I Paid $5,000 for Driving Lessons,Then I Shut the Whole School Down
Chapter 2
I went to the front desk to request a refund.
The dispatcher pulled out the contract I'd signed and pointed to a clause buried in the fine print：
This academy does not accept refund requests made without valid cause.
My son would be waking up in twenty minutes.
I didn't argue. I took a photo of the contract and left.
By the time I got home, my son had just woken up. The nanny was pushing his stroller on the balcony, letting him soak in the afternoon sun.
The moment he reached his little hands toward me, every ounce of frustration melted away.
That evening, my husband video-called to ask how driving practice was going.
He was overseas on a business trip. I didn't want him to worry, so I lied.
Every day after that, Thelma deliberately scheduled me last. Not once did I receive the one-on-one sessions I'd paid for.
Each rotation, the other students got two practice runs. I got one.
If my tires so much as grazed a line during a reverse park, she'd lose it, profanity flying before the wheel even stopped：
“Is your brain made of shit? Motherhood rot it clean through? My grandmother with a walker has faster reflexes than you!”
The car was already stifling. She made it worse by switching the AC off.
She kept me drilling the same maneuver in nearly a hundred-degree heat, over and over.
Sweat soaked through my clothes. My back stuck to the seat. The edges of my vision blurred.
Meanwhile she sat in the shade, scrolling her phone, tossing remarks my way：
“Moms are just dumb. You're not cut out for this. All you're doing is wasting everyone's time.”
Then came the pointed hints：
“Smart students know how to make their instructor's life easy and their own progress faster. Not like some people, freeloading through life for years.”
I acted like I hadn't heard a word.
Today was my fourth day of practice. Same as the three days before, she never once volunteered guidance on positioning.
Even when I was clearly drifting off course, she said nothing.
The second I made a mistake and crossed a line, she was on me, screaming.
After Thelma yelled me out of the car again, I stood in the shade and opened my thermos to take a drink.
One sip and I spat it out. Someone had dumped dirt and sand into my water.
“Who touched my water bottle?”
My eyes swept over the other six students in my group.
No one answered.
They were all crowded around Thelma, buying her drinks, iced teas, offering cigarettes, slipping her cash gifts on the side.
A guy with a slicked-up pompadour shot me a dirty look：
“It's bad enough you won't give gifts, but you can't even play nice with her? You make faces and the rest of us catch hell for it.”
I said：
“I'm here to get my license, not to kiss the ring.”
The words had barely left my mouth when April Lawrence tugged gently at my sleeve, her voice low：
“Darlene, you're right, we're here to get our licenses. That's exactly why it's not worth making an enemy of her. The only person that hurts is you.”
I could tell she wasn't criticizing me. She genuinely meant well.
I asked her：
“How long have you been at this?”
“I've taken the driving skills test twice already. Failed both times.”
“You practice well, though. How could you not pass?”
Her eyes went red. She cast a bitter glance at Thelma, then dropped her voice even lower：
“I used to think the same thing you do. Practice hard, nail the technique, pass the test. But……”
Before she could finish, Thelma's voice cracked across the lot like a whip：
“April Lawrence! You practicing or not? Two fails and you've already made me look like a joke!”
April flinched. She grabbed the iced fruit tea she'd just bought and hurried over, her face flushed, a smile forced onto her lips.
She held it out to Thelma with both hands, murmuring：
“Here, Thelma. Have something to drink.”
Then she ducked into the training car.
I quietly took out my phone and checked the recording running in the background.
Every word was there. Thelma's insults, her hints about gifts. All of it, crystal clear.
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