Lights Out • 1 • Formula One ✔️

Chapter 118

Please excuse the lack of schedule for this book. I'm just uploading when I can, sorry!

I just wanted to be alone. My texts to Lando and Kudzai were simple enough and thankfully they respected my wishes. Kudzai told me that she informed Lando of my blowup at the driver meeting so that I wouldn't have to. He appeared, like everyone else, pissed at Charles for not keeping things to himself, and he also told me that he'll stay on standby if I do ever need him tonight for any reason. He's such a good friend.

My pillow was all I needed that night and I wished it was socially acceptable to carry it with me everywhere I went the following day. There was little point trying to act like nothing was wrong when I walked through the paddock. The majority of people who knew who I was already know that I'm grieving - thanks, Leclerc. The large sunglasses I wore on my face when walking around the paddock served multiple purposes: block out the sun; hide any puffiness; make it look like I had my shit together. Nothing could hide the permanent frown that seemed to be etched at the corner of my lips, however it did make me appear less approachable so it wasn't a complete loss.

At two in the afternoon on the dot, I was in my race suit, mentally preparing to head out on track for the final practice session of the season. Whilst some of the team appeared to walk on egg-shells around me, Emanuel told me everything straight. He didn't beat around the bush when it came to telling me where I could improve which I was really appreciative of. I want to know that I'm on top of things on-track even when my life off-track seem to be crumbing around me.

T> 'I know I said to take it easy around the track but a 1:40:500 is taking the piss.'

I rolled my eyes behind the visor. On my first flying lap, I had ran into large amounts of traffic so had to hold back on some areas of the track. They knew this, but were obviously just having a joke.

A> 'Still ahead of the Williams.'

T> '*laugh* That's not overly difficult, though, is it?'

A> 'Also beating Esteban.'

T> 'As I said before, not very difficult.'

I found myself smiling in the cockpit as I travelled at speeds of around two hundred miles per hour. I'm for sure going to miss the teasing over the team radio, and Emanuel as my head engineer. All I can do is make him proud while I still can. A win this weekend would mean everything... it's such a shame that there's the chance I'm going to be pitied.

My second time was more reflective of my abilities. I wasn't running the softest form of tyres simply because we were saving them for qualifying which meant that I wasn't pushing as hard as I normally would. A mistake at this point of the weekend would undoubtedly be a cost we simply can't afford to have. All of the top cars apart from the Ferraris were on the same tyre as me which meant our times were comparable. I was running well, only a couple of hundredths down from the top spot. This track always has been one of my best.

I ran for the entire session, only coming in for tyre changes or data checks. Spending so much time on track allowed me to experiment with the lines I took going into a corner, and then as I went out of it. I was testing how much of my car I should put over the apex to give me minimum time just as I had done the day before. The harder tyres had less grip than the softer ones so I had to alter my lines accordingly. All of the information I was collecting from sight and feel would give me an edge in the race tomorrow when I need to push. You can't always be reliant on the numbers.

I didn't want the session to end. Being in the car was the best distraction from thinking about my mum, or Charles, or anything other than racing. My mood seemed to instantly drop without the seatbelts holding me tight in the cockpit.