My friends and family criticized me. Even my friends who hadn't driven with me said I was a bad driver. Amanda had told them horror stories and totally made me look bad. Friends who had driven with me just made it worse. A cute boy who I was crushing on (who also turned out to be jerk) turned it into a teasing game. He was obviously just playing when he told me I couldn't drive, but that just hurt even more. He didn't realize it, I'm sure, but it really hurt me.

My own father refused to drive with me, because I was "a horrible driver" who "was going to kill him." The only one who stuck up for me was the woman who drove with me the most - my mother. In fact, she didn't even watch me drive after a while. She just sat in the passenger seat, texting her business partner. I didn't get it. At this point, Elizabeth and one of my other friends had actually crashed their cars, but I was the bad driver? Nothing made sense. I just wanted to give up.

The day before my third test was hell. My father refused to drive with me, but my mother was out of town, so he had to. He got in the car and sighed. I knew before I started the engine it was going to be bad. He started yelling when I was driving. I freaked out. I started crying and my eyes were blurring. I couldn't see. It was the scariest moment of my life. I just wanted to give up. The only reason I was getting my license was so he didn't have to drive me. I cancelled my test and was done. Just done.

My mother told me I had to do a third try. I didn't understand. She let Amanda quit so why not me? It wasn't fair. She told me I had gone too far. I agreed, not happy, and scheduled another test. I never drove with my father again.

My third test was today. If I hadn't passed, I would've quit. My friends and father were right. I am a danger to the road. The cute boy did something right, as much as I hate him right now. He told me he took it at Van Nuys. Van Nuys is half an hour away, but he convinced me that it was the way to go, and I listened to him.