Read Online Going Off Script by Giuliana Rancic - Free Book Online

mistake was going to cost me my license. No way was I going down without a fight.
    “This is the worst day of my life! And on top of it, you are being such a bitch!”
    “Oh, really?” She looked down at her clipboard and furiously jotted something down. “That’s an automatic sixteen points taken off for Attitude. You’re done,” she concluded, thrusting the failing score sheet at me.
    “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shrieked.
    “You better stop cussing,” she warned.
    “No! This is fucking ridiculous! I want my fucking license!”
    She got out of the car and marched up to my parents, who smiled proudly, assuming she had come to congratulate them on raising such a wonderful driver.
    “Your daughter has a real attitude problem,” she informed them. “I failed her for running a stop sign and for her nasty behavior. She just called me a bitch.” Everyone else stopped jumping and applauding. Babbo briefly studied the examiner and considered her complaint before responding.
    “Well, that’s-
a
because you
are
a beetch!” he shouted.
    Oh no, here we go,
I thought. The only thing that could possibly make the situation any worse would be if Officer Pervy made good on his threat and swooped in to cuff me. Mayhem was prevented only because DMV Beetch realized that a couple of carloads of crazy Italians would easily take out every examiner on duty in a parking lot brawl. We all went home to finish celebrating my birthday. If I laid low for a while, I might be able to retake the test and pass before Officer Pervy hunted me down.
    I flunked the second time, too, but without the drama.
    I was relieved that Officer Pervy had forgotten all about me and my little unlicensed driver escapade, which, after all, wasnothing compared to all my other unlicensed driver escapades. Just before I was eligible to take the driving test for a third time, I came out of school one afternoon to see a familiar face waiting for me.
    “I hear you failed your driving test,” Officer Pervy said. It was pretty obvious why he hadn’t shot up the ranks and made detective yet. Half the school knew I had failed. Freshmen knew I had failed. I nodded my head and tried to look dejected. Officer Pervy had a pretend sad smirk on his face. “You hungry?” he asked. “C’mon.” He took me to my favorite fast-food joint, Roy Rogers, where he watched me eat chicken legs dipped in mayo and smack my fingers while I chattered on about my fascinating life as a high school student.
    The third time was a charm at the DMV, but Officer Pervy didn’t forget about me. He would pop up every so often to take me out for fast food, and I would tell him about the kids at school—who was smoking, who was hooking up with a football player, who got busted for making out in a bathroom stall. As far as looks went, Pervy was never going to make the cut for a first responders calendar: he was fortyish and paunchy, with brown hair and a mustache. Nonetheless, I still thought it was proof of my coolness that a cop actually seemed fascinated by my stories and wanted to pal around with me. One day, he showed up in the Whitman parking lot while I was hanging out with a bunch of my friends. He kept trying to signal me to come over. “What’s that cop doing here?” my friends wondered. “What’s he want?” I shrugged along with them, and ignored Pervy’s insistent gestures. Finally he called out, “Giuliana, can I ask you a quick question?” I sauntered up to his car.
    “What?” I asked. I could feel my friends watching while pretending not to, everyone urgently speculating about what kind of trouble I had managed to get myself into.
    “What did you want to ask me?” I asked Pervy again. Hefidgeted with a bag in his hand and looked nervous. Our relationship was 100 percent platonic, but we both understood without saying so that the power had shifted between us many McNuggets ago. He was no longer an authority figure. Now he was just an adult who seemed awkward