Mr. Bartley enters the hallway clutching his computer bag handle as if he’s carrying government secrets. Logan straightens, backs up a few steps until she touches the wall. He lifts his chin to acknowledge us. “Have a good evening, you two.”

“You too,” I mumble as he passes.

We track his steps, and only when he begins the descent to the main floor and disappears from view, does Logan speak. “I don’t understand the purpose of this assignment. I heard Mr. Bartley’s explanation, but it’s not right. Role-playing or not, history or not, an assignment requiring us to defend Nazis is wrong. Why would he want any of us to act like that?”

Nazis. I can still hear the bitterness in my grandpa’s shaky voice when he talked about Nazis. The way his mouth pinched, the pain that crinkled his brow when he told me the story of how he saved his Jewish friend. During one emotional moment, he stopped, struggled to maintain his composure as he gripped the sand block he was using.

This is not how I want to remember Grandpa. I try to conjure images of him standing behind our reception desk and welcoming guests, dancing with Nana with her hands covered in flour, or taking an early-morning walk together on the inn’s beach to watch the sun rise. But each one fades. I look at Logan. “We need to do something about this assignment.”

Defiance blooms in her eyes. “Damn right. What do you think we should do?”

Chapter 6: Logan and Blair

Video chat:

BLAIR: (on her smartphone, sitting in her beat-up car in the parking lot of JustaDollar, where she works as a cashier) Wow, Logan. I’m telling you, that assignment would never fly at Glenslope.

LOGAN: (on her laptop, sitting at her rummage sale desk she painted sky blue) You sure? This is a history class—

BLAIR: Hell yes, I’m sure. A billion percent. I don’t know how many Jewish students we have, but there are enough that we get a day off for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Half of our school is POC. If a teacher at our school gave out an assignment like that, I’m certain the majority of students and their parents would storm administration and get that racist antisemite fired.

LOGAN: We don’t want Mr. Bartley fired.

BLAIR: (surprised) Why not?

LOGAN: We only want the debate canceled. Mr. Bartley’s not a white supremacist. Normally, he’s a great teacher.

BLAIR: A good teacher would never give that assignment. I don’t get why you’re defending him. How well do you really know him?

LOGAN: (frustrated) I’m not defending him or the assignment, okay? Good people make mistakes. We want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’ll listen to us. I know he will.