delivering had begun returning to her.
Then Northwestern accepted Janelle. The school counseling office posted a board celebrating early college results, and Janelle’s name appeared beneath the purple Northwestern logo. Nicole cried when she saw the acceptance letter, Derrick bought a cake large enough for twenty people, and Janelle spent one weekend allowing herself to be excited.
On Monday, Sophie stood near the college board with two friends. She looked at Janelle’s name and said, “Universities really love a good diversity story.” Ethan happened to be walking past.
“Can you just say she got in?” he asked. Sophie told him he was becoming dramatic too. Ethan answered, “No, you just cannot let her earn anything.”
A nearby student recorded the exchange. Dean Sloan watched it that afternoon.
Sophie received a no-contact directive prohibiting her from approaching Janelle unnecessarily or discussing her race, fellowship, family finances, or college admission. Another violation could result in suspension. Her parents challenged the order, arguing that Sophie was being punished for expressing opinions.
Headmaster Daniel Warren reviewed the year-long file with them. He placed every documented incident into chronological order. By the end of the meeting, even Sophie’s mother had stopped calling the behavior random.
The no-contact order worked through most of February. Janelle’s senior year finally became normal enough that she stopped thinking about Sophie every day. She worked on her history research, attended newspaper meetings, and began compiling handwritten notes for a project about Black families affected by school redistricting during the 1960s and 1970s.
Those notes filled the red binder that eventually landed in the fountain. Several pages contained transcribed interviews with elderly residents who had trusted Janelle with family stories. She had digital audio backups, but much of her annotation existed only on paper. The binder mattered far more than Sophie understood.
The week of the fountain incident began with another conflict. Westbridge announced that Janelle’s research project had been selected for presentation at the statewide student-history symposium. Sophie heard the news during assembly.
She made no comment in public. Later, however, a student overheard her telling a friend, “Of course they picked that topic. Nobody at this school wants to say no to her anymore.” The statement was reported to Dean Sloan.
Sophie was called to the office on Wednesday and reminded that she was under a no-contact directive. She insisted she had not spoken to Janelle directly. Technically, that was true.
Thursday afternoon, both girls happened to cross the fountain courtyard after their final classes. Janelle was carrying her Government textbook, history binder, two notebooks, and several library books. Sophie was walking toward the parking lot.
She saw Janelle before Janelle saw her. Ethan and his friend Noah Briggs were sitting on the bench near the fountain, talking while waiting for tennis practice. Ethan later remembered Sophie slowing down when she noticed the books in Janelle’s arms.
Janelle looked up and saw her approaching. She moved slightly to the right. Sophie moved into the same path.
“Excuse me,” Janelle said. Sophie looked at the stack.
“More award-winning material?”
Janelle did not answer.
She stepped left.
Sophie reached out.
The books disappeared from Janelle’s arms so quickly she barely understood what happened. Sophie caught several against her chest, turned, and threw them into the fountain.
The red binder opened before hitting the water. Pages separated instantly.
Janelle stared.
Ethan stood.
“Sophie, what the hell?”
Sophie laughed.
“It’s water.”
Janelle looked at her.
“My project is in there.”
“Then get it.”
The casual answer broke whatever patience remained.
Janelle stepped toward the fountain.
Sophie moved behind her and put a hand against her upper back.
Janelle turned sharply.
“Do not touch me.”
Sophie raised both hands mockingly.
“Everybody look out.”
Janelle started toward the water again.
Sophie followed.
“You’re going to report this too?”
“Yes.”
“For books?”
“For everything.”
Sophie’s smile disappeared.