Love, Olive - c.l

four

"Are you ready?" Fred asks me.

I look blankly at the car, examining all of its flaws and perfections. As an Australian, McLaren had never been a team I had my sights on.

Bruce McLaren, a Kiwi, was the founder after all, and there had been friendly Rivalries between us and the New Zealanders over the ditch.

We always won though.

"Olive?" Fred asks again, growing impatient with me.

I snap out of my daze and look away from the magnificent car in front of me.

"As ready as I can be," I say and shrug, looking back at the papaya car.

"It is your first ever qualifying, you may surprise yourself," Fred says, optimism in his voice.

I scoff and shake my head. As if.

"Did you see my practice results? They could not have been any worse."

"No, No, No." He begins, voice firm and German accent thick, "Negativity, is the enemy. Positiv Einstellung, mein Mädchen!

(Positive mindset, my girl!)

"I have no clue what you said and don't know if I want to know." I chuckle, eyes not leaving the car.

The number seven was etched on it. I was born on the seventh of September, so it just felt right. I was unsure whether to take it or not, as it was Kimi's number, but numbers have been reused before.

I begin to zip up my race suit and pull my balaclava over my face. I was once again, nervous.

This had been a weekend of firsts for me.

I slide my helmet on top of my head and take a deep breath.

I shimmy inside the car from overtop of the Halo and feel overjoyed to be sitting in a McLaren car. I had been sitting in one mere hours ago, but the excitement hadn't worn off yet.

I manoeuvre the car to the exit of the pit lane before I am given the all-clear to slide onto the track.

I speed along the pit lane, but not as fast as I do on the track. I head straight into turn 1, taking the hard right and staying on the track.

These weren't flying laps, just getting into the rhythm.

"How does the car feel, Olive?" I hear Fred ask me over the radio.

"Great. It feels good"

"That's good. After this lap, try to set a flying lap. The goal is to get into Q2."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I say, approaching turn 4.

I take the lap slow and steady, gliding around the track with ease. It felt easier than it had earlier today.

I Glide around turn 15, at the end of the track, and put my foot down. I feel it touch the floor and know I'm off.

"Good luck, Olive."

"Thank you, Friedrich."

I brake for turn 1, and speed around it, hitting the funny corners in turns 2 and 3.

I hit the apex on the straight towards turn 4, a big sweeping corner.

I see car 55 in front of me and recognise it to be Carlos Sainz, the Ferrari driver.

He must have seen me in his rear-view mirror, so he moves out of the way as I swiftly take turn 4.

I power down the curved straight, barrelling into turn 5.