Misscommunication||LANDO NORRIS

1

commentary

"And that's Lizzie Jones for P3 on her debut Formula 1 race! I repeat, P3! Just 22 years old, the first female Ferrari driver in history has made a podium on her FIRST EVER race. Miami 2024. Write it down. The crowd is going insane—red flags in the air, red caps flying, people sobbing. Lizzie Jones has ARRIVED."

Lizzie Jones-

his has to be a prank. A fever dream. Someone is going to walk up any second with a camera and say, "This was all a social experiment." But no. My team manager is screaming in my ear like I just discovered world peace.

"LIZ YOU DID IT!" he yells, and I think I just lost hearing in one ear. Worth it. I'm sat in the car, in literal shock. My hands are still gripping the steering wheel like I'm bracing for the car to explode.

"The order is Norris, Leclerc, and yourself."

And I can hear the smile on Fred's face. The man has never smiled in public a day in his life. This is groundbreaking. National holiday-worthy. "Fred Vasseur smiled" day. I scream. Like, full out, no-thoughts-head-empty, feral scream.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

How did this happen? I mean, people were skeptical. "Oh Lizzie, you're just a pretty face." "Oh Lizzie, you're a diversity hire." "Oh Lizzie, do you even know what DRS is?" — First of all, yes I do. Second of all, choke. I just did the impossible. A podium. At my first. Ever. Race. I hop out of the car, helmet off, braids down, adrenaline peaking. Immediately, I'm flashbanged by paparazzi lights. I strike a quick pose because, duh. Never waste a photo op when you're glowing with sweat and world domination. Then I'm suddenly thrown into a hug.

"You are AMAZING," Charles says in my ear, squeezing me like I'm his childhood teddy bear and he's missed me for ten years. It's oddly wholesome. Man smells like soap and world-class disappointment. Very French of him.

"CHARLES I—WHAT IS LIFE."
I'm crying. Like actually. Tears on the visor. I'm snotty, sweaty, and borderline hysterical. Hot girl breakdown moment. Paparazzi, you better frame these.

"Lizzie, are you crying right now?" he laughs, and I punch him in the chest lightly, which is my love language. He laughs harder. Bastard.

We make our way to the team—who immediately launch me into the air like I'm Simba on Pride Rock. Everyone's chanting my name. I spot Charles under me grinning like a proud dad. Weird but kind of cute. We make our way to the podium. Classic Ferrari chaos. As we climb up the stairs, Lando's already up there—and as soon as he spots us? He scoffs. Visibly. Audibly. Does a full 360 to talk to his PR manager. And just like that, my vibe is ruined.

Let me explain the trauma that is Lando Norris. We grew up together. Same school. Same karting team. Shared P.E. kits and trauma. He was the annoying nerd who only talked about aerodynamics. I was the girl who once skipped a karting session to get her eyebrows threaded. It was never meant to work. We were on good terms until one night it all fell apart, we said all the things we were holding back from the past 16 years of knowing each other, and after that we never spoke again-not like we used to. It's all insults and threats all the time whenever we see each other.

And now here we are. Fake-smiling on a podium, the tension between us thick enough to slice with a Ferrari front wing. Kate, my best friend and on-the-side-PR manager, shakes me violently.

"LIZZIE. Big smile. You are iconic. You are mother. You are the moment. You are—"

"—under so much pressure I might die."

She cackles, gives me a squeeze, and pushes me on stage. Cue the crowd going mental. People throwing Ferrari flags. I catch a glimpse of someone crying in a handmade Lizzie t-shirt. Oh god. I'm someone's idol now. Who allowed this?

I step onto the P3 podium, praying I don't trip and give the Daily Mail something to feast on. I take the trophy. It's bronze and shaped like the Miami circuit.

Then—

I feel eyes. His eyes.

Lando is burning holes into my skull with his death glare. His trophy is already on the floor like it personally offended him.

Before I can start mentally manifesting his downfall, Charles yells:

"LIZZIE!" and pops his champagne right at me. Sticky bubbly covers my fireproofs. I retaliate, and it turns into a full-on Prosecco war. I chase him around until—

Suddenly, I feel champagne trickle down my back. Someone poured it.

I turn slowly, like a horror movie protagonist, and of course—it's him.

Lando.

Smirking like he just got the last word.

He leans in.

"Congrats," he says lowly, and walks away.

That's it. No smile. No hug. Just a drive-by champagne splash and a single congrats with the emotional depth of a teaspoon.

I'm left standing there like a wet chihuahua with abandonment issues.

Lando Norris

follow her off stage. She's walking away laughing with Charles, her braid dripping champagne, her cheeks flushed from the excitement. I should be happy. P1. The trophy. The win. But all I can think is—why does this feel like a loss? I don't even remember how I got through the champagne bit. I vaguely remember dumping mine on her head. Passive-aggressive? Sure. I walk into McLaren, Oscar at my side. Everyone's congratulating me but I just want silence. I barely hear them. My heart's still up on that stage. As soon as I reach the drivers' room, I shut the door behind me and slide down to the floor. I stare at the trophy. It means nothing. Because she's got them. The headlines. The fans. The moment. And all I've got is a stupid grudge and champagne-soaked regrets.

Theres maybe 5 more hours until we all hit the club, but theres strategy meetings, marketing meetings, manager meetings. All of which i will fall asleep in due to the amount of boredom they will bring. Its just the same old news- no more alcohol (they wish), stop fucking around (tell that to the models in my DMs) and the classic- drive faster (mate you try driving and F1 car and then tell me again). I close my eyes and about 5 minutes later i hear oscars voice calling me for the meeting. I groan while standing up, then slowly drag myself to the painful meetings.

REMEMBER TO VOTE AND COMMENT
Pt 1 done😱