No Safety Net

The owner of the driving school, Victor Cross, stared at the petition. His face looked as gray as the concrete on the training lot.

"Harper Sutton, what did you just say?"

I closed the passenger door of the training car, unclipped my instructor badge, and set it on the roof.

"I said I'm done teaching them."

Sienna Vaughn stood at the front of the crowd, her high ponytail swaying as she held up her phone. "Coach Sutton, don't take it personally. We're just standing up for our rights."

She turned the screen toward me. The edited video she'd uploaded to a local social media account had already racked up thousands of likes.

In the footage, I slammed on the instructor brake, bringing the training car to a screeching stop before saying coldly, "Pull over. Get out. You're done for today."

The comments were brutal.

[What's wrong with this instructor?]

[Imagine paying to get yelled at.]

[She's obviously traumatized. She shouldn't be teaching anyone to drive.]

I stared silently at the heavily edited clip that showed nothing except me losing my temper.

I remembered the original footage perfectly.

A little boy had darted into the crosswalk, and a box truck was drifting across the lane line in my side mirror.

Sienna knew that. She'd been sitting in the back seat that day, clutching her chest as she'd gasped, "That scared me to death."

But now she'd cut every trace of the danger out of the video, leaving only the moments where I hit the brake and reprimanded the student.

Seeing my silence, a flicker of satisfaction crossed her face.

"Coach Sutton, don't blame us. The road test's almost here. Nobody wants to get so scared by you that they choke during the exam."

Mason Brooks let out a mocking laugh. "The second you get in the car, your eyes are glued to that passenger brake. It's like you think we're about to kill someone every second."

Standing near the back of the group, Melody Carter parted her lips as if she wanted to say something.

But in the end, she lowered her head.

Mr. Cross lowered his voice. "Harper, this video's getting out of hand. Just smooth things over with them. They've got their mock road test tomorrow."

I looked at him. "They've already signed a petition asking for a different instructor. That doesn't mean we actually have to switch!"

His voice rose with panic. "You've been teaching here for eight years. Your pass rate speaks for itself."

Sienna immediately cut in. "We want Coach Lawson."

Not far away, Coach Lawson walked over carrying a travel mug, an easy smile on his face.

"Harper, you've got to ease up on these young people. Driving's all about instinct. You don't have to make everything life or death."

I looked him straight in the eye. "Can instinct check your blind spots?"

His smile froze.

Sienna rolled her eyes. "There you go again."

I didn't argue any further. Instead, I pulled out a document I'd printed ahead of time.

Mr. Cross blinked. "When did you prepare that?"

"The moment the video went online." I placed the Instructor Transfer Confirmation form on the table.

"Once you sign this, you'll be voluntarily transferring to a different instructor. All future training will follow the driving school's standard procedures. I'll no longer be responsible for your lessons, and I won't be offering any private help afterward."

The smile on Sienna's face faltered. "Isn't this just a threat?"

"No." I handed her the pen. "It's respecting your decision."

Mason snatched the pen first. "Fine by me. It's not like we can't get our licenses without you."

One after another, all twelve students signed their names.

After signing, Sienna deliberately tossed the pen onto the table. "Coach Lawson, we'll be counting on you from now on."

Coach Lawson patted the training car. "Don't worry. I'm not nearly as strict. This afternoon, we'll loosen up and take a couple of easy laps."

The group immediately erupted in cheers.

I tucked away the signed confirmation and turned to leave. As I walked past the training lot, a sharp pain shot through my knee.

Rain was coming. My old injury was always more accurate than the weather forecast.

Years ago, one of my students had mistaken the gas pedal for the brake on an elevated highway, sending the car straight toward the guardrail.

I'd thrown myself onto the instructor brake, smashing my knee into the center console so hard my vision went black.

But after the car stopped, that student had hugged me and cried.

"Coach Sutton, thank you for saving my life."

I'd once believed everyone remembered that the instructor brake existed to save lives. Until Sienna edited every stomp of that brake into evidence against me.

At four that afternoon, laughter echoed across the training lot.

Sienna sat behind the wheel, steering with one hand while holding up her phone with the other to film herself.

"Look, everyone! Without that crazy instructor slamming the brakes, I'm driving just fine."

The car drifted over the white lane marking. Ahead, an elderly janitor was pushing a trash cart across the lane.

Instinctively, I took a step forward. Then I stopped.

Coach Lawson lazily pressed the instructor brake, bringing the car to a stop barely a foot and a half from the janitor.

Sienna leaned out the window and grinned at me. "See? You don't have to scream at people to stop the car."

I didn't answer.

But that night, Mr. Cross sent me a text.

[Harper, Sienna's father is coming tomorrow morning. He says you scared his daughter so badly that she's afraid to take the driving test.]