The room is buzzing as I walk up to the podium, but you could hear a pin drop by the time I stand behind it. I look out at the audience. Many of them wear neutral expressions, a few are friendly, but some look downright angry. Mrs. Kimble is scowling.
I tap the mike and lean in. “Thank you,” I begin, but my voice cracks and the microphone squeals, eliciting a few muffled groans from the audience. I step back, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat from the lights in the room.
I take a deep breath, then close my eyes for a second to try to regroup. The door squeaks and when I open my eyes, Iris and Anthony are standing at the back of the room next to my mother. Their presence provides the reinforcement I need to find my voice.
“Good evening. My name is Freedom Spalding, and my mother and I own
