Clara Marie:

Oh. My. God. That was a new expression I had learned, and it perfectly encompassed how I was feeling at the moment. I had to learn how to drive a car! Me? Driving that enormous, speeding metal beast? I was going to die! I told Mom (I had taken to calling her that—it was much easier) all of this, and she laughed. Laughed! At my impending doom?

She won the argument. I was now seated inside the said enormous, speeding metal beast, clutching the seat so hard my knuckles were white.

"Who is going to be teaching me?" I asked her.

"Emilio," she said.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"One of your friends from before the accident. You'll like him, don't worry. You've known each other since you were little. Plus, he's a great driver. I'm sorry I don't have time to teach you. The bakery is just so busy" she gave me an apologetic smile, and I tried to smile back, which was difficult when facing my imminent death.

"I told him about what happened to you already. Although I forgot to tell him about your sudden fear of cars..." she trailed off.

"And where is it you're taking me?" I asked.

"To the best place in the world for learning to drive. Not even you could crash there," she joked, though she looked a bit concerned. It seemed as though Noelle had not been the most skilled of drivers either.

We talked about other things for a bit–the bakery, a new recipe, a book–then fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the car ride. Carriage rides had always become awkward after Stepmother and Papa got engaged. They typically consisted of stilted conversation or awkward silence. This silence was nice.

I liked looking at all the interesting things out of the window. There were people on odd-looking bikes with motors, huge gray buildings with thousands of windows, and so many people. I could see New Shire City in the distance, though it looked very different. It was made of tall metal buildings that seemed to scrape the sky. You could see the reflection of the sky on the buildings, and sunlight bounced off them, blinding me momentarily. We arrived at a large patch of cement, the snow having been plowed.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"It's an old parking lot. There was a mall here, but they destroyed it and never rebuilt anything."

I had no idea what a mall was, but I learned the term "parking lot" yesterday.

"Ok," I said and unbuckled, hopping out of the car. Mom followed me and headed in the direction of another car. When we were only a few feet away, the car door opened, and out stepped a handsome boy, about my age. I suddenly wished I had done my hair this morning. Maybe a nice braid instead of the tangled bun I quickly knotted. I ignored these thoughts and focused again on the boy. So this was Emilio. He had bronzed skin, dark curly hair, and coffee-colored eyes.

"Noelle!" he exclaimed. "How are you?"

"I'm feeling fine, much better than when I woke up. You know, from the accident. The accident I just had. Where I lost my memory," I winced at the word vomit (another expression I had learned from a TV show. I loved TV).

"You look really excited for your driving lesson," he said with sarcasm (another term I had learned! It was a very useful one).

"Totally!" I responded, forcing a large, beaming smile.

"Ok, let's start!" he said, with an equally forced smile. "I got her from here, Ms. Abara."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Amelié," Mom rolled her eyes. Turning to me, she said, "I have to go now. I'm sure you'll do great! Bye!" S

She gave me a quick hug and went back to her car. I turned to Emilio.

"Do I actually have to drive?" I asked.

"Yup," he said, already getting into the passenger side. I gingerly slid into the driver's seat.

"So...where to start?" he said, biting his lip. "Um, this is the steering wheel. You use it to, uh, steer. This is the brake, and this is the gas. Putting your foot on the brake stops or slows down the car, and gas makes it go. I'll teach you how to switch gears later. Let's just focus on moving for now." He reached toward me, and I leaned away from him.

"Relax," he said, almost laughing. "I'm not gonna hurt you. You just forgot to lock the door," he said, reaching past me to push a button on the inside of the door. I relaxed, embarrassed. I was not used to being alone with boys—it wasn't very proper. He settled back into his seat and buckled his seatbelt.

"Ok," he said. "Let's do this!" He smiled at me and I smiled back, energized.

I was a terrible driver. My foot wasn't steady on the gas, so we lurched forward at times, inched forward at others. I pressed the brakes too hard and learned a new word: whiplash. After about half an hour, we stopped.

"Are we done yet?" I pleaded.

"Wow," Emilio stated. "You really are terrified of driving, huh?"

"No," I lied. I liked to think of myself as a brave, daring person.

"Yes, you are," he insisted. "You're going really slow, like you're scared of the gas, you're turning really slowly, and you're way too quick to brake. Maybe we should just quit for the day," he said, opening the car door, "And come back when you're feeling a bit better"

"No!" I cried. If there was one thing I did not do, it was quit. I always saw things through. And I definitely wasn't scared.

"I can do this! Let me try one more time." Emilio smirked and closed the door. I realized he had gotten exactly what he wanted. I fell for his little trick. Well, I was still going to prove myself.

Taking a deep breath, I put my hands on the steering wheel. I was going to do this. I put my foot down on the gas, hard. The car leaped forward. Emilio seized the OS handle, screeching,

"WHOO HOO! PEDAL TO THE METAL!"

I screamed too, though not out of joy. I was about to drive off the parking lot into the grass. I yanked the wheel to the left, and the car screeched, narrowly missing a curb. I continued driving like some sort of madwoman, swerving and speeding, 'pedal to the metal" as Emilio had described it. We were both whooping and screaming, no longer scared. I got this. When I finally slowed down, we both sat in shocked silence for a moment. We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"You're crazy!" Emilio yelled.

"I know!" I yelled back between howls of laughter. Each time we tried to stop laughing, one of us let a chuckle slip, and then it started all over again. Finally, we calmed down enough to only snicker occasionally or crack a smile. For a moment, we stared at each other. My breath caught, and I blushed. Then Emilio smiled, and we both started laughing again.

I was no longer scared to drive a car.