I could feel her trembling without even looking at her.
She had spent the whole morning trying to be brave for me. She had brushed my hair twice, tied the blue ribbon at the end of my braid, and told me I looked beautiful even though her own eyes were rimmed red from another sleepless night. She had tucked a granola bar into my coat pocket because she knew I forgot breakfast when I was nervous.
But now, sitting beside me in front of all those people, she looked smaller than I had ever seen her.
Not weak.
Just tired.
Tired of being dismissed. Tired of being talked over. Tired of powerful people deciding that her honesty was a problem they could solve by taking away her job.
Judge Warren leaned forward.
He was older than I expected, with silver hair combed neatly back and reading glasses resting low on his nose. When he looked at me, he did not smile. He did not laugh either.
That mattered.
“Ava,” he said carefully, “you understand that you cannot practice law without a license.”
