Walking away, I try picturing Mr. Bartley changing his mind. Based on what I saw in Principal McNeil’s office, I highly doubt it. I try to imagine others choosing the alternative assignment. With the way so many of our classmates laughed when Jesse and Spencer gave the Nazi salute, I don’t see that happening, either. But for all our sakes, especially Logan’s, I hope I’m wrong.

Chapter 19: Logan

Together, Cade and I walk into History of World Governments and take our seats. Mr. Bartley’s not here yet.

Nervous and hopeful, I look around for potential allies. Most of our classmates have their phones out, music playing through earbuds. Heather’s long blond hair curtains her face and the book she’s reading. Daniel’s seat is empty. Mason, Kerrianne, Reg, Jesse, and Spencer huddle together around a tablet perched on Mason’s desk. No surprise, they’re watching a replay of the boys’ last hockey game. All day, it’s been playing on monitors in our lunchroom and hallways. Incentive, I guess, to get us into the team spirit and cheer on our Riviere Rockets for Saturday’s regionals. Posters fill nearly every RHS wall. The team’s lockers, inside and out, are decorated from top to bottom. To show support, we’re encouraged to write positive messages. Some of the girls put lipstick on and leave their marks. I won’t be doing that.

The bell rings and Mr. Bartley comes in and shuts the door. He sets a small stack of papers on his desk, then calls out, “Settle down. I have an announcement to make.” He moves to the front of the room, clasps his hands, and waits for everyone’s full attention. It doesn’t take long.

“Regarding the Wannsee Conference and the Final Solution debate assignment. I believe you’re mature enough to research the Nazis’ perspective, reenact this historic event, and come to a logical conclusion.”

Logical conclusion? Logical? Why is he assuming everyone is against Nazis? Every day the news is filled with hate crimes. I wonder if I should raise my hand and mention the mass shooting at that Pittsburgh synagogue or the massacre at the Black church in South Carolina? I remember reading that the guy was a white supremacist. Sometime before the shooting, he took a photo with a Confederate flag. There are people in this community, in this room, with Confederate flags. I look at Jesse. Who else?

Mr. Bartley continues. “If we don’t fully understand the opposition by putting ourselves in their shoes, how can we truly formulate our own opinions?”

I blurt out, “What about putting ourselves in the shoes of the people murdered?”