The Team // A Formula One AU

Carlos

"Hey, Max? What colour's your passport?" I ask.

"This colour." He shows me.

"Weird."

"How's that weird? What colour's yours?"

"The same, brown-ey purple, see? Like Charles', Seb's, Mick's and Esteban's."

"That's not weird. We're all EU citizens."

We're sitting on the floor of Heathrow airport, thirty minutes from boarding Virgin Atlantic on a ten hour flight to Indianapolis. The people around me are from all over the world and things like passports interest me, I want to get to know everyone. I know George and Lando best and we've really clicked as a clique, hoping we can help each other get to the top.

"Where is Lando anyway?" I ask my English friend, looking around the gate. I've always thought it weird, even for an England-based team, that there are so many English people here including the principal. I guess Tom didn't look very far for talent.

"Over there with Daniel and Fernando. We seem to have a thing about suitcases."

I look over and see them all trying to see how far they can ride their luggages before tipping over onto the ground, pushing them to top speed then jumping on and skidding across the waiting area. If there was anything fragile in them before, there isn't now.

Of course, I'm not trying to control Lando and what he does but I really wish he'd come back to chat with me. It's cool for him to hang with other people, obviously that's fine, I just really want to know what colour his passport is.

"Hey Lance, what colour's your passport?"

The Canadian looks up at me inquisitively. "Black."

"Mine's purple, see?" I smile at him and he nods slowly like I'm insane. Maybe I am insane. Oh well. Might as well live up to the reputation now.

"SPARKPLUG!" I yell over to the linoleum aisle where he's just fallen over again. "WHAT COLOUR IS YOUR PASSPORT?"

Tom gives me a glare and I see pretty much everyone else in the building is also staring at me. Oops. Lando comes over and sits beside me, rubbing his elbow.

"My passport's the same as George's, Carlos, I'm English too, remember?"

I laugh. "Oh yeah." George sniggers and Lando goes back to retrieve his luggage from the middle of the walkway where he left it.

"What is it with you and passports anyway?" George asks me.

"I don't know, I'm just bored."

"Have a Mento." He flips one into the air and I catch it and stuff it into my mouth before he can change his mind. I check my watch. Time to go.

It's a Boeing 747 with two floors I can see out of the huge glass wall beside me and as it's a morning take off it'll be pretty full. We occupy the whole of the back of the bottom floor and after a frantic effort for everyone to swap seats and sit with their friends I'm sitting in the window seat next to George. It's best to have him between me and Lando I think, for everyone's sanity.

The plane lifts off and I jiggle with excitement, at least until Valtteri kicks my chair from behind and tells me to stop shaking. Estaban has already pulled on his sleep mask and closed his window to the irritation of the others on his row. Why take a window seat if you aren't even going to look outside?

I watch the green fields go by between the patches of thick cloud, then I just watch the sea. I love travelling. My dad's career meant I got to go almost everywhere along with him and that's when I decided I wanted to be a racer. He wasn't too happy when I chose to race on tracks instead of rallying, but he still supported me all the way.

I feel homesick.

"Are you sleeping?" George nudges me and I turn to him, peeling my forehead off the window.

"No, I'm thinking about home."

"Have you ever been so far away before?" He asks. I nod and tell him about my days as my dad's chief cheerleader. He in return gives me his advice from racing abroad.

"And anyway, you don't need to feel too alone. I know everything's different all of a sudden but the best thing about Fortress is that it's a team. We're meant to compete, but we're also meant to support each other along the way."

"You really believe we'll all stay friends once the championship starts?" I ask.

"Hard to say," George sighs. "Probably not all of us will. But I'm not out to make any enemies. All my greatest successes have come when I've been part of a team."

I nod and rest my head back in my seat, letting my eyes droop closed. It's true. All my dad's successes were thanks to his team as well.

"Want to watch a movie together? I downloaded a couple on my laptop."

"Sure," I say. George hands me an earbud and I raise the armrest between us as he balances his laptop between our two tray tables. I glance at Lando, thinking he's going to feel left out, but his seat is empty.

"He's gone to play Top Trumps with Yuki and Lewis," George tells me.

"Probably for the best," I reply. I tuck my legs up underneath myself and take a look out the window as George chuckles and starts the film.