Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

Abu Dhabi, Race Day

"For one final time in 2023, this year's grid line up to battle."

⸻

ABU DHABI
22ND RACE OF THE SEASON
NOVEMBER

The only good of today, is that I'm told to go and get into the driver lineup photo. It's nice, even if I want to cry because I'll have to take off my race suit and go back to normal clothing.

Thankfully, I have Cassandra with me. She helps me change, and talks about anything and everything other than the race. Her boyfriend has been a total dick lately, and she rages on about that. Her dad wants to get a dog, but not a little one, a fucking huge one. She thinks it's stupid. Her uncle has gotten the local non-league team he coaches to their first victory in two seasons.

I hate the silence that falls when she has to leave, for the pre-race routine. It allows doubt to creep into my mind.

Thankfully, someone has the best timing.

LOSER (James);
Meet in the pit lane after recons?

BIGGER LOSER (Me);
Bring chocolate and it's a date.

LOSER (James)
A date? Me? On a date? HELL
YEAH.
Wait. That means Max will beat
the shit out of me.
Fuck.

I meet James half an hour later, and he looks ready to get this season over with. I've heard rumblings of Haas deciding they'll stick to the drivers they have as part of a two-year plan to improve, but this year has been... not that good for them. They may well finish last in the Constructors' Championship.

"What are you up to after the race?" He shouts over the music to our right and the machinery to our left.

"Home. Sleep. More sleep." I'm not telling him the truth. He'll just tease me. "Are you hanging around for the post-season testing?"

"I have to. In the contract." He answers glumly, as we're joined by Fernando, who looks like the weight of the world has just been lifted from his shoulders.

"Anyone for a party on my boat at Monaco?"

"Only if we get to take it in turns piloting." James answers quickly, to the Spaniard's amusement as he walks away, leaving James and I to share a baffled look.

"Was he... serious about the offer?"

James shrugs, raising his hands too. "Beats me. Wouldn't say no to a party in Monaco, though."

We have to part; the siren alerting everyone to the timings has blared. He has to go to the grid, I have to get to the pit wall. Oliver claps the back of my right shoulder as I hop onto the stool and take a look up at the new podium. I hadn't really given it much attention all weekend; it looks very Monza-esque.

"Last race!" Oliver shouts, enthusiasm evident in his voice. "Let's make this a, uh... what's the word you English use...?"

I watch him snap his fingers as he tries to find whatever phrase it is that's refusing to come to mind. After a few seconds, I decide to help out. "A banger? A slam-dunk?"

"That's the one! The first one!"

I try not to laugh at him, pulling on the headset offered to me by Mateo. The grid clears up, and as the engines start to snarl ahead of us, the crowd goes quiet, anticipating the start of the final race of the season. A race I do not get to be in.