“Which means either your mom lied to you, or you’re lying to us,” Wyler said.

For two full seconds the gym went silent.

Someone in the fifth row let out a sharp laugh.

Three boys near the center aisle got up on the bleacher boards and started clapping together.

“SEAL boy,” one of them shouted.

“SEAL boy,” five more voices chimed in from the top rows.

Valerie Thorne took two quick steps forward, and her silver ballpoint pen slipped from her fingers and fell onto the wooden floor.

She held out her hand toward the Navy booth, but Wyler never looked her way.