Against You

Encouragement

Oscar POV

The main result of media day is that my entire body is aching and I'm ready to jump on a plane home without even competing in the race. It's obvious that things are not going well. The team is rotting from inside because of me and Lando, Ferrari are biting at our heels and catching us in the championship, and it doesn't seem like anything will change soon. I told myself I would go easy on Lando after the meeting with Zak Brown, and for the sake of my race seat I really should, but how can I stand by and do nothing?

When the sun is setting fiery orange I step out for a walk around the hotel grounds: a few rolling hills of quiet forest. The branches cast cool shadows so I layer up with a hoodie, which also protects against the evening mosquitoes.

The walk helps to clear my mind. My white trainers beat rhythmically against the dusty path. Nobody bothers me except a couple of dog walkers and the birdsong and dappled shade help my psyche no end. I could almost forget I'm an F1 driver and that so many people are relying on me. I could just be a tourist, lost in the forest with nothing to rush back for.

By the time I reach the far end of the grounds the sun has almost set. The mosquitoes are becoming almost unbearable so I raise my hood and pull the cords tight around my face. I turn around at the end of the path and jump a couple of times on the spot. My legs are restless. My nervous energy is coming back.

I run all the way back to the hotel, and it's exactly what my exhausted mind needed.

I pant as I enter the hotel, but I'm grinning from ear to ear. Nobody can touch me when I'm running. No worries can catch me and no responsibilities can call me. I breathe deeply as I navigate the hotel and on the final corridor before my room I run into Grace.

"Oscar," she stops me, a stern look on her face. My chest tightens as my grin fades. Conversations with Grace have the potential to go one of two ways: Humiliating media challenge or cathartic Lando slander.

"Hey, Grace."

"What was that today? You just rolled over and died for Lando Norris."

My eyebrows tighten as I study her. Is she angry at me?

"I didn't. I just didn't want to stoop down to his level."

"But you could have at least put up a fight! Do you know how stupid that all looks on camera?"

"You're blaming me that your stupid race didn't work out?"

"Yes!" Grace yells. "You're letting him ruin everything, he's walking all over you! He's ruling the championship and he's ruling your mind!"

My heart rate rises and I take a step towards her. "How can you say that to me?" I return. "You don't know what it's like, you don't know the pressure I'm under. I don't only have Lando to compete with you know."

"Who else is there?" Grace snarls. "You're the best hope to beat him, you have the same machinery, why can't you win? You don't believe in yourself, that's why. You don't—"

"You don't know anything about me!" I cut her off. "So stop pretending you do. You can't comment on my self-belief, you can't criticise my work ethic. Who are you, some rich university graduate who waltzed into her first job through family connections? I worked hard all my life, from the age of seven, to be where I am today."

Grace stares at me, frustrated tears in her eyes. I don't understand why she's so upset. Why does my performance matter to her so much? Yes, I could be performing better. But it isn't for her, an irrelevant media manager, to tell me that.

"Is it against the law to want the best for you?" Grace asks, playing the guilt card and folding her arms.

"I never asked for your support. And I don't need what you're giving me. You're so negative, you never build me up. All you ever do is tear others down."