There were twelve interns on the strategy team that summer. Ten of them went to schools like Princeton, Yale and Northwestern. They wore nice shoes. They knew words like synergy and they said them without laughing.

There was me. And a girl named Kayla from Ohio State, who became my only friend.

I was assigned to Trevor Banks. Senior Analyst. Thirty-one. Very sharp suits, very white teeth.

On my first day, he looked at my résumé and laughed.

“Indiana State? Community college?” He shook his head. “Well. Everybody's got to start somewhere. I'm going to call you Indiana.”

He did. Every day. Indiana, get me a coffee. Indiana, fix the printer. Indiana, these spreadsheets need cleaning.

The Princeton interns got real projects. Market research. Meetings with directors. Lunches with the CEO.

I got the photocopier desk and Trevor's coffee order. Large oat latte, two sugars, extra hot. I didn't complain. Grandma Dot always says you start at the bottom and work your way up, and you never, ever look down on the bottom while you're doing it.

So I cleaned Trevor's spreadsheets.

And that's how I found the list.