My eyes dart to the time stamped in the corner of the clock in/out machine as I type in my employee number and clock out for the day. Sidney lightly hip-checks me once I'm finished and types in her own information. "You ready to go?" She asks.

I snag my purse from underneath the front counter and shove my notepad and tip money into it. I zip it up with a sigh. "Yeah. Thank you again for doing this for me, Sid."

She waves me off with a flick of her hand, her engagement ring twinkling in the light. "It's no problem, I told you that. It's on my way home."

I untie my apron and bunch it up in my hands, wringing it in frustration. "I know. I just hate having to ask for rides all the time," I grimace.

"Aria, it's fine, really," She throws over her shoulder, the bell atop the door jingling as we exit RJ's together. "Have you thought about taking Austin up on his offer of teaching you how to drive?"

I purse my lips. "I know how to drive."

Sidney comes to a halt in front of Lincoln's truck. "I mean legally."

My laugh trickles into the air as I hoist myself into the vehicle. "Besides the obvious, I don't even have a car to drive if I were to actually get my license."

Sidney reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Everything will work out. You're about to enter a new season of life, babe. And in this chapter, anything is possible if you want it."

I blink back tears and lean over, gathering her in my arms for a quick hug.

Sidney laughs as we part. "I'm still getting used to emotional Aria. I like it, though."

I let out a small laugh, a grin curving on my lips as she starts the truck and begins to pull from the lot. "Me too."

——

I give Sidney a wave and pretend to catch the kiss she blows my way, laughing as I turn and make my way towards the building in front of me.

Southwest Tennessee Community College sits proudly, sunshine gleaming against the shiny glass windows. Students leisurely walk down sidewalks with backpacks slung across their shoulders, and some even sit cross-legged on patches of grass, studying in the sun.

I think back to high school for a second, remembering how I would walk down the halls with my resting bitch face in full force, which acted as an invisible shield that kept the rest of my peers at bay. There's a drast difference in environment here compared to the dingy, worn-down halls of my old high school. Before I walk into the building, I relax my posture, unclench my jaw, and paste a serene smile on my face.

The old Aria, the hurt Aria walked around like she hated the world, but the new, healed Aria doesn't.

I stop by the front desk and let the secretary know that I'm here to pick up Savannah after she completes her SAT testing. Even though my baby sister has already tested twice and even been admitted to college, she still wanted to take it again just to improve her score. Like I've said before, I have no clue where she gets that gene from.

The secretary advises me to sit in a little waiting area off to the side. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs, I slowly walk towards one of the bookshelves standing tall in the far corner of the room. I lightly run my fingers across the spines of a few books sitting on the shelf. Some are random biographies, but many of them are labelled as introductions to different career-paths.

A student exiting the one of the rooms to my left catches my attention, and I find myself glancing from the door with the piece of paper taped to it displaying "Shh! Testing in progress!" to the poster on the wall beside it.

In big, bold font it reads "Undecided? Choose Social Work!"

My mind reels back to the moment I stepped inside Angela Farrish's office, our most-recent and last ever social worker to take on our case. Unlike the feelings of intimidation that I felt as a young child upon seeing someone in authority holding my future in her hands, I somehow felt at ease with the way Angela reassured me during our meeting. I remember venting to her about the fear I had of losing Savannah to the system, even if only for a day or two until her eighteenth birthday, and her calm response, "I understand," and the meeting of her eyes with a look of ferocity to match my own.

The feeling of weathering through hell and back with your siblings can either pull you closer together or push you apart. I don't personally know of many sibling duos like Savannah and myself who would protect and fight for each other the way we have. Not just because we love each other, but often times, we were the only ones who did.

Growing up in poverty, dysfunction, and addiction forced us to have each other's backs and the bond we have is the only constant I've ever known, which is why I was so adamant that I didn't want to lose my sister. I didn't want to spend two days or even two seconds without her residing under my roof and under my care, and anyone who has had to fight for their lives amongst mayhem and the odds stacked against them can easily see or understand why.

Something tells me that Angela Farrish is one of those people.

First impressions are crucial, and the one I had of social workers and CPS as a child tainted my view of them. It made me reluctant to trust them because I felt scrutinized, having a stranger invade my business even though deep down they definitely had a right to given the way we were raised. But Angela Farrish changed that impression.

I wanted to be like her, I realized. Someone who overcame her past, defeated the odds, and worked to help those who had gone through the same. I just had to be willing to take a chance on myself and go after what I want.

I step away from the bookshelf and instead walk towards the small accent table off to the side. I snatch up a welcome brochure before I can talk myself out of it, and I've just finished putting it in my purse when the door to the testing room flings open and my baby sister rushes out.

When she sees me standing in the corner, a smile lights up her features.

"I aced that shit!" She exclaims.

My eyes widen and a laugh rips from my throat. Ignoring the look of astonishment that the receptionist and other parents idling in the room throw our way, I gather my sister under my arm and walk her towards the exit.

"Hell yeah you did," I agree.

I listen with an amused grin on my lips as she rambles on about scientific formulas and reading prompts that she "made her bitch", and I stumble a bit in my step when I see Austin's Jeep parked on the curb.

He smiles when he sees us and asks, "Well? How was it?"

"She aced that shit," I reply, and giggle when they exchange enthusiastic high fives.

Austin tosses Savannah his car keys, and we both watch as she whoops and rounds the vehicle.

I step towards Austin and poke his toned, t-shirt covered stomach. "And what are you doing here?"

He grabs my finger and unfolds my hand, bringing my palm up to his mouth for a kiss. "Givin' my girls a ride. That okay with you?"

A slight breeze rustles my hair, and somewhere in the distance I hear a bird chirp and a group of college students laugh. I smile. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Austin kisses my cheek and opens the back door for me, and when I take my purse off my shoulder and slide onto the seat, I'm relieved to find that rather than it feeling heavy with the weight of an impulse decision residing inside of it, it feels lighter than ever.

Once we're all buckled up and Savannah pulls away from the curb, Austin's gaze meets mine in his rearview mirror. "You wanna give it a spin around the neighborhood when we get home?"

I pretend to mull it over. "You know what? I think I just might."

"Hope you have insurance," Savannah mumbles right before she hastily brakes at a stop sign.

"Be still my heart," Austin mutters.

——

Hours later, after the three of us have stuffed our faces, Savannah announces that she's going to bed and Austin murmurs that he's going to take a shower. I stretch out on the couch after he rises and disappears around the corner, and my gaze catches on my purse lounging in the recliner.

I fetch the brochure I hid inside and lay back down, opening it up above my face. I read through the program requirements for a major in social work, and ignore the fact that my heart races faster when I see that the community college offers placement testing for individuals who don't have a high school diploma or GED. I bite the inside of my cheek when I flip through and see that the deadline to apply and register for classes is almost up.

"Three weeks," I murmur to myself.

I mentally plan out my schedule. One week to schedule placement testing, one to apply for admission, and then a few days to schedule classes...

Am I really going to do this?

"This is crazy," I whisper again.

But as I sit up and program the number to the Admissions office in my phone, I find myself realizing that I don't mind.