The driving academy parking lot was smaller than Claire had expected — just a modest asphalt area behind a low building with faded signage reading “Chivita Driving Academy.” She sat in the passenger seat of her mom’s car, nerves twisting in her stomach like a knot of live wires. Her hands were clammy on her thighs, and she kept adjusting the seatbelt even though it was already fastened perfectly.
“You’ve got this, honey,” her mom said from the driver’s seat, squeezing her knee. “You’ve been practicing in the driveway for weeks. And Xander’s coming, right?”
Claire nodded, a small smile breaking through. “He insisted on being here for moral support.”
Her mom’s eyes twinkled. “That boy is good for you. Just remember — brake first, gas second, and don’t hit any mailboxes.”
Claire laughed,
