"You don't have to take it, Liz," Julie said as she looked at her sister. "There's gotta be--"

"We can't spend a year scraping by on substituting," Liz interjected, shaking her head before sighing. "It's not a bad offer, either. I just don't have experience with... troubled students. Or any idea on a class project that will teach them life skills and showcase their potential. Pretend I made air-quotes with that- I think those were the exact words."

"I'm... not sure what that even means," Julie admitted. She looked down at the kitchen table, which was covered half in random papers and half the contents of her purse. She reached to poke at an empty sunglasses case. "And I'm the one who got you into this mess, so..."

"No, and stop saying it. You didn't cut funding for a shrinking district right as my rent got raised two-hundred dollars a month. I'm happy to be home and support you while you..."

"Stay sober this time, figure out how to do a thousand hours of community service, and eventually get my license back?" Julie finished. "While freeloading on you and Dad."

"That's what sisters are for." Liz smiled. "So... I'll take the job and you find me a class project. You were the honor student."

Julie sighed. These days, she didn't even know where her sunglasses were. Twice divorced, an impressive DUI on her record, and unemployed. Yeah, she really felt like the honor student...

"And now I'm an out-of-work mechanic doing oil changes for the neighbors for pocket money."

"It's more than I know how to do." Liz shrugged and reached to look at the color of one of Julie's tubes of lipstick. Too pink, Julie was sure. Liz put it back quickly.

"Then I'll teach 'em. That's community service, right?" Julie laughed. Yeah, that was an idea.

That... was an idea.

"Get 'em a car," she said quickly.

"What?" Liz blinked.

"A car. Clean, but in need of some work," Julie said, her smile widening. "Teach them some basic mechanical skills, how to use a few tools, and--"

"But that's not--"

"It is! They'll have to learn to budget, after all, to work on the car and, I don't know, afford their apartments. Have them make milk-carton apartments or something. Give them budgets and jobs and bills. But the car can be real. Let them understand how to find insurance, and as for parts and whatever, I know people. They may not be able to employ me, but they'll help me..." Julie trailed off, staring at Liz.

"A car, running, would be a fine showpiece of a project," Liz admitted. "Budgeting everything in-between would certainly put them to the test. Though some of them might already know that a little too well. We were shocked at how much food cost. They might be teaching me."

"Us," Julie corrected. "You'll need a mechanic who needs to do some community service, after all."

"If the school's insurance will cover any of this..."

Julie shrugged and nodded in the direction of the phone on the kitchen wall. It wouldn't hurt to ask.

"You can promise me a car?" Liz questioned.

"Oh yeah." Julie reached for her phone. She felt better than she had in weeks. In months. Finally, she might have some purpose other than being the dead weight of the family. "Just give me the good word."

"I probably won't know today. Or tomorrow..." Liz pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "I said I'd call about the position tomorrow. I..."

Julie stared at her.

Liz froze for a moment, then grabbed the scribbled note from an hour before.

Julie grabbed a couple of hair-scrunchies and waved them like pom-poms.

She couldn't wait. This was gonna be something worth staying sober for.