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"Yeah, but then he left and now all I am is... frustrated," I complain.
Fallon lifts her head and I watch as her face lights up. "I think I have the solution to all of your problems, babe."
"You better not say anything inappropriate," I warn her.
"Never," she beams, takes a breath before suggesting, "phone sex."
"Not going to happen," I shake my head. "Kyle said text, not call."
"What's the fucking difference?"
I'm not sure, really. Is there a difference?
—
"Go ahead and park up front," Mr. Stanton instructs at the end of my driving test. His bifocals catch the afternoon light and scatter buttery rays of coral and scarlet all over the dashboard.
I park Mom's car in front of the grey brick building, prepare myself to hear the two words I've been dreading all day long.
You've failed.
Again.
I sit quietly beside the round-bellied, middle-aged man with a squished nose and what looks like a mustard stain on his baby blue and white pin-striped shirt.
He keeps marking things on his clipboard, his face giving nothing away.
"I can't wait any longer," I finally say. "How bad did I fail this time?"
Mr. Stanton chuckles softly, reminds me of Santa Claus when he smiles and reveals, "You passed."
"I what?" I return, disbelief lacing my words.
"Jenny Kearns, you are officially a licensed driver," he says as he hands me the paper. "Congratulations."
My eyes widen in surprise as I grip the paper in my hands.
I passed.
I actually freaking passed!
Mr. Stanton unbuckles his seat belt, opens the car door, and steps out. "Looks like you have some fans waiting for you."
I glance up, see a line of familiar faces anxiously peering in our direction. There's even a sign being held up by three pairs of little arms. Go, Aunt Jenny! But most surprising of all, I see Matt standing there, nestled between Mom and Nora, talking over them to Dad and Danny. All the people I care about are here.
Well, all but one.
I step out of the car, walk around to the front of it, and yell at the top of my lungs, "I PASSED!"
A chorus of yeahs and whoops and hollers erupt as they all rush towards me. Craig, Danny and Nora's youngest, jumps into my arms, his ocean blue eyes lit up. "Does this mean you're not a loser anymore?"
Everyone starts laughing as they hug me, squeeze me, suffocate me with their excitement.
"Dinner at Pete's?" someone suggests and the next thing I know, we're all sitting in the basement pizza parlor while the kids play an intense game of air hockey, and the table is littered with uneaten pizza crust and sauce-stained napkins and empty silver trays.
Mom and Dad sneak away to the bar after proudly joking with everyone who passes by that they have a designated driver now.
Danny and Nora sit across from Matt and me in their own little world. Danny tucks a strand of dark hair behind Nora's ear, stares at her like she hung the stars in the sky, then gently presses his lips to her forehead.
