I imagine Marcel’s grin and say, “No.”

“I don’t think so either. But we can learn, even from our mistakes. How could you have handled the situation better? How could you have made some better choices?”

“We don’t make choices, we make impulses.”

“Your impulses.” She paused. “Your actions put you and those around you at risk.”

“When we got nothing but bad choices and poor options in front of us we just do the best we can in the moment.”

“We need you to do better.”

“We need you to make a better world, then.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald sighs. She rubs her face like she is tired. “You know, in your own way, you followed STEP, too. You said the problem and thought of a solution, and—I’m just speculating—all the subsequent shenanigans were your attempt at picking the best solution. You’re more resourceful than I think you’re given credit for. But, still, you didn’t explore the consequences. So again I ask, what am I to do with you?”

“You’ve got to punish me.” I hate the high pitch that crept into my voice.

“What for?” Her eyebrows arch in surprise.

“I . . . deserve it.” I slump in my chair. I let down Nehemiah. I bullied Jaron. I’d gotten my people hurt or in trouble. My face flushes hot. I wipe at my eyes.

Mrs. Fitzgerald softens, as if she’d waited on this moment from me. “Here’s what I think: you found out what was going on, but by not coming forward, you violated the spirit of the school’s honor code. We value character in our leaders.”

“I’m no leader,” I whisper.

“Mr. Mitchell, a leader takes responsibility for the people they lead. A leader sees a problem and acts to fix it. You’ve highlighted some issues. We do need to do something different with you. I told you from the beginning that I was reassessing how the Special Ed room operates. It’s a relic of the previous administration whose time I think has passed. What do you think?”

“What’s going to happen to Nehemiah, Twon, and Rodrigo?”

“There you go again: worrying about your people first. I’m afraid despite your best intentions, you’re shaping into a leader. What do you think we ought to do with you all?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. If you were in charge, what would you do?”

“I’d transfer us back to regular classes.” I thought about it for a little longer. “Maybe have Mr. Blackmon, I don’t know, help supervise us in class.”

“He does seem to understand your class well.”

“He a’ight, I guess.” I couldn’t just leave him out. In a perfect world, he’s not a complete pain to have around.

“As it so happens, I’m thinking through exactly that sort of reorganization. Starting the next quarter, you’ll all be transferred back to regular classes. I picture the Special Ed room being more of a resource room. A place where students can go when they need extra support.”

“Extra support?”

“More time to take tests. A pullout space for teachers to provide specialized help. A place where students can calm down when they get amped up.”