“So, for this assignment only, I want you to walk in the footsteps of Nazis to gain insight into the Final Solution and their justifications for genocide. I look forward to reading your personal perspectives for your side of the debate and your point of view on the Holocaust in your papers.”
When Dad and I lived in Milwaukee, we had Jewish neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Simon treated me like another grandchild—babysitting whenever Dad’s sister, Aunt Ava, couldn’t, reading books to me, and bringing me birthday presents. Every time I saw Mr. Simon in our apartment building, he’d greet me with “Howdo, howdo? How’s the sweetest girl on our floor today?”
They had a granddaughter my age, and whenever Gayle came to visit, the Simons always invited me over. During Hanukkah, Gayle taught my cousin Blair and me how to play a game with a four-sided spinning top called a dreidel. I cried when the Simons moved to California to be closer to Gayle. To this day, I miss them. I can’t imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt the Simons for any reason, let alone because they’re Jewish.
To my knowledge, no one in our school is Jewish, and I don’t think there are any Jews in our town. But what if there were?
The sound of drumming fingers draws me out of my head. Mason’s looking at me. He stops tapping his notebook. His other hand rests on his thigh, clenched in a fist. For a split second I wonder if he, too, is appalled by this assignment. But no. His gaze shifts to the clock, then settles on Kerrianne. Of course. He’s probably counting the seconds until he can get his hands on her.
She is doodling in her notebook. Ugh. Hearts and stars when Mr. Bartley’s talking genocide.
Cade catches my attention, flashes his notebook. “U ok?”
I feel ill. But Cade’s concern helps make it bearable. I answer him with a nod.
Mason notices Logan fidgeting in her seat and scowling, especially after his hockey teammates, Jesse and Spencer, stand and give the Nazi salute. Their actions are a violation of their team’s code of conduct—all members must refrain from disparaging or disrespecting others—and it bothers Mason. To his relief, Mr. Bartley calls them out on it, puts them in their place.
Hell, as captain, he’s tried.
Recalling what transpired after last Friday night’s hockey game, Mason fists his hand against his thigh. They’d won by a single goal, and Mason’s dad, Coach Hayes, had come down hard on all of them, pointing out mistakes that could have cost them the game. “I expect every one of you to think about what you did wrong. We got the win, but it wasn’t enough. You can and will destroy the next team at regionals.”
After Mason’s dad left the locker room, Jesse, Spencer, and a few other teammates spouted racial slurs about a Black player on their opposing team—a player with more skills, more moves than Jesse and Spencer combined. Mason stepped in and told them that they were way out of line and were better than that. When they didn’t stop, he told them to shut the hell up, that they were jealous of the dude, and to worry about their own play.
Jesse lifted his hand, sarcastically saluted Mason, and said, “Aye, aye, captain,” getting laughs from some of the guys. Spencer repeated it, then knocked his shoulder into Mason’s. Things escalated from there. They trashed Mason, taunted him, told him he was gay like Daniel Riggs.
Thinking about it now, Mason still gets pissed off. He doesn’t care about what his teammates say about him—he can deal with it. But when they make racist comments or talk smack about Daniel for being gay, it irritates him. It’s cruel. Why do they have to be that way?
Mason glances at Daniel. He’s hunched over, looking at his phone under his desk. Whatever is on the screen has his full attention. Daniel keeps to himself, never bothers anyone.
Although they’ve gone to the same school since kindergarten, Mason has never been friends with him, mainly because Daniel has never been interested in hockey. Mason got his first pair of skates at two and started youth hockey at four. So did Spencer, Jesse, and Reg, and they’ve been friends ever since. For Mason, being on the ice is as necessary as breathing air. When his team voted him captain, Mason had earned it.
Still, Jesse, Spencer, and some of the other guys thrive on giving Mason hell. Last Friday night, they went too far. Mason lost it and threw Jesse into a locker. The fight ended when their teammates pulled them apart.
Clenching his teeth, Mason replays his dad’s reaction. Coach Hayes called him into his office, ordered him to close the door. He pointed to the cold metal chair. The second Mason sat, his dad lit into him. “You’re going to apologize to the team. I won’t tolerate that behavior from anyone. Not the team captain, and certainly not my son.”
Mason knew better than to talk back to his father, but he couldn’t help it. “Then why am I the only one here, Dad? They’re racists, and if someone recorded it—”
Coach Hayes cut Mason off. “You lead by example, and your behavior crossed a line.”
“Nearly every day they cross that line. They violate the athletic code we all had to sign, and you do nothing,” Mason seethed. “One word from you and they’d stop. I put them in their place and I’d do it again. I won’t apologize.”
“Then you’re benched.”
“Great.” Mason stood.
“Sit down!” his father roared.
Before turning around, Mason wiped the grim smile from his face. He knew Coach Hayes wouldn’t bench him. No way would he jeopardize winning regionals and their chance at the state championship.
His father clasped his hands. “Mason, they were letting off steam. Some of this stuff you have to let go or it distracts the team from doing what they need to do. Keep the boys focused on the game. That’s it. Besides, this never would have happened if you had played better, if you hadn’t missed that goal…” He went on and on, picking Mason apart until Mason wanted to shrink into his chair just like his mother did at home when the criticism was aimed at her. Mason stood and walked away under a barrage of threats and curses. He knew all too well how his father let off steam.
Punching Jesse had felt good, too good, and that realization gripped Mason with fear. I will never become my father, he vowed. I will never become that violent, horrible man.
Later that same night, when he and Kerrianne were in her bedroom, she asked him what was wrong. He told her about Jesse’s and Spencer’s slurs. “They’re just jealous of you,” she said. “They do it because they know it annoys you. You can’t let them get to you. If I let everything get to me, I’d crawl into a hole and die. Come here. Kiss me and forget about them.”
Looking over at Kerrianne now, Mason admits to himself that he doesn’t love her. After Logan turned him down for prom last year, Kerrianne was an easy, uncomplicated yes. They were friends, and even though she’d hooked up with a few of his hockey buddies the first semester their freshman year, she hadn’t been with anyone else. She stopped drinking, she stopped hooking up, but she didn’t stop hanging out with the team. And because Mason didn’t drink, either, they bonded over their alcohol-free red Solo cups, their love for hockey, and country music. Since prom, they’ve been a couple.