But what’s even more surprising is what happens next. Heather grabs my hand, raises it up. She begins to sing “Hallelujah,” a song she sang with the RHS choir during the holiday concert that Cade and I attended. I take Daniel’s hand and lift it high, and suddenly, in a chain reaction, people join in.

Only a minute ago, the hallway reverberated with shouts—and now it reverberates with song. More and more people clasp hands, add their voices. Chills shoot down my spine as I join in on the one-word chorus. For a brief moment, my eyes connect with Heather’s. A soft smile curves on her lips as she pours her soul into the lyrics. I’m in awe of her and the power of music.

When we finish, Heather breaks the silence by calling out, “Hey, everyone, that song was written by Leonard Cohen, and in case you didn’t know it, he was Jewish!”

Mr. Bartley makes his way through the crowd, pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair. The man wears a baseball cap that says “World War II Vet.” It’s decorated with pins. Mr. Bartley opens his classroom door and ushers everyone in.

I move to the side and wait for Cade.

Now that the chaos has calmed down, it occurs to me that Mr. Bartley has let us down again. Why wasn’t he here waiting for us? He knew how contentious things have been, and with the debate scheduled today, wouldn’t it have been logical for him to greet students and usher us into his classroom? Couldn’t he have had someone else, like Miss Wather or a student, escort the veteran? This entire scene never would have happened if he had been here. Logic and common sense is exactly what’s been missing from this entire assignment.

He betrayed us, eroded my respect for him day after day, and even though I’m willing to hear him out, all the excuses, all the platitudes, and all the apologies in the world won’t change this fact: Although the assignment will soon be a part of my past and eventually I hope to forgive Mr. Bartley, nothing, nothing will ever be the same. I will never forget this. I will never, ever be able to step into his classroom or any classroom without being on guard. It’s a bitter pill, and Mr. Bartley shoved it down my throat.

Cade comes over. We take two steps into the classroom when Cade freezes. I follow his gaze. There’s a Nazi flag on the Smart Board. I look over at Cade. A small vein bulges along his neck. I wave my pointer finger between us and mouth, You walk. I walk. I walk. You walk.

He nods, his expression grim.