The Team // A Formula One AU

Fernando

I would be lying if I said it didn't hurt that there's no way I can win the championship now. I don't know what I was expecting before, but now that it's mathematically impossible it feels different. I lost myself completely after almost finishing on the podium with Seb in the first race, never fully got used to the kart, never got my head around how to set it up. I'm fourteenth in the championship but I may as well be last the way I see it.

But at least I'm enjoying it.

Qualifying goes by in a blur and despite not making it to the second half I feel I put in a decent performance. I go out with a miserable fourteenth place to match my championship position and climb up to the roof to watch my friends battling in Q-Two. Nico went out with me but Seb and Checo are still driving.

"What position did you get?" I ask Nico who kicks his legs beside me.

"Eleventh. I was only a tenth off knocking Checo out."

"Well he's doing okay now, he has a better lap time than Valtteri."

We both squint towards the timing board just as the clock ticks below five minutes. Eight karts are on track with one flying past us every few seconds. The smell of the petrol mixes with the salty ocean on the breeze and my hair wafts around my face as I soak up the atmosphere. I love my life even if I'm not one of the better drivers in the team. What could possibly compare to spending every day on the track with your best friends?

"What you dreaming about, princess?" Nico asks as Lando takes the top spot with a near-perfect lap. He dances in his seat as he brakes into the first corner.

"Just thinking about how great this all is. Do you ever feel like you might have found your place in the world?"

I brace myself to be made fun of but then Nico leans back on his hands with a contented sigh. "I know what you mean. I don't even miss home, to be honest. I could easily stay here for another six races."

"I don't want it to end," I nod, "too bad we have no money."

"Do you seriously think there won't be a second season? Tom's just bluffing so we'll work harder for the media. We'll be back together soon."

"They do seem to love us..."

The little crowd of photographers at the side of the track are mostly engrossed in the drivers, but one of them sees me looking and turns her camera up to photograph us on the roof. I raise my hand in a wave before putting two fingers up behind Nico's head like rabbit ears. He doesn't notice.

"Woah, woah, woah!" he yells.

I swivel my head back to the track where a dust cloud has erupted on the back straight.

"What happened!?"

"I think Esteban just pushed Lance off the track... Lance was on a fast lap and it looked like Esteban deliberately got in the way."

"Are they okay?"

Erik runs down a service road towards the crash with his red flag flying behind him. As the dust begins to settle I watch as he checks on Lance who seems dazed but soon steps out of the kart. Valtteri pulls up on the side of the track and jogs towards the wreckage.

"Looks like they're okay."

The others pull up in the pit lane and line up ready to go back out but with only two minutes left on the clock Tom tells them to park up and turn off their cars. Checo is the first of them to make it to the roof just as Erik walks away from Esteban who is clearly unhurt.

"Did you see what happened?" Checo asks as he rests a hand on each of our shoulders and leans forward in the direction of the dust.

"It looked like dangerous driving," Nico says. "He could be banned for that."

"Who, Esteban or Valtteri?"

"What? Valtteri wasn't involved in–"

I almost fall off the roof as Esteban pushes Valtteri backwards into the tyre barrier. Their yelling is just about audible over the last engines being turned of and Erik turns around from tending to Lance, distracted by the commotion.

Valtteri stands up straight and strides menacingly back towards Esteban, opening his arms as if inviting him to a fight. Checo grips my shoulder as Esteban balls his fist and throws it at Valtteri who sidesteps and pulls the other boy past him and into the barrier himself.

"You're going to kill someone one day!" Valtteri shouts. "You're crazy!"

Erik steps between them as Esteban gets to his feet and I turn to look at the journalists who obviously captured the scene. That won't go down very well with the sponsors. The woman from before turns her lens back to us and I grab my friends' arms.

"We need to get out of here. Let's go and get changed."

Things are deathly tense in the changing room. Pierre and Charles are speaking French and recreating the crash with their hands while Lewis is wondering out loud what tomorrow's grid will look like if there are any penalties. Eventually we hear the broken karts being brought in on a trailer and the distant voice of Tom speaking to Erik who is shouting about the fight.

"Come here, there's a gap in the door," Max murmurs and beckons the rest of us to see.

"That's not very good for a changing room," Mick comments as I crouch to the floor to get a proper view.

"One time when I was racing in Italy–"

"Shh, they're talking..."

"Are you alright, Lance?" Tom asks in the distance. The trailer drives away and we start to hear the conversation much better.

"Yeah, I just got a bit shaken up."

"Okay, we'll look you over a little later. What about you Valtteri? Esteban? Are you both okay after your little sparring match?"

They nod, Valtteri still looking angry while Esteban just sulks.

"What makes you think it's okay to start a fight with your teammate?"

"I was defending myself. And Lance," Valtteri speaks in a low voice, never letting his hand leave his friend's shoulder. Tom glances at Erik and runs his hand through his hair.

"No more fighting. You're both on your last warning, one more mistake and you're finished. You're going to clean the bus tonight, one of you do the outside and one of you do the inside. Esteban will have a five-place grid penalty for dangerous driving. Got it?"

The boys nod solemnly.

"Good. Now go get changed."

I scramble away from the door as they turn towards us and we all try our best to act natural. I don't look up as they walk in but I have to move aside when Esteban storms past me to his locker. He's radiating rage.

"Hurry up, lads," Weird Old Phil snaps. "The bus is leaving in ten minutes."

I zip my bag closed and tap Nico on the shoulder, collecting Checo and Seb as we try to get out of there as quickly as possible. I'm glad someone finally put Esteban in his place, but I feel so sorry for Lance. He doesn't deserve any of this, and I don't think Valtteri deserves this much punishment. As I jump up the steps onto the bus though, I smell the air and do feel grateful someone is finally going to clean it.