When Logan and I prepared for this scenario, we agreed I would deliver our ace in the hole only if needed. I reach for her hand, squeeze it, letting her know I’m going for it. If this doesn’t convince them to change the assignment, nothing will.

Immediately, my throat tightens up. “Principal McNeil, I found out that in 2013 an Albany high school English teacher gave her students an assignment kind of like this one. They were told to imagine that their teacher was a member of the Nazi government. They had to write a persuasive paper to—and I quote—‘argue that Jews are evil.’ ” I swallow hard. “It was all over the internet. The teacher was put on leave.”

There’s an awkward pause.

“We’re not here to make trouble. All we’re asking you to do is cancel the assignment. Let everyone do the alternative.” I glance at Logan. “That’s it. That’s all we have to say.”

Principal McNeil flattens his palms on his desk and stands. “This is very impressive work. It’s clear you put a tremendous amount of effort into it.” He picks up a pen and uncaps it. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Bartley for a few minutes.”

He walks around his desk and ushers us out.

Chapter 16: Principal Arthur Mcneil

When Arthur McNeil hired Joe Bartley three years ago, he was pleased by the prestige Joe brought the school. The year before, Joe had finished his twentieth year teaching in Maryland. Because of his innovative ways of teaching history, Joe had received the Maryland Teacher of the Year Award. Arthur had milked it for all the positive publicity the school could get. He even felt that it helped motivate new families to move to Riviere. And now Cade and Logan dangle a veiled threat over their heads, comparing Joe’s thought-provoking debate to the essay given by the teacher who was put on leave in Albany?

He motions for Joe to sit, then opens a desk drawer and removes a bottle of acetaminophen. From a small refrigerator, he grabs two water bottles, giving one to Joe. He pops three pills and washes them down.

Picking up the teens’ document, he admires their hard work. For that alone, he’d give them an A. Begrudgingly, he has to admit they have some valid points, but they also overstepped student boundaries by telling them what should and shouldn’t be taught.

Still. He doesn’t want trouble. He wants this to go away.

On a frustrated sigh, he says, “Nothing’s changed, Joe. I support you one hundred percent. You work to engage these students and help them think outside the box and, like you, I see nothing wrong with your students reenacting this historical event. Your students need to understand how ordinary people were brainwashed to dehumanize the Jewish people. It happens every day.”

“Exactly.”