His eyes are wide behind those stupid glasses.

“I… you’re misinterpreting,” I scramble, my voice too high. “I want what’s best for you! How else are you supposed to learn without some… physical reference points? You think you can learn to drive from a manual?”

But inside, my mind is screaming, “He knows. He knows. He knows.”

I look at his ruffled hair, his frown, the way he’s clutching his backpack. God, he’s so stupid. So beautifully, infuriatingly stupid. That’s ...