He looks at me. “As we’ve discussed, that’s a perfect argument to include in your papers.” Turning away, he says, “I recognize some of you may be uncomfortable with the Nazis’ point of view and find this assignment challenging. If you feel this way or have another valid reason why you don’t want to do this assignment, you have the option to do an alternative. At the end of class, there will be time to speak with me about that option.”

He steps forward. “I warn you now, the alternative assignment will not be easier. I have the same high standards and expect quality work—exactly what is expected of you for the Wannsee Conference debate. Are there any questions?”

Throughout his speech, there’s a hint of admonishment, judgment, in his tone. I can’t help but feel it’s directed at Cade and me and anyone else who might question the assignment.

A murmur goes through the room and I hear someone say, “Why would anyone have a problem with the assignment?” I dig my fingers into my thighs. I can barely breathe. “Because they’re whining babies,” someone mumbles. If Mr. Bartley heard, he doesn’t show it.

* * *

With ten minutes left of class, Mr. Bartley powers off the Smart Board. He says, “Anyone interested in the alternative assignment, this is your opportunity to speak with me. Otherwise, you may use this time for research or quietly discuss with other classmates your side of the Final Solution debate.”

Reg gets up, and my heart takes a big leap of joy, then crashes when he wanders over to the pencil sharpener.

I dust myself off when Daniel slides out of his chair. He has papers in his hand. I can’t help but watch as he approaches Mr. Bartley’s desk. Mr. Bartley’s surprise morphs to neutrality. He extends a piece of paper to Daniel. In bold letters it says, ALTERNATIVE ASSIGNMENT: Fort Ontario Emergency Refugee Shelter and WWII Immigration Laws. Daniel shakes his head. “I finished my research and paper over the weekend,” he murmurs. “I can’t attend the debate.”

He can’t? Maybe he has a doctor’s appointment?

Daniel slides his assignment over to Mr. Bartley, leans forward, whispers something I can’t hear. He stands in front of the desk and waits, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Mr. Bartley flips the paper over and nods.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Daniel adds.

Mr. Bartley hands Daniel a hall pass, and the moment Daniel steps away, Cade gets up and defiantly walks over to Mr. Bartley’s desk. In a second, I’m at his side. The hairs on the back of my neck rise like soldiers preparing for battle.

“So, you want to do the alternative assignment?” His voice is so loud I’m surprised there isn’t a bullhorn against his mouth.

“Most definitely,” I say.