Fireflies and Magnolias by Ava Miles Page A

boosted. Still, she somehow forced herself to follow the cracked cement path to and through the door, then check in at a busy reception desk jammed with tense and edgy people, mostly women and kids. The harried receptionist pointed her toward the right desk.
    The lawyers stared at her like she was some foreign creature. Some were on the phone. Others were talking to women, some of whom were crying or staring into their laps. Older kids were running in between the desks like it was an obstacle course, while a couple babies drooled on their mama’s shoulders, plain tuckered out.
    Felicia Towers, the head attorney of the clinic, took one look at her and dismissed her outright. The woman was in her fifties and had short, dark hair and a petite frame, but she carried herself like a warrior of justice. Amelia Ann squared her shoulders and held eye contact with the woman as she walked over to her messy, overcrowded desk and took a seat in the faded upholstered chair in front of it.
    “You’re the Vandy student I talked to who wants to volunteer?” Felicia asked, her sharp gaze running over Amelia Ann’s navy designer suit and tan Coach purse. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think you’re a good fit for us.”
    So they were going to dispense with the pleasantries. “You’re wrong,” she fired back. “I wanted to make a good impression today, so I wore what I would normally wear to an interview. I wasn’t aware of the dress code, but I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”
    “Dressing down in this neighborhood won’t help you much,” the woman continued, tapping her unpainted nails on her desk. “I need someone who has some street sense, and no offense, but that’s not you.”
    Amelia Ann had been told she looked and smelled like she was from money all her life, and she was. That she couldn’t change. But she wouldn’t let anyone underestimate her because of her appearance.
    “Anyone can come in here wearing cheaper clothes and less makeup. You won’t find a student volunteer more committed than I am or one who knows the law better. You’re the best attorney for domestic violence in the city, and I want to work with you. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m just some pretty-face law student. I’m not.”
    “This isn’t Kelly, Prentice & Stacks,” Felicia said, her expression still giving nothing away.
    Asking her old boss for a reference had been a risk, but she hoped he’d keep his word about not telling her family.
    Amelia Ann let her lips curve into a small smile and went for sarcasm, something her gut told her would impress the woman. “You mean I plugged the right address into my GPS all by myself?”
    The woman’s mouth twitched. “Your posture is finishing-school straight.”
    “I can hunch over like an old woman if you think it’ll make me more effective with your clients. I’ll do anything to volunteer here.”
    “Even clean the toilets?” the woman asked, crossing her arms over a basic black suit jacket and white dress shirt. “We all take turns.”
    She’d never cleaned a toilet in her life, and from the look of the clinic, it would be a disgusting job. “I’d revel in it. I’ll even take out the trash.”
    “Hmmm…everyone here works where they’re needed, but we try and tailor a legal volunteer’s work to their interests. We don’t only do domestic violence.”
    “I know that. I’m happy to help wherever I’m needed.”
    “At the Community Legal Clinic, we like to throw people in the deep end to determine if they can learn to swim. I’d like to watch you interview one of our clients today. There’s a woman here who was beaten by her husband last week. She’s asking for information on filing a protection order.”
    “I saw her when I came in.” She knew exactly who Felicia was talking about. The bruises on the woman’s face had made her insides seize up. “I’d be happy to talk to her. Do you have a list of questions you use for a