Free Leap Day by Wendy Mass

about the history of Disney World.”
    “Boy, you must really be bored.” But he doesn’t look bored. There’s a gleam in his eye I haven’t seen very much of before.
    “Did you know there are hundreds of Mickey Mouse designs hidden all around the parks?”
    “No, Dad. I did not know that.”
    “Yup.” He doesn’t say anything else so I start daydreaming about an alternate me who lives in a parallel universe and who fails her test and hides in her closet in shame. As long as the alternate me fails, then the real me will have to succeed. It stands to reason. We slow down for a red light and I make a mental note of how close to the light Dad gets before he starts braking. When we come to a full stop he turns to me and asks, “You know how your mother and I always encourage you kids to follow your dreams?”
    That’s twice in five minutes that people have surprised me with what they ask. “Why is everyone asking me such weird questions lately? Do I have a sign on my back?”
    “Who else asked you a weird question?”
    “Some kid at school asked me if I’d heard of parallel universes. What were you saying about dreams?”
    We’re nearing the parking lot now for the Department of Motor Vehicles, and I should be focusing on my test. Instead, we’re talking about dreams. This is not the way I thought this drive would go.
    “If you had a dream, you’d want to pursue it, right?” Dad asks, keeping his eyes on the road. “Like how you love acting so much. You wouldn’t let anything stop you, right?”
    “I don’t know, I guess not. Why? Do you know something I don’t know about the play? Tryouts aren’t until this afternoon.” Then my heart starts to pound faster. Did Mr. Polansky call home to tell my parents I wasn’t going to get it? Was my father trying to warn me?
    We pull into a spot at the DMV, and Dad shuts off the car as my heart continues to pound. “No,” he says, “it’s not about you.”
    I’m embarrassed, yet relieved. “Oh.”
    “Maybe we should talk about this afterwards. You have much more important things to do right now than listen to me blabber on.”
    Before I can argue, he hustles me through the doors of the gray brick building. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. Dad peers up at the different signs hanging from the ceiling and motions me to the far right line.
    “Who has a dream then?” I ask as we make our way through the rows of hard plastic chairs. “Is this about Rob choosing which college to go to?”
    He shakes his head. “You really need to focus now. Do you have your information?”
    I dig through my bag and find the folder where I put my birth certificate and the card from driver’s ed saying I passed the written exam. Luckily three of the five people in line ahead of us were actually standing in the wrong line, so we reach the front in only a few minutes. The tired-looking woman behind the counter holds out her hand, palm up, and I give her the two documents. She enters some information in the computer and then goes to use the photocopy machine. She doesn’t appear to be an overly happy person. In fact, as I look around, nobody seems very happy to be here.
    The woman returns and gives me my papers along with a small orange form with my name printed on top. “Give this to your instructor,” she says in a monotone voice and points me to a door on the other side of the building. “Wait there and someone will come get you.”
    We do as we’re told and join two other kids and their parents. The girl is aggressively chewing on a cuticle. I’m afraid any minute she’s going to start gnawing on her entire finger. The boy is staring straight ahead, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. It’s very rhythmic. Now that the time is almost here, my heart starts beating faster. I wonder if the swaying boy can hear it.
    The boy’s mother asks me and the other girl if our birthdays were yesterday, like her son’s. The girl