Relief washes over me like I got an A on a difficult test. Until I notice his frown. “But?”

“But you’re my daughter. I can’t help but worry that taking this further will cause problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

He folds his reading glasses and lets them dangle by the chain around his neck. “No authority likes to be challenged.”

“We get that. But, Dad, this isn’t right. I’m sure they think they’re being reasonable by offering the alternative assignment to everyone, but it’s not enough.”

“Let me explain. You stand by your position, correct?” I nod. “Well, so do they. They believe they resolved the issue. You pursue this, there is a good chance they’ll perceive you as being unreasonable and difficult. They’re bound to be defensive.” He makes two fists and holds them out six inches apart. “This is you and Cade.” He lifts his left fist. “And this is Mr. Bartley and Principal McNeil.” He knocks his knuckles together like two rams butting heads.

“Yeah, but—”

“Hear me out. You go further with this, it’s possible—no, highly probable—they’ll dig in. Based on what you’ve told me, they see themselves as experts. You, as students, can’t possibly be right. At least that’s my take on it. In my twenty-five years of experience, I’ve had my share of teachers who don’t want to listen to students or be told how to teach.”

“Are you telling us to forget about it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Speaking up for what we believe is important, right?”

“A lot of people have strong convictions, yet do nothing.”

“But—”

“Are there other students in History of World Governments who feel the same way you and Cade do?”

“Maybe?”

“Why didn’t they speak out? They’ve had the same opportunity to go to Mr. Bartley and express their objections. What stopped them?”

I hesitate, then say, “Well, if there are others, then they’re definitely in the minority. We felt intimidated, so I’m guessing they’re probably too afraid to go against Mr. Bartley.” I think of Mason and what he said when the bell rang. You didn’t deserve that. No, we didn’t. It would have been nice if he’d said it to Mr. Bartley.

Dad rubs his eyes, and when he drops his hands, they’re a sea of emotion. “Here’s the question you really need to think about. If you let this go, could you live with it?”

My instinct is to say no. But I stay silent, glance out the window. Every second I’ve spent arguing with Mr. Bartley about this debate has been uncomfortable at best. Most of it’s been hurtful and humiliating. Still…