I spent winter break in the baby's room. The paint I bought on my first date with Sawyer went to good use on the mural. Toni sat on the bed and watched me paint as she chatted about this or that. Sometimes it was about the maternity yoga class she was attending and how all the older women gave her judgy side eyes. We giggled together at the fact that Toni showed them up when it came to flexibility and general endurance. Other times she told me about something she'd done with Adam, but she usually stopped when she noticed me start to get sad.

"It's okay," I told her once. "I want to hear."

As she talked, I traced lines on the wall with my brush, creating the vision in my head layer by layer. I wanted mountains, trees, fog, a bright sun and soft colors that gave a dreamy quality to the composition. On more than one occasion we caught mama standing by the door, watching me work as Toni talked. But she never joined in.

"What do you think it means?" Toni asked me one afternoon as she drove me over to visit Sawyer at the hospital.

"I don't know, but she's freaking me out a bit," I admitted.

We'd been able to get Sawyer moved to a private room that was now permanently stuffed with flowers and gifts. I pulled up a chair and sat with him while Toni waited for Adam to arrive. They had a checkup with Toni's doctor to see how the baby was doing and finally see the sex. I was excited to find out too, but I really wanted to tell Sawyer everything that had happened since the last visit.

I spoke about anything I could think of, from the mural to the food we ate at Christmas. I told him about the fundraising. It was going so well that he was going to have some good change for after he woke up. Which was great, because he was going to need some help. Even though he was covered in pristine bandages, he'd suffered trauma to his head and the entire right side of his body was hurt so bad that the doctors didn't know yet if he was going to be able to walk and function sufficiently. If he woke up.

When he woke up, I reminded myself. I was sure he would.

About an hour later my sister and her boyfriend bounded into the room exploding in joy.

"It's a girl!" they said in unison.

I jumped to my feet and hugged both of them. I bent down and kissed the baby bump, and I was sure I felt movement inside. It was amazing how I was able to feel such joy in the middle of tragedy.

But life went on. I finished my niece's mural the day before the start of the second semester. When school started again, I walked down the hallways and sat in class but it almost didn't feel like I was there. I checked my phone compulsively, always waiting for good news because I refused the thought of any bad news. The doctors said that the longer it took him to wake up, the worse his odds got. Each time they said that I told myself that it was fine, the doctors had seen so many bad things happen to their patients that they were desensitized, they couldn't care deeply for each patient.

I could. I could pore all my hope and energy into Sawyer. He was going to make it out of this.

Mr. Davies and I had the big chat about my future on St. Valentines day. The date was kind of ironic to me, seeing that what I really wanted for my future was for the boy I liked to wake up.

Mr. Davies leaned back in his chair. "You've grown up a lot this year."

I didn't know if to laugh or cry about that. I settled for a shrug.

"A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do."

He smiled. "And what's a girl planning to do now? She has quite a few options."

By that he meant colleges. I'd applied to more than just Rollins, of course, a couple more on early admissions and three more for regular admissions that were local. I'd got admitted to one of the early ones and waitlisted for the third one.

The one that admitted me was a great school in South Carolina, but I'd only really applied to it because Mr. Davies convinced me to apply to at least one college out of town. Although he'd been very supportive of my initial plans, he'd tried his best to encourage me to step out of my comfort zone. That being staying in Orlando or as close to home as possible, doing what was going to make my parents happy.

"I don't know," I told him. "I want to wait until regular admission results are released."

He nodded. "Makes sense, but if you get admitted to any of them are you more inclined to pick one of those?"

"Probably," I muttered. But in truth, I didn't know.

Mr. Davies was right in the sense that I'd changed a lot since the school year started. I was still mean and judgy and intense, but I was able to recognize that beliefs or behaviors I had ingrained in my mind as the one and only path, were not necessarily so. I didn't care much for whatever people said about me anymore, and I was a lot less interested in making my every decision based on whether it would please papa and mama. The thought of going to South Carolina was growing more and more appealing.

"Also," Mr. Davies said, "I'd like you to consider something else."

I snapped out of my reverie and looked back up at him. "Hmm?"

"Rory, I think you should consider a double major."

"In what?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Business, as we've talked about all along, and-" He made a strategic pause that worked in driving me to the edge of my seat. "Art."

I slumped back with a laugh that he didn't join in. "Oh, you're serious."

"As a paper cut," he said with a smile. "I don't see why you shouldn't pursue your original idea, but I really think you could have a great future in the arts world."

I smiled. "Thank you for your kindness, but no way."

Mr. Davies tilted his head and waited. And waited some more. I sighed, realizing he wanted me to tell him why, so he could tell me why I was wrong.

Fine.

"Look, I draw and paint okay enough, but I don't have any formal education." I pursed my lips as I thought about it further. "I don't have a big portfolio, or participated in competitions, won awards, or made viral posts with my arts. I don't have anything that would make me stand out against other people who have been actively preparing themselves for an arts program. This would be like Rollins all over again."

"I disagree," he said, as expected. "You might not have some of those things, but you definitely have clocked the practice hours."

He opened a drawer in his desk, rummaged around for a second and then pulled up a piece of paper. As he turned it around to face me I saw it was one of the pamphlets I made to promote Sawyer's fundraising campaign.

"No matter how talented a person can be, they can't possibly draw someone's face this well without having put some serious hours behind the craft."

Heat crawled up my face. It was true that I'd put many, many hours drawing Sawyer. Which was totally not what he meant, but it was true anyway. The drawing I'd chosen for the pamphlet was one of the more recent ones. After getting up close and personal with him, I'd been able to really commit the details of his face to the paper. It looked like a black and white picture of him.

"Why don't you put together a portfolio?"

"Isn't it too late?" I asked in return.

"Not really, it's never too late to do what you're good at." At my look he laughed. "Sure, the admissions round is pretty much over. You'll get into a college for the business program but once you're a student, you can change your focus."

"Ahh," I said. I hadn't really thought about that possibility, because I simply had never taken art as a serious option. "I'll think about it."

"Good enough."

When March arrived, we got the news that I'd been admitted to a local college and rejected for the other two. My options now were the local one and the one in South Carolina. I checked out the websites of the two options. Both were great, but one had a much stronger arts program. I spent a solid week thinking about this and weighing the pros and cons of each, but in the end I was leaning heavily toward the local one. I could always keep drawing and painting on the side while pursuing business. I still had to help papa with the shop and now that my niece was coming, I wanted to be close.

Plus, I had to be around for when Sawyer recovered.

I was in my room one night working on the final draft of the yearbook art when there was a knock on my door. Mama came in and watched me as I finished up.

"What's up?" I asked her.

She sat on my bed next to me but allowed me to put the final touches on the doodles. It was only when I set them aside that she spoke.

"I didn't know you liked art so much."

I opened and closed my mouth. Her face betrayed nothing and I didn't know what kind of territory I was treading with this conversation.

I scratched my head as I carefully asked, "Do you remember the county fair arts competition I joined in middle school?"

It took her a minute, but then she snapped her fingers. "Ah, yes. Your piece was the winner."

A small smile appeared on my face.

"I was so proud," I said, watching her nod. "Do you remember the conversation we had after that?"

"Vaguely," she said, her nose wrinkling.

This was the part that was going to get me in trouble, but I sighed and went for it. "You said that it was too bad people couldn't make a living on art."

"Ah."

Silence hung between us where neither of us knew how to address that. Mama picked up my final concept for the yearbook and looked at it closely. I was going to hand it in to the committee tomorrow for final approval before we sent it for printing. Soon the senior class was going to get their copies in print and everybody would see my art, deface it or cherish it or look at it with indifference. It was one of the most nerve-wracking things I'd done, but I was still excited for it. In a way I had to thank Lexie Cooper for her creepy bathroom graffitis inspiring me to turn them around into positive references about the four years we'd all spent together. I'd done a good job, if I could say so myself, and had even sneaked a small tribute to Sawyer.

Mama hovered the tips of her fingers over the doodles delicately, mindful that the ink might not be dry enough. Then she surprised me by saying, "If I'd known you loved it so much, I wouldn't have encouraged you away from it."

"Ay," I said, my eyes suddenly welling.

"Your sister's told me about the two colleges you're considering," she said, setting the concept back down on the bed and meeting my eyes with her dark, determined ones. "I want you to pick whichever one is best for you, not for us. We'll support you either way."

"Mama..."

"Do what is best for you, Aurora. That will also be the best for us." She patted my hand. "After all, only you know really what that should be."

She left me with that and I fell back on my bed, my head reeling. Mama had just released me from all the responsibilities I thought I'd been tied to. Beyond that, she'd offered her support for whatever I chose and I didn't know what to do. I tossed and turned the whole night, thinking about my options. Should I stay or should I go? Should I settle or shoot for the stars?

What would Sawyer tell me to do?

Once I asked myself that question, every doubt in my mind cleared.

I knew exactly what he'd tell me to do.

I got up in the middle of the night and although my heart was beating as hard as if I'd run for miles, instead of just hopped from my bed to my desk, I fired up my laptop and sent an acceptance to one of the colleges. I wired the required fee and made it official.

I knew what I was going to do with my life.

what is she gonna do?!