Lindahl,” Paul said.

I picked up the receipt and held it by its corners.

The top line said Washington Elementary Food Service Clearing Account, followed by twenty-three separate student ID numbers.

Next to every one of those numbers, the computer had printed a zero.

“What time do I start Monday?” I asked.

“Seven a.m.,” Paul said.

“The first delivery truck pulls in at seven fifteen.”

I folded the official receipt carefully and tucked it into my coat pocket beside my wallet.