Twenty-four faces turned around to look at the row of interns.

Kayla let go of my hand and gave me a tiny push.

I stood up. My legs were shaking so hard I thought I'd fall over.

“I'm Abby Turner,” I said. My voice came out very small.

Henry Lambert looked at me over his reading glasses. Then he smiled. A big, warm, wrinkled smile.

“Miss Turner,” he said. “How many customers went into the Carver Falls Lakeshore before nine a.m. on June 14th?”

“A hundred and twelve, sir.”

“And how many came out with only bread and milk?”

“Forty. Because there was nothing else on the shelves.”

“And who counted them with you?”

“My grandmother, sir. Dot Turner. She's been running the Corner Cup since 1979.”

“Well,” said Henry, “please tell her the chairman of Lakeshore Grocers says thank you.”

He pointed at the front of the room.

“Mr. Banks, you may sit down. Miss Turner, I'd like you to come up here and finish presenting your report. I have a lot more questions, and I'd like them answered by the person who actually knows.”

As I walked past Trevor to the front of the room, he stared at the floor.

I stopped beside him for one second.

“Indiana says hello,” I said quietly.

Then I picked up the clicker.