“Smell it?” Caleb repeated uncertainly.

“Millions of bodies incinerated in ovens,” his father said. “The stink of death must’ve been everywhere.”

Caleb’s stomach churned. He swallowed back bile.

“Not every German was a Nazi, but nearly every German soldier had to know what the Nazis were doing,” Mr. Arnett said. “So the idea that your game is somehow okay because the players are pretending to be the Wehrmacht is nothing short of ridiculous.”

Mr. Arnett refilled his coffee cup. “Caleb, the people who perpetuate Nazi symbols today, and those who draw swastikas on walls and wave Confederate flags, are haters and racists. It almost doesn’t matter if it’s the Jewish people they hate, or black people or Muslims or Hispanics. What matters is that they are promoting hate against other human beings. What matters is that they are promoting lies and falsehoods. And in doing so, they are harming humanity as a whole.”

The cereal had turned the almond milk in Caleb’s bowl the grayish color of concrete. It didn’t matter. He’d lost his appetite.

“Every person in this country has the same choice the German people had in World War Two,” his father continued. “They can stand by and watch, feeling frightened and believing there’s nothing they can do. Or they can do something.”

The kitchen was still. Mr. Arnett’s words echoed in Caleb’s ears. He knew that his father had spent a lot of time preparing that speech. He’d probably even done research. And for his father to do that meant that it was a lot more serious than Caleb had allowed himself to admit.

When Caleb got to his locker that morning, Emma was waiting for him. He assumed that she wanted to discuss the strategy for that day’s match, but he was wrong.

“Have you ever read The Diary of a Young Girl? she asked.

Caleb frowned. “Why would I read a young girl’s diary?”

“It’s about Nazism,” Emma said. “Well, it’s really about this girl whose family had to hide from the Nazis during World War Two. It’s really disturbing.”

Caleb was about to ask what she found so disturbing when Ms. Dean came down the hall. “Caleb, I heard from the photographer,” she said. “He’s going to email the portraits this afternoon. We’ll go over them after school.”

“I can’t,” Caleb said. “I’ve got the eSports club.”

Ms. Dean frowned. “This is a lot more important than playing video games. And it can’t wait. Especially if we have to schedule retakes.”

“Can you get someone else to do it, and I’ll join you as soon as the eSports club is over?” Caleb asked.

The bell rang. Emma headed for class, leaving Caleb with Ms. Dean, who was now glowering at him.

“I think you’re showing terrible judgment, Caleb,” the yearbook advisor said, then turned and marched away. Caleb’s ears burned. No one had ever accused him of showing bad judgment before. Suddenly everything was becoming overwhelming. Zach, Nazis, his parents, eSports, KFKN, the yearbook…The pressure was coming from way too many directions.