The Cactus at the Test Centre

Zeke arrived at the driving test centre an hour early. He had been awake since five, and his stomach felt like a washing machine. His test was at ten. It was only nine now.

He sat on a low wall and watched the learner cars roll in and out. Every driver looked calm. Every driver looked like a person who had never stalled an engine in their life.

"Stop it," Zeke told himself. "You have practised for six months."

Then something small caught his eye. It lay on the tarmac beside the wall, and it was no bigger than a walnut. Zeke picked it up. It was a tiny cactus in a plastic pot the size of an egg cup. Under the pot, a little magnet was stuck on with tape.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

The cactus said nothing, but the magnet told him a lot. People put magnets like that on car dashboards. Somebody had lost a lucky charm on the worst possible day. Zeke knew exactly how that felt, and it gave him something to do besides worry.

He walked to the kiosk at the entrance. A man in a yellow jacket sat there, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

"Excuse me," said Zeke. "Did anyone report a lost cactus?"

"That is not mine," the man said. "I only know about cars. But the instructor with the silver hatchback has a lot of little things on her dashboard. She always parks by the bins."

Zeke thanked him and crossed the car park. The silver hatchback stood next to the bins. A tall woman was wiping its windscreen.

"Sorry to bother you," said Zeke. "Is this cactus yours?"

She leaned closer and smiled. "What a lovely little thing. No, mine is a plastic duck, and he is much louder." She pointed across the car park. "But I have seen one like it before. A young man was holding it in the waiting room last week. He was talking to it before his test."

"Ask in the waiting room," said the instructor.

So Zeke went into the waiting room. It was a plain room with plastic chairs, a vending machine and a poster about mirrors. Six people sat there, and all of them were staring at the floor.

"Does anybody here own a cactus?" Zeke asked.

Nobody laughed. A girl in a green jumper looked up and sighed.

"It might be mine," she said. "Let me see it." She took the pot and turned it over in her hands. Then she shook her head. "No. Mine is bigger, and it has a pink flower." She gave it back. "But I think I know whose this is. I did my test yesterday, and I failed."

"I am sorry," said Zeke.

"It's fine." She shrugged. "Anyway, the examiner had a cactus on his dashboard. It was tiny, like this one, and it was stuck on with a magnet. When I did the emergency stop, it flew off the dashboard and hit the window. He caught it and put it back. Then he wrote on his paper for a long time."

"Do you remember his name?" asked Zeke.

"Garrick," said the girl. "He is the one with the grey clipboard. He is very serious, but he was kind to me. He said that everyone is allowed one bad day."

Zeke felt his heart jump. "Which examiner do you think I will get at ten?"

"I cannot know that," she said. "But if the cactus is his, he will be happy to see it. Good luck."

Zeke put the cactus into his pocket and went back outside. It was half past nine. He decided to walk around the car park to calm down. That was when the real trouble started.

A delivery van came round the corner too fast. Zeke jumped back, and the cactus flew out of his pocket. It bounced twice and rolled across the tarmac, straight towards the van's front wheel.

"No!" shouted Zeke.

He did not think. He ran and dropped to his knees, and he reached under the van just as the driver stopped. His fingers closed around the little pot. Something sharp pricked his thumb, but he did not care. He pulled his arm back and held the cactus above his head like a trophy.

The van driver opened his window. "I nearly drove over your arm!" he shouted.

"Sorry," said Zeke. "I am rescuing a plant."

The driver shook his head and drove away slowly. Zeke looked at the cactus. It was fine. Only a piece of tape had come off the magnet. He pressed it back down.

At five to ten, a door opened on the far side of the building. A man in a dark coat came out, holding a grey clipboard and a car key. He had a serious face, and he walked like someone who had never been late in his life.

"Is Zeke here?" he called.

"That's me," said Zeke. His voice came out very small.

"I am Garrick. I will be your examiner today." The man looked at Zeke's dirty knees, and one eyebrow went up. "Are you ready?"

"Almost." Zeke pulled the cactus out of his pocket. "I think this is yours, sir. I found it on the ground this morning. I asked three people before I found out who owns it."

Garrick stopped walking. For a moment his serious face changed completely. He took the cactus in both hands, as if it was a bird.

"I have looked for this everywhere," he said. "It has sat on my dashboard for eleven years. It rolled away yesterday, and I thought it was gone for good." He looked up. "You went around the whole car park for this?"

"I had time," said Zeke. "And I nearly lost it under a van. But it's safe now."

"Thank you," said Garrick. He cleared his throat and became serious again very quickly. "This does not change anything about your test, you understand. I mark only your driving."

"Of course," said Zeke.

They walked to the test car together. Garrick pressed the magnet onto the dashboard, and he gave it a little pat. Zeke sat down and checked his mirrors twice. His hands were shaking. He looked at the cactus and thought about the van, and he felt braver.

The first ten minutes went well. Garrick wrote on his clipboard and said very little.

Then, on a quiet road, Garrick said, "Stop the car as quickly as you can, please."

Zeke pressed the brake hard. The car stopped in a straight line. The cactus did not move at all, because it was held firmly by its magnet. Zeke breathed out slowly.

"Good," said Garrick, and he wrote something down.

The rest of the test passed in a blur. At last the car rolled back into the test centre car park, and Garrick switched off the engine.

For a long minute, the only sound was his pen on the paper.

"Well," said Garrick. "I am happy to tell you that you have passed."

Zeke shouted so loudly that two pigeons flew off the wall. "Sorry, sir," he said.

"It's fine," said Garrick, and he almost smiled. "You drove carefully. I do not often see a candidate who rescues a plant before his test."

Zeke laughed. He looked at the cactus on the dashboard and shook his head. "I think the cactus helped me."

"Of course," said Garrick. "It has been in this car for eleven years. It has never once said 'slow down' or 'watch that cyclist'. It is the best passenger I have ever had."

"Then it deserves a pass as well," said Zeke.

"No," said Garrick, and he gently turned the pot. "It is prickly, but it is fair."