⌞ the chain ⌝

⌞ twenty-two : dog fights ⌝

"Get 'em down and don't take your foot off that pedal."

_

"Okay Lu, radio check."

"Will I get a penalty if I say a cuss word?"

I heard him laugh from the other side of the mic. "Loud and clear, kid."

I nodded as if he could see me but knew I only had moments before those lights went out. My necklace wasn't there for me to touch but I knew I would be fine. Jules was with me and this was my race. The track was clear in my mind and my first focus needed to be on the first turn. I didn't know who was P2. I wanted to assume it was George from the conversations we had yesterday, but I knew whoever it was would fake out. Lando would try to hold the inside which would probably push track limits and Wright. Wright would be my target.

I put my eyes back on the lights, every single nerve in my body holding still as I watched the lights count down. When they flashed, I was off. My focus was on Lando. If I did it right, I could gain a position before the first straight. Zak wouldn't be happy about it but that's not what this was, I wanted to win.

I came into the turn, taking the wider line. And I was right, Lando pushed track limits and the out of the turn gave me just enough space to pass him.

"That's not what I was wanting into turn one but not bad."

"Trust me, Damon."

I heard a snort and then radio silence. I was in P3 and my focus needed to be on holding that. There were still laps to go and I was playing the long game. I needed to focus on everything. This wasn't just ten laps, this was war. A battle could easily be won. This needed strategy and good thing I hadn't ever planned on losing.

_

"Lu? Box."

I groaned. "No, no. The tyres will hold."

"I love the energy but they won't. Box."

I hit my steering wheel but moved so I could hit the pitlane. I sat there, shaking with anxiety before I got the all-clear. I sped out of the pitlane, making sure I didn't break the limit. I could see George ahead of me and Lando was coming behind. If I lost my position, I was going to be saying some not-nice words to people. But as I pulled out, I got ahead of Lando by just a split second.

"You and I will be having words about that."

"Copy. Gap to Wright is 1.2."

I only had about fifteen laps left and I needed to catch him. George was playing a good defense and part of me wanted to just pull an illegal move to get around him. I could imagine Seb laughing at me and realized that maybe this wasn't the time to be a menace. I needed to win fair and square. Strategy. This was different than street racing.

12 laps.

George was still ahead of me but I closed the gap between us by about 0.2 seconds. I was kinda impressed by his skill in defending. If I wasn't wanting to pass him, I could have complimented him about it but right now, he was in my way and I was getting pissed off.

"Damon, please tell me that I have clearance to do what I need."

"No illegal moves, but do what you gotta do."

I nodded and pushed a gear up. It was stupid to go this fast into a turn but I knew George would fake it and gas out. If I get ahead of him before the other end of the curve, I would be fine. And he did exactly what I knew he would. My nose came out ahead and I gunned it to the straight.

"Fuck yeah, let's go."

I was happy I'd made sure to turn my radio off, I didn't need to get in trouble and lose time. Winning came first.

9 laps.

"Gap to Wright, 0.92."

"Copy."

That little fucker was going to learn what it meant to be schooled and so help me god, I would feel good doing it. I kicked a gear up and worked on closing the gap as much as I could before the turn. We crossed the line and I pushed, knowing that if I played it right my nose would be ahead before the next straight but he knew what was coming and took my usual route into the turn.

Fuck. I braked so our wheels didn't touch.

"Damon."

"It's clear, just stay safe. He likes to drive dirty."

"I can see that."

I gritted my teeth and pushed forward. I wasn't about to lose to some British asshole.

5 laps.

He was still ahead of me and that gap wasn't closing, but it wasn't growing either. This was a sense of pure rage that I'd never felt before. He deserved to know what it felt like to lose. Maybe it would break that ego of his and he would learn what it meant to actually be a sportsman like racer but the way this was going, it didn't seem like it.

I had to give it up to him, he was fast and though he drove dirty, he was smart about it. He toed the line of what was and wasn't illegal. Someone who had sat down and read every single rule the FIA put out. And some part of me respected him for it. Smart drivers knew how to work around the rules and here he was. He wasn't leading the championship for no reason. This was a game of chess where only he knew the rules.

Last lap.

I could do it. So help me god, I could do it. The gap was closer now and I could feel the car pick up with DRS. There it was, the last straight. Why was it always the last straight? I didn't have time to chuckle as I pressed as hard as I could. My body was pressed against the seat and I could feel the wind rushing past me as I fought to get ahead.

I thought of my brother who had gone on to win his race this weekend. Charlie wasn't watching this, and that was if he even knew that I was racing. But this was for him too. I was proving that we were equal. I thought of Jules who was sitting wherever he was, cheering for me so loud that the heavens probably shook. I thought of my fathers who were racing somewhere else and maybe they'd finished. Maybe they were all sitting together watching me, holding their breaths as I inched forward and forward, praying it would be enough to pull through.

I thought about my mother and wondered what she would think of me. If she would be proud of the person I became. That I was stronger than her, that I found a way to push toward my dreams and away from the man who trapped me. I thought about my father who never saw the potential I had because I wasn't my brothers and the fact that I was proving him wrong with every second closer to the line.

And I thought about the little girl who sat with Jules, praying on every shooting star that she would stand on that podium. Who would raise that trophy high and scream to the heavens that she was worth it. Because she was. And she was smiling down on me as that flag fell, Wright in my mirrors.

"Eilulia Bianchi-Leclerc, you've just won your first race."

But I could barely hear him over my own screams of excitement. I'd done it. Not only to prove that jackass wrong but to prove all of them wrong and to prove to all of those who devoted their time and effort to me that it was worth it. I'd won.

I'd won.

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a/n: hehehehe she did it. was it probably better to have her go P2 as a learning moment? yeah, probably. but fuck that. it's mine and i say she won. so as always, love it or don't :p