As soon as the plastic stools were set up, Sarah and Ashley arrived in a hurry.
Ashley jumped three feet high, bouncing happily with her ponytail swinging behind her head. "Freedom! No more battling brutal math problems!"
She stretched her arms exaggeratedly, and the hem of her short-sleeved shirt lifted up slightly with the movement, revealing a hint of her waistline.
Sarah maintained her usual composure, gently pulled out a chair and sat down. "Everyone did well on the exam!"
Her eyes swept over everyone's faces and finally fixed on Ethan—this guy was rhythmically tapping beer bottles with chopsticks, as if he was playing some kind of symphony.
The SATs were over, as if the world had gone quiet. The smoke rising from the grill blurred the halos of the street lamps.
Jack counted on his fingers. "Now we don't have to time ourselves when we go to the bathroom, we don't have to scarf down our food, and we can even go to the arcade!"
As he spoke, he deliberately collapsed on the chair in a sprawled-out pose, which made everyone laugh.
Indeed, after the tight strings were suddenly released, everyone was lazy as if they'd had their bones removed.
Only Ethan still looked calm and collected—after all, for someone reborn, the SATs were just a formality.
The folding table was quickly filled with skewers and bottles of fruity beer.
Ashley dipped the tip of her chopstick in beer and wrote on the table. "I got the right answers on the multiple-choice section. I should only have gotten two wrong!" Her eyes were as bright as stars, and her dimples were full of smiles.
Sarah calmly analyzed, "Based on the answer key, there shouldn't be any problem for the two of us getting into NYU."
Saying that, she glanced at Ethan, who was munching on chicken wings—this guy didn't even bother to participate in the assessment, just piled the chili flakes into a small mountain.
Ethan knew very well that Sarah and Ashley had absolutely no problem getting into NYU. In his previous life, both their scores had exceeded NYU's admission cutoff.
"Jack, you're really a dark horse this time!" Ashley suddenly slammed the table, causing the beer bottles to clink.
Jack scratched his head embarrassedly, the tips of his ears turning red. "Thanks to Ethan's practice problems..."
He glanced at Ethan, who was stacking the toasted bread slices into a pyramid, looking like it had nothing to do with him.
Indeed, who would've thought that this underachiever who used to be at the bottom of the class would now be touching the threshold of a top 50 school? Ethan chuckled internally, thinking of the key problem sets he'd compiled for Jack while staying up late, and the nights when he'd deliberately tempted him with BBQ to keep him studying during tutoring sessions.
The night breeze swept over the table wrapped in cumin fragrance, and Sarah suddenly raised her beer bottle. "To the future."
The four glass bottles collided under the warm yellow light, and the foam that splashed looked like their unrestrained youth at this moment.
The skewers piled up on the table.
The topic jumped from the just-concluded SATs to the upcoming World Cup.
Ashley gestured excitedly. "I heard the German team lineup is super strong this year!"
Ethan smirked internally when he heard this, because it was the German team that would win the championship this year.
"Speaking of plans," Sarah took a sip of fruity beer, "don't forget we're practicing driving at the driving school tomorrow."
It turned out that just a few days ago, the driving school banner at the school entrance that said "Four-person group discount—save $1000" had attracted them.
Now that the SATs were over, it was undoubtedly the best time to get their driver's licenses.
They talked until after 11 p.m. before heading home.
Ethan and Jack rode back on the electric scooter.
Sarah and Ashley took an Uber back.
When Ethan collapsed on his bed, the phone screen lit up in the dark, and the red badge of unread messages was like a string of small lanterns.
There were 99+ messages in the family group, and his uncle was still sending boomer-style "Congrats on finishing the SATs" memes.
The voice message sent by his sister was mixed with the background sound of laboratory equipment. "You brat! Don't stay out too late after the exam!"
He swiped to Victoria's chat, and the last message was from two hours ago: "Don't eat anything sketchy after the exam!" Attached was a screenshot of a news story about a student getting food poisoning.
Ethan sent a photo of the BBQ joint with clean plates, and immediately received three angry head-bonking emojis.
Diana's message was brief and restrained: "How did it go?"
He could almost see her awkward appearance locking her screen after posting.
He typed and deleted in the reply box, finally only sending a smug OK emoji.
He finished replying to all the messages around early morning.
The phone slipped from his fingers, landed on his chest, and he didn't bother picking it up before falling asleep.
The next day at 8 AM.
Jack was wearing a set of athletic wear and a baseball cap. When Ethan rubbed his sleepy eyes and came downstairs, he found Jack already sitting on his living room couch, fiddling with the tea set like he knew what he was doing.
"You didn't call me when you got here?" Ethan scratched his messy hair.
Jack didn't look up and pretended to take a refined sip of tea. "Bro, I was being considerate of the test-taker."
Ethan raised his eyebrows and looked at his outfit. "Yo, you even bought athletic wear?" He reached out and touched the material. "It's even moisture-wicking."
"Of course!" Jack finally couldn't help laughing. "Gotta loosen up those muscles for the driving test, right?"
The two rode the electric scooter to the driving school, and Sarah and Ashley also arrived.
The four of them entered the driving school together.
Everyone who wanted to learn driving gathered in the square, and at nine o'clock, five instructors came to the driving school.
Ethan and the others were assigned to an instructor named Mike Garcia.
The tan-skinned veteran rolled up the sleeves of his polo shirt and looked at them while chewing gum. "Yo, post-SAT crew?"
He casually tossed the car keys. "Today we're gonna work the steering wheel to death."
The first project was dizzying—turning the steering wheel in place.
Two and a half turns to the left and two and a half turns to the right. Ashley got to the third round and was dizzy. "Wait! Where are my hands right now?"
Her ponytail was scattered, making her look like a confused hamster.
Jack was even more impressive, turning himself so hard he almost fell off the stool.
The scene was even more tragic during the parallel parking exercise. Although Sarah got a perfect score on the written test, the markings in the rearview mirror were as complex as advanced calculus formulas to her eyes.
Ethan watched the usually calm honor student with sweat beading on her forehead and his shoulders trembled with laughter.
"Watch the three o'clock line!" Instructor Mike slammed the car door and roared.
One female student turned the steering wheel too hard and almost smashed the side mirror into the bumper of the car next to them. What was even more amazing was that during hill start practice, one guy stalled five times in a row, and suspicious white smoke floated out from under the hood.
The most thrilling was the S-curve training.
Jack got excited for a moment and hit the gas instead of the brake, and the practice car shot out like a wild horse.
Instructor Mike quickly stepped on the dual brake, and the whole car lurched forward suddenly—Ashley's bangs flew into a center part.
Instructor Mike wiped away a bead of cold sweat. "Good God, are you guys trying to make me go viral on internet?"
"This is fucking ridiculous!" Instructor Mike took a deep drag on his cigarette, staring at the crooked training cars in the square, veins throbbing on his forehead.
The skill level of this group of students was absolutely abysmal, and his performance bonus was probably going to tank.
The only thing that made him happy was that there was actually a skilled driver hidden in this group of rookies.
He watched Ethan holding the steering wheel with one hand, the car gliding smoothly into the parking spot, the tires nowhere near the sideline.
He didn't even need to check the rearview mirror when reversing, getting it in position just by feel—this level of proficiency meant he was at least a veteran who'd put serious miles on two or three cars.
In his previous life, he'd been an experienced driver. Ethan had worn out several cars' exhaust systems, so now he was naturally familiar with the steering wheel.
There are 40 advance chapters ahead in my Patreon. If you are interested can check it out.
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