We take our copies. It’s exactly what we presented, plus some specific instructions regarding the paper we’re to write, similar to what was on the original assignment. Mr. Bartley says something, but I tune him out. I’m listening to some of the arguments my classmates discuss. It’s like I’m in a room filled with white supremacists.

“Hitler said, ‘It’s either victory of the Aryan, or the annihilation of the Aryan and the victory of the Jew.’ Are we going to let the Jew destroy us or are we going to destroy them?” Even though my back is to the class, I recognize Reg’s voice.

Oh. My. God. My head is spinning.

Someone else says, “Survival of the fittest. The Nuremberg Laws made sure pure blood wouldn’t mix with tainted blood…”

And another voice. “Jews aren’t the only inferior race. According to this site, Africans, Slavs, Roma, Poles, people with physical or cognitive disabilities, Jehovah’s Witnesses, homosexuals and prostitutes—”

I tune into Jesse, who says, “Genetically, Jews are predisposed to greediness, deception—”

Heather Jameson interrupts. “You seriously cannot believe there’s a gene…”

“Logan?” Mr. Bartley draws my attention back to him. “Same due date. I look forward to reading your papers.”

“Do you hear what people are saying?” I ask.

“Logan.” Mr. Bartley’s tone conveys frustration. He stands. “Question, class. Raise your hand if you personally support and believe in the arguments for your debate position.” He pauses, scans the room. “Raise your hand if this reenactment has turned you into a Nazi.” Again, he pauses. “Anyone?” Mr. Bartley refocuses on us. “So, there you have it. There’s no need to worry. Let’s put this behind us.” It’s not a question.

The bell rings and, as our classmates leave, Cade and I get some dirty looks. Jesse gives Mr. Bartley a military salute as he exits the room. Mason makes his way over to us, and whispers, “You didn’t deserve that,” then heads for the door. Kerrianne doesn’t meet my gaze.

I want to say something to Mr. Bartley but have no idea how to stop this train wreck.

Cade and I walk out together. Never could I have imagined being singled out this way. Never could I have imagined Mason looking at me with so much pity. And never, ever could I have imagined that my favorite teacher would make an absurd and horrifying endorsement for intolerance and follow it up by humiliating us in front of the entire class.

Chapter 20: Cade

Logan and I don’t say a word as we walk to our lockers, collect our things, and head to her car. Roadkill pretty much describes how I’m feeling right now. I buckle my seat belt, shift to face Logan, and ask the one question stuck in my head since we left Mr. Bartley’s classroom. “Now what?”