Our desks are arranged in a circle facing each other. Cade and I take the two closest to the door. Toward the front of the room, there’s a one-chair gap, and that’s where Mr. Bartley locks the wheelchair in place.

I look closely at Mr. Bartley. It’s hard for me to believe that I used to hang on every one of this man’s words.

Mason and Jesse huddle together a few feet away from Cade and me, their voices low, angry. Mason looks ready to explode, but then Mr. Bartley steps in. “Mason, Jesse. Take a seat. I want the two of you sitting next to each other.”

“Why?” Jesse asks, furious.

Mr. Bartley holds up his hands, palms an inch from each other. “Because I’m this close to sending both of you to Principal McNeil’s office and having you expelled for fighting. Prove to me you can behave like gentlemen and I’ll give you a stay of execution.”

Mason glances over at me and takes a seat. We haven’t said a word to each other since the day he helped me remove the hateful Post-it notes. I need to talk with him. Even though I apologized, it doesn’t seem like enough. Rumor has it that he broke up with Kerrianne, but since she sits next to him, I’m not sure that’s true. Jesse grudgingly fills the chair on Mason’s other side, but scoots as far over as he possibly can.

The veteran has a penetrating gaze. He seems to be sizing up our class. He probably was a drill sergeant, and I get the sense that he’s not impressed. I’m not impressed, either. My faith in Mr. Bartley slips to below zero. From the way Cade’s angled toward the door, I’m pretty sure he’s set to bolt and that the only thing keeping him chained to his seat is me.

Notably, Daniel is absent. I’m not sure where he disappeared to after the protest.

There are two empty desks, and—no surprise—they are on either side of Spencer. One should have been for Reg, but rumor has it he’s been suspended or expelled. No one knows why or if they do, they’re not talking.

Mr. Bartley stands to the right of Spencer, resting his hands on the back of that empty chair. He looks at each of us, exuding authority like an army commander. Earlier, I thought he was furious. But that doesn’t come close to the controlled anger he radiates now.

When the silence is nearly unbearable, Mr. Bartley says, “I made a grave error in judgment. I’m canceling the Wannsee Conference debate. Please get out your papers and pass them to me.”