Two hours after school started, Mr. Bartley answered my email: “Sorry for the delay. Didn’t get your note until now. Let’s talk after class.” I would have forwarded the message to Cade, but since he doesn’t have a smartphone, he wouldn’t have seen it until he got home and logged in to the computer. So before History of World Governments, I met him outside the boys’ locker room. When I told him what Mr. Bartley said, he nodded. His expression was pensive, and he stayed quiet the entire time we walked to class.

Sitting at my desk, I glance over at him. He’s hunched forward, legs stretched out, sketching in his notebook.

I blew it. I blew it, I blew it, I blew it. Why didn’t I just say we’d go to the dance? Since Mr. Bartley isn’t here yet, I pull out my phone and, for the hundredth time, I text Blair.

ME: He’s barely said six words. What if I ruined everything?

BLAIR: You didn’t. And six words from Cade is his normal. Stop obsessing.

ME: I’m not. You didn’t see his face. He looked like I kicked his dog.

BLAIR: He has a dog?

ME: NO!

BLAIR: You’ll fix it. Good luck talking to Mr. Barfly! Gtg my teacher’s glaring

ME: Bartley!

I slip my phone into my backpack pocket and look at the clock. Mr. Bartley’s now five minutes late. Most of the class has earbuds in, listening to music or watching YouTube videos on their phones. Heather is reading. Mason is talking to Kerrianne. Daniel has his head down and might be sleeping, and Cade is still sketching. I tear a corner of my notebook, roll the paper between my fingers, and shoot the ball at his paper. It bounces off his ear and onto the floor. He turns his head, his eyes full with questions. I plaster on a contrite smile, form a heart with my hands, flash it his way, and stick out my tongue, curling it into a U.

He shakes his head, and just when I think all is lost, his lips twitch.

Under his desk, he does something completely unexpected. He raises his pinkie, pointer finger, and thumb and bends his other two fingers down into his palm. Sign language for “I love you.”

Wow.

Then he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

I laugh.

He smiles, and my world is back on its axis. This is us: best friends.

Mr. Bartley walks in, hits the lights. The windows let in the late-afternoon winter sun. “Sorry, people. Let’s get started.” He picks up his clicker, fast-forwards through the beginning of Conspiracy, and pauses on an image of Nazis arriving at a mansion.

Mr. Bartley says, “To prepare for your assignment, we’re going to watch this reenactment of the Wannsee Conference, which was held at a villa in the Berlin suburb of Wannsee. Reinhard Heydrich, one of Hitler’s most powerful and highest-ranking officers, arranged the top-secret conference.

“As you’ll see, the discussion becomes intense. Take notes—pros and cons—on how the Nazis propose to deal with the Jewish problem. Remember, this is 1942 and you need to think not from your modern perspective, but from theirs.”

I open my mouth to object, but the words don’t come. Should I stand up and reveal my theory?

Mr. Bartley continues. “A little background. By 1942, Jews had already suffered under the Nuremberg Laws, which were enacted on September 15, 1935. The laws forbade Jews from marrying or having sexual relations with Germans. Previous intermarriages were declared invalid. The laws took away German citizenship from Jews. They were banned from teaching or attending German universities and schools, from practicing medicine and law, from government positions. No Germans could conduct business with Jews, forcing many Jewish businesses to close or to sell at prices way below value. At first only Jews were targeted, but eventually the laws included others—Roma, criminals, people with physical or cognitive disabilities, and anyone else the Nazis saw as undesirables. Who can tell me why the Nazis did this?”

Prepared to answer and to also share my theory, I raise my hand. Mr. Bartley calls on Reg.

“Non-Aryans were considered inferior. The Nuremberg Laws promoted racial purity and were meant to protect German citizens.”

“Correct. And because of those laws, some German Jews chose to leave, but many who wanted to escape didn’t have the financial means to do so. Even if they fled to another European country, their safety wasn’t guaranteed. By 1942, Nazi-occupied Europe had already rounded up Jews, forcing them into ghettos and concentrations camps. Genocide was already underway, but at this point, it had barely addressed a Final Solution of the Jewish question. The Wannsee Conference brought various branches of the Nazi government together in order to expedite the destruction of the Jewish people.

“Our debate will reenact this historical event, but you may also incorporate other authentic perspectives appropriate to the position you were assigned. Research the Nuremberg Laws. Though the Nazis’ actions were abhorrent—and I use this word purposefully—it’s important for you to examine their arguments.”

I had been so certain the assignment was a moral test, but after Mr. Bartley’s speech and with Conspiracy ready to be viewed on the screen, my courage to speak up fades. I rack my brain, trying to find some logic in Mr. Bartley’s reasoning. Something I learned in my sociology seminar triggers a thought.

Maybe this assignment is symbolic of how easy it is to persuade us to follow orders?

It’s another theory based on the famous 1961 Yale University Milgram experiment on obedience to authority figures. Milgram’s students willingly inflicted increasing levels of pain on others because their instructor ordered them to. They lost their moral compass. Mr. Bartley isn’t asking us to inflict physical pain, but he is asking us to do something reprehensible—justify systemic hate, racism, and murder. Is he trying to be Milgram?

I look around and decide to keep quiet for now.

“Pay attention to the actors’ body language as well as their words. Get into their mindset.”

Cade’s hand shoots up.

“Mr. Crawford, can your question wait?” Mr. Bartley asks. “I want to get through this today.”

“Is the assignment a test?” Cade blurts out. “I’m wondering if what you’re asking of us—with this debate—if it’s a moral test?”

Mr. Bartley’s startled expression says it all. “I appreciate your question and am happy to discuss this further after class.”

I mouth thank you to Cade. He shrugs.

Mr. Bartley hits play.

Over and over again the actors give the Nazi salute and call out, “Heil Hitler.” Is Mr. Bartley expecting us to do that for the debate?

Sitting around an oval table, fifteen Nazis introduce themselves. The actor playing Reinhard Heydrich says, “We have a storage problem in Germany for these Jews.” He continues on, explaining that the Nazis “have created a Jew-free society and a Jew-free economy.” He adds, “We have indeed eliminated the Jew from our national life. Now, more than that, the Jew himself must be physically eradicated from our living space.”

My gaze flickers to Cade. He sits with his arms folded over his chest, watching the screen.

As the movie continues, Heydrich explains that the Nazis’ aggressive emigration policy for the Jews failed. “Who would take more of them. Who would want them was the policy’s ultimate limitation,” he says. “Every border in Europe rejects them or charges outrageously to accept them.”

I am shocked to learn countries expected compensation, but I’m not surprised when the Nazis comment that even America turned them away. A while ago, I listened to a podcast about the MS St. Louis, a ship filled with about nine hundred Jews fleeing Nazi Germany in 1939 right after Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass. In an organized vicious attack throughout Germany, Nazis descended on seven thousand Jewish businesses, shattering storefront windows, destroying equipment and merchandise, torching over a thousand synagogues to ash. The German Jews on the MS St. Louis sought sanctuary in Cuba. For most, it was a temporary solution until their US visa applications were approved. When the ship arrived in Havana, however, the Cuban government refused entry to 97 percent of the passengers, even though the refugees had proper documents issued by a Cuban official. The captain had no choice but to sail toward Miami, hoping the United States would welcome the remaining refugees. But the US Coast Guard stopped the ship at sea. Some sent pleas to President Roosevelt, but the president never responded and the US government held fast to the strict immigration laws. With no safe haven, the ship was forced to turn back. Several Western European countries took in the refugees, but for nearly a third of the Jewish passengers, it was a death sentence.

How many more times has the United States turned away innocent people, forcing them to return to certain death?

Bile rises in my throat.

I return my attention to the movie. The Nazis debate the absorption of two and a half million Jews in Poland, discussing them as if they were rabid rats that needed to be exterminated from the planet.

How do you do that? With bullets. With poison. Carbon monoxide. Zyklon B.

I think about Cade’s grandparents. They came from Poland. His grandpa saved a Jewish boy, and though I don’t know the story, as I look at Cade, I see that this part of the movie has him riveted to the screen.