It’ll be a yellow flag, possibly red flag. The track’s a state. Tom’s stopped at the foot of the debris, a line of competitors forming behind him. At the sight of that Martinelli, my blood boils.
Pagari has two DNFs.
Tom will win the Brazilian Grand Prix.
All because of Micah Adetunji.
He’d ratherTom Webberwins than me. I clamber out, my hands itching to pummel and squeeze and break, but I’m not stupid enough to do anything here. I sit well away from him on the wall and focus on the track clearing while I wait for the scooter of shame, my hands clenching and unclenching behind my back.
I wonder how Minnie’s taking it. From the state of my car, it probably looked worse than it was. Gallingly, Micah’s looks pretty intact.
A safety car leads the pack around the circuit. From down here, it looks fast – what a joke. Flashes of green, navy, silver, green, purple, and ice-blue pass me, and finally, the fluorescent yellow of the only DFK who made it through the opening lap.
I think I’m in shock. Four races to go and I’m sitting on the wall when I should be on lap forty-six. If I’d won today, I’d have clinched the Championship in the next race. Now I’m stuck with zero points.
Two scooters pick us up, thank god, and I’m petty enough to enjoy that mine leaves first. Lorenzo’s waiting on my side of the garage when I get back to the pits. Georgie’s behind him, her headphones circling her like a necklace.
‘Ragazzo mio. I’m sorry,’ Lorenzo says, wrapping me in a fierce hug. He leans close to whisper in my ear, no doubt angling his head away from the cameras. ‘Don’t worry, he’s fired.’
Relief doesn’t course through me like it would’ve two hours ago. I don’t feel anything. The only thing I care about are the standings, and I’m petrified Micah’s just cost us all our chance. Why couldn’t he have justdonehisjob? We didn’t just lose forty-three points – we handed them to Martinelli on a silver platter.
‘Where do we place after this?’ I ask, drawing away.
‘If Tom and Étienne make it to the chequered flag as they are, Tom will overtake Micah at three-hundred and twenty-five points. Étienne’s forty behind him.’
‘So Tom’s sixty-three points behind me?’
Lorenzo nods slowly. All’s not lost yet. That’s closer than last year, but not as close as the year before. It’s doable if I don’t put a foot wrong in the upcoming races. There was intense pressure before, but now… it’s blinding. Two years ago, I had no precedent for winning a World Championship. Now, I have a title to defend. I’m paid more, our sponsors pay more, Pagari expects more.
‘And the constructors?’ I ask.
Lorenzo looks older than I’ve ever seen him. ‘They’re six points behind.’
Fuuuuuck.
Lorenzo will have no problem finding a new driver – there are some sick juniors in the development programme, and a couple of seasoned free agents too – but if Lorenzo had spotted a driver as good as Micah, he would’ve replaced him months ago. And no matter how skilled a driver is, it’ll be a miracle if they can acclimatise at this critical point in the season.
It’s up to me to win this, both for me and my team. If Las Vegas and Qatar are note-perfect, there’s a chance I can win the Drivers’ Championship in Qatar. I can do this.
Ihaveto do this.
Chapter 46
MINNIE
I’m really trying to stop replaying the crash in my head, but it doesn’t help when every time Krunal opens his mouth to ask a question in our post-race segment, we’re getting closer and closer to him broaching the Pagari incident.
Jack’s ok – he called before the press conference – but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t excruciating to watch. I knew something was going to happen. Micah had been a knob with everyone the whole race, but I didn’t know it would come to a head with Jack.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. Micah set up the dummy, Jack fell for it. Micah dove into the open space, Jack blocked a millisecond late. Micah ploughed into the back of him, sending Jack spinning into the barrier while Micah’s steering locked up and he cruised to a halt in a spray of sparks. The contact was obviously an accident on Micah’s part, but that didn’t make it any less horrifying.
I thought I was going to pass out in the middle of the media centre when the camera lingered on the two Pagaris, and Micah’s helmet moved and Jack’s didn’t. As crashes go, it was pretty tame, but there was still ample room for neck damage or concussion. Christ do I wish I could get a massage during races like Mum used to do.
‘We’ve spoken about the winners today, but how about the losers,’ Krunal says, breaking my train of thought. My stomach drops ten storeys. Why can’t we still be in our We Don’t Talk About Pagari era?! ‘Where tobegin! Never have I seen such a dominant team be so humbled. Whose fault even was it?’
Wait, what? How is that a question? Micah ran into the back of Jack. There’s nothing he could’ve done!
‘Great question,’ says Brian. ‘It was a risky move from Micah that didn’t pay off, and Jack was too late defending. The FIA officially ruled it a racing incident, but that’s debateable.’
