The Team // A Formula One AU

Kimi

"Kimi."

I jump a little. Me?

Max whoops and starts a round of applause and Nikita scowls, probably realising that his lead isn't going to last long. But my qualifying troubles are over. Second. I grin.

Lando sidles over to me and starts jabbering tips for how to stay ahead of Max. Even when an outsider is about to steal his grid position he's thinking as part of the team. I vaguely admire his loyalty and watch as he unties his laces, letting it all sink into my brain. I'm starting on the front row today, and I've got the better side of the track for grip. And all because of a freak thunderstorm.

Mick gets called to start third, followed by Valtteri, Pierre, Alex then Lando himself. The two championship frontrunners of Max and Seb are close to the back, along with George who deserves more points than he has so far. It won't be an easy race, but it could certainly be starting out worse.

We go to the pit lane and I sense I'm not the only one full of nervous energy. I jump a couple of times on the spot and stretch my hands and wrists. I'm scared. All our karts stand there in a row, ready and waiting for today's race. I bite the inside of my lip. This is it.

"Good luck, Kimi," Max says as he walks towards his box at the front of the line. I give him a tight smile and he returns a reassuring one, carrying on until everyone has his best wishes. It's irrational because I've felt it since I got here, but for some reason I feel a much bigger sense of team spirit now. Everyone wants me to do well against Nikita. We walk outside.

The sunlight is warm but not too warm, the track has been freshly cleaned and the small crowd is going insane. We take a team photo for the media then it's helmets on and into the karts. There's a bit of shuffling on the formation lap to get everyone into their proper positions, but soon I'm really here. Clear air up ahead. Eighteen other drivers on my tail.

One, two, three, four, five. Zero.

Nikita is immediately off at high pace and glances sideways at me every so often to check if I'm making any mistakes. I'm not. He and I pass the first corner wheel to wheel and remain that way up until the timing board. I brake late into turn two and get past. Now there's no one holding me up.

From there I settle quickly into the race. I create a bit of a gap behind me and find myself checking on the others, looking over the tyre barriers but refraining from looking directly behind. Mick clears Lando but then Lewis appears behind both of them. He barrels into the chicane like a madman and I twist my neck, watching him pass the two karts and then come barrelling after me.

I fix my gaze ahead. Focus time.

Everything seems loud. My spine prickles at the sound of Lewis' engine straining to keep up with me. He's done something to his kart recently which has really helped him catch people up. I hold on for a couple more laps, but then I'm undone by that same chicane trick.

"Crazy..." I mutter as he bounces off a kerb and straightens up in front of me. Back down to second. But he can't keep that up forever.

I check the timing board and it tells me it's only been seven laps. I feel like I've been defending Lewis all my life.

My moves become pinpoint accurate, but I'm still being distracted by the other action on the track. For a lap Sebastian is in third, but then he disappears and after a while I spot him standing in the pit lane. That's one less problem. But there's still the unstoppable force of Max Verstappen to deal with.

All friendly support is gone when the visors are down. He wished me luck, but he didn't wish for me to steal his precious points. He's spurred on by the ominous figure of George Russell close behind him and I get the impression they're both relishing the opportunity to fight their way through from the back of the grid.

For some reason, Gina pops into my mind. It's been over two weeks since I met her and this is the first time I've taken her words seriously.

Max passes on the final corner, and George gets me by turn one.

Maybe you give up too easily.

I accelerate a little harder. It's easily to follow when they're having such an interesting battle, George sizing up a move around the outside but Max covering it before taking an alternative line and keeping his advantage. It looks like they're enjoying it, nothing like the first couple of races where they wanted to either humiliate each other or die trying.

I forget all about their battle when Mick flies past me. I slam my palm against my steering wheel and scream inside my helmet. No Gina, my problem isn't giving up too quickly. It's that I can't concentrate. Now Lando is behind me again, knowing he's already passed me once in the beginning of this race. I focus everything I have on covering him off, desperately clinging to fifth place, which would be the same as last week and give me some very important points.

Still eight laps left according to the board. Lewis is clinging to the lead, with Max and George still separated by less than a second. Just as I'm bringing my attention back to defending from Lando, my visor is splattered by dirt from the other side of the tyre barrier.

Someone's crashed.

Tearing off a plastic strip so I can see costs me my concentration. Lando is never distracted by these things, despite his craziness off the track he's absolutely one of the most intimidating people I've ever raced against. Of course he passes me, but I make the position up soon afterwards.

Because it was Max who crashed.

I'm distracted again as I check to make sure he's alright. He stands up after I pass him and kicks a tyre with the full force of his leg. Yellow flags mean no overtaking anyway, and by the time Erik has got him and his kart to safety, there are only three laps to go. Lando is too far ahead, and Daniel is too far behind.

The race ends. Fifth. I squandered my big chance.

At least now I know what my weakness is.