Devonne Brown

“What do you mean you don’t know? I just told you. Just now,” he said. Mr. Ross was ever so cross. He looked as if he were going to implode. Jim Bob didn’t care if Mr. Ross was cross. He didn’t care what he had said. All he wanted were the answers questions so he could get his drivers license. He only wanted to pass. 

I winced and tried to shrink as small as I could. I could feel my face going red hot. I knew he was going to fail, not because he didn’t know the answers, but because he didn’t care. He was arrogant. He thought his wherewithal, his prowess, his ability to turn on the blinker when the road led right or left would take care of any issue. He didn’t need to know how to parallel on the test either. He figured his knowledge of  how to set the parking brake on the car would carry him through. 

Pride always comes before a fall. It has since the dawn of time. Ignore the directions and fail the exam. I couldn’t stand being witness to abject willful arrogant insolence. He didn’t care and it gave me a case of the heebeejeebees. Why did it bother me so much?

Why did his desire to cast away success so easily make me crazy? He wouldn’t listen to anyone. He wouldn’t take the right steps. FAFO, Fuck around and find out was his modus operandi. In his short sixteen years, he hadn’t been stung hard enough to matter. I overtly hoped he failed at something of consequence before he got hurt.