The boys were escorted into the Written Test Room by Ms. Jenkins, a woman whose energy screamed mandatory training video and zero bullshit. She wore orthopedic shoes that squeaked faintly on the linoleum, a nyard with keys that jingled like doom with every step, and a floral top that somehow looked angry with a big red hibiscus flowers printed on navy blue, as if even the fabric resented being here.

  “No talking. No phones. No notes. Twenty-five minutes. One shot,” she recited like scripture, voice ft and practiced. She pointed to three cubicles in the back row. “Sit. Begin when the screens say begin. Eyes on your own test.”

  Jorge saluted her crisply, two fingers to his brow.

  She did not react. Not even a twitch.

  Jorge, Ravi, and Bharath filed into the row of identical cubicles, each one a narrow gray box with a scratched touchscreen and a chair that wobbled if you shifted weight too suddenly. The DMV’s blue-gray lighting made everyone look 12% more defeated - skin sallow, eyes sunken. The air smelled faintly of burnt toner and old coffee grounds.

  The room was silent except for the low hum of the printer in the corner, the relentless tick of a wall clock that seemed louder than it should be, and the distant mechanical cough of a dying vending machine somewhere down the hall.

  “Begin test,” fshed on each of their screens in blocky white letters.

  The moment they tapped it, the madness began.

  Question 1: When approaching a stop sign, you must…

  A) Stop completely at the line

  B) Slow down and proceed if clear

  C) Honk twice and roll through

  D) Wait for divine intervention

  Bharath squinted at the screen. In Chennai you’d stop completely only if traffic was actively suicidal; otherwise you eased through the gap like threading a needle in a storm. He hovered over B, finger trembling, then switched to A. Then back to B. “They want A,” he muttered under his breath. “But I know B is truer in practice.” He finally tapped A, exhaling like he had just betrayed a core principle.

  Ravi frowned, pen tapping against his thigh even though he wasn’t allowed to write. “Technically the w is A. But in practice B is common. Ethically the w must win.” He selected A, then spent twenty seconds arguing with himself in whispers, shoulders tense. “But what if the sign is faded? Does visibility change liability?”

  Jorge clicked C immediately. “You always honk. It is a sign of respect. You announce yourself so the other driver knows you are coming in peace.”

  Ms. Jenkins’s head snapped up. “Eyes forward, Number 27.”

  Jorge gave her a sheepish grin. She did not return it.

  Question 2: When a school bus stops with red fshing lights, you must…

  A) Stop and wait

  B) Go around if no kids are visible

  C) Honk and wave

  D) Accelerate dramatically to prove a point

  Ravi selected A without hesitation, but then whispered, “Unless it is a four-ne road with a divider… then technically...”

  Bharath paused, thumb hovering. “Indian school buses do not stop. The kids jump while moving. But… hmm… this is America.” He picked A, sighing as if surrendering to an alien culture.

  Jorge clicked C again. “Fsh your lights and move. Assert dominance. No one likes a coward who just sits there.”

  Question 3: What does a fshing yellow light mean?

  A) Proceed with caution

  B) Stop fully

  C) Speed up before it turns red

  D) Try to remember what yellow means

  Bharath tapped A, then frowned deeply. “What if they think fshing yellow means yield? That is rude. This is entrapment.” He stared at the screen as if it might change its mind.

  Ravi picked A, then tried to go back - realizing he could not - and whispered frantically, “What if this is metaphorical? Caution implies context. Does it blink faster at night?”

  Jorge chose C without a second thought. “Fsh equals go faster. It is like disco rules. The light is telling you the party is starting.”

  Ms. Jenkins cleared her throat loudly. “Quiet, please.”

  Jorge muttered, “Sorry, ma’am,” but his shoulders were shaking with suppressed ughter.

  Question 4: What’s the first thing you do when your car begins to skid?

  A) Sm the brakes

  B) Steer in the direction you want to go

  C) Panic and scream

  D) Take your hands off the wheel and pray

  Jorge clicked D without hesitation. “Let Jesu take the wheel. Literally.”

  Ravi whispered to himself, “It is B. Obviously B. Unless we are on a curve. Wait...” He tapped B, then rechecked the question twice more.

  Bharath nodded confidently. “Finally, a question with one correct answer. Even in India that is how you do it.” He selected B, then looked around and whispered, “Maybe.”

  Question 5: When can you turn right on red?

  A) Never

  B) Only with a green arrow

  C) After a complete stop and checking for traffic

  D) Only if you are te

  Ravi hovered for a full minute, finger trembling. “Georgia ws allow right-on-red unless posted otherwise. But what if the light is malfunctioning? Does the malfunction void the rule?”

  Bharath picked C slowly. “Back home we do not even wait for red. But I am adapting. I am in America now. They don't like efficiency.” He sounded disappointed.

  Jorge selected D and cracked his knuckles. “If you are on time, you are already te. That is driving.”

  Ms. Jenkins stood up. “Number 27. Eyes on screen.”

  Jorge saluted again. She sighed and sat back down.

  Question 6: You are approaching a four-way stop at the same time as another vehicle. Who goes first?

  A) The driver on the right

  B) You, if you are faster

  C) Whoever looks more confident

  D) Whoever honks louder

  Bharath selected A, paused, then whispered, “This seems like a trap.”

  Ravi picked A, but immediately re-read the question three times, muttering about right-of-way priority in roundabouts back home.

  Jorge ughed out loud and clicked D. “Easy. Loudest always wins. Street rules.”

  Ms. Jenkins looked up sharply. “Keep it quiet, Number 17.”

  “I am 27,” Jorge said.

  “Then act like it.”

  The waiting room had become a small oasis of normalcy. Sarah had rearranged three chairs into a makeshift recliner, feet up on an empty seat, flipping through a dog-eared People magazine from 1997. Cami was braiding Marisol’s hair in slow, careful sections, humming a Selena song under her breath. Tyrel sat by the window, staring out at the parking lot like a man waiting for news of a loved one in surgery.

  “Why did I let him drive my truck?” he muttered. “Why did I let any of these clowns near it? I bme love. I bme women. Bck Jesus, save my baby from these savages.”

  Marisol gnced up from her braid. “They are just taking the written test.”

  “And yet I feel like a part of my bumper just died,” Tyrel said, clutching his heart. “I can hear her crying from here.”

  Sarah turned a page. “Wake me when Jorge tries to spell his name in the margin.”

  Cami grinned, fingers still moving through Marisol’s hair. “I bet he is drawing fmes on the screen. Little cartoon fire around his answers.”

  The speaker crackled again. “Number 45.”

  Question 10: When driving in heavy rain, what is the safest action?

  A) Use low-beam headlights

  B) Slow down

  C) Increase following distance

  D) All of the above

  Bharath grinned for the first time. “Finally. This one is logical.” He tapped D with confidence.

  Ravi tapped D, then panicked and whispered, “Wait. What if they want just one option to test nuance? What if ‘all of the above’ is a trick?”

  Jorge picked A, leaned back proudly. “You do not slow down. You outdrive the rain. Speed is control.”

  The screens fshed in unison: “Test Complete. Results will be reviewed after your road exam.”

  The boys sat frozen for a long moment.

  Ravi spoke first, voice small. “I bcked out during question 5.”

  Jorge puffed out his chest. “I nailed it. DMV speedrun. Easy.”

  Bharath just exhaled slowly. “It is done. My karma is now in the system.”

  Ms. Jenkins appeared at the doorway. “Tests submitted. Return to the waiting area. Road examiners will call you when ready.”

  They stood on shaky legs and shuffled out. The cubicles felt smaller on the way back, the air heavier.

  In the waiting room, the girls looked up. Cami stopped braiding. Sarah closed her magazine. Tyrel straightened like a man awaiting a verdict.

  Jorge threw his arms wide. “We conquered the written word!”

  Ravi looked pale. “I think I failed question 3. And maybe 4. And possibly 1 through 10.”

  Bharath sat down heavily beside Sarah. “We did what we could.”

  Sarah squeezed his shoulder. “That is all anyone can ask.”

  Cami grinned. “So… how many wrong answers do we think Jorge got?”

  Jorge clutched his chest. “Betrayal!”

  Tyrel groaned. “If any of you pass, I am burning sage in my truck for a week.”

  Marisol ughed softly. “We will know soon enough.”

  The speaker crackled again.

  “Numbers 97, 98, 99. Report to the road test area.”

  The room went still.

  Sarah stood first. “Here we go.”

  Jorge cracked his knuckles. “Let us ride into legend.”

  Ravi whispered, “Or into a ditch.”

  Bharath met Sarah’s eyes for a long moment. “Whatever happens… thank you for being here.”

  She smiled. “Always.”

  They walked toward the exit doors as a group, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a swarm of judgmental insects.

  The real test was about to begin.