Jesse drops his gaze, but not his smirk. Spencer shrugs his shoulders and looks at Mason, the RHS varsity hockey team captain and my biggest rival for valedictorian. Jesse and Spencer are his guys, his teammates, and for one second I hold out hope that maybe Mason will be the leader he’s supposed to be, to say something, do something—even a look of disapproval. But he’s not looking at them. He’s not looking at anyone. He’s picking at a thread on his jersey.

Another teammate, Reginald Ashford, however, shoots daggers from across the room at Spencer and Jesse. The muscle in his jaw tics. He’s pissed. Good. There’s always been a bit of a rivalry between Mason and Reg, and now I can’t help but think Reg should have been team captain instead of the coach’s son.

And then there’s Spencer. He shrugs his shoulders when he sees me glaring at him. Disgusted, I turn back in my seat. It hardly matters that Mr. Bartley reprimanded them. This assignment is a green light for these guys to act like Nazis. I don’t know if I’m more disappointed with Mr. Bartley or with Spencer and Jesse. Definitely Mr. Bartley. I don’t get why he thinks it’s a good idea to promote fascism by having us do an immoral debate.

Mr. Bartley says, “Let me be clear. I am not asking you to be sympathetic to the Nazis. Quite the opposite. This is a serious examination of a historical event. Let’s learn from this moment and remember to be respectful.” He looks pointedly at Jesse and Spencer.

“By examining these perspectives, this assignment gives you the opportunity to discuss and present a topic that will force you out of your comfort zone. Why is this important? It’s important because there will be plenty of times in your life when you’ll be in a situation where people will express ideas existentially and philosophically opposed to your own. It happens every day on the internet. You’ll face it on your college campuses.” Mr. Bartley looks at me. “The point is to understand all sides and be prepared to debate. I promise, after you complete this work, you’ll have a better grasp on how to create and present compelling arguments.”

“But, Mr. Bartley—”

He goes all traffic cop on me and I close my mouth. “Let me finish, Logan.”

Kerrianne snickers. I so want to raise my middle finger and tell her to go perch on a building with her fellow gargoyles. Mason asked me to prom last year. Not my fault she was second choice after I said no. Ever since, Kerrianne has been nasty to me. You’d think after eleven months as Kerrison, she’d be over it.

I focus on Mr. Bartley.