She sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Sannier. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, and I knew then things had already gone south, but they were about to plummet further.
“Be real with me,” I begged.
“You translated the file. Your relationship with him is at least somewhat known now across the teams. It looks like —” She looked at her feet. “It looks like you faked those records for your boyfriend to stay in the championship.”
Her hands lifted in protest before I could argue. “I’m not saying that’s what happened. But that is what it looks like, Fia.”
“But, you know I wouldn’t—”
“I do,” Livie agreed. “Of course I do. I know the day you met, but… with your parents getting married, it looks like you knew each other a while before he joined. I know that’s not true, and anyone who matters knows that, too. I just have to prove it to the committee.”
“What? Why? He’s out. He can’t race. He—”
“You,” she said firmly. “This isn’t about him anymore, Fia. It’s about you. Your career.”
There was no hiding the tears now. “My… mine? Why mine?”
One of Livie’s tears fell, catching her plump cheek and leaving a track on its slow journey down.
She didn’t answer. She pursed her lips, letting it sink in.
My heart was so deafening, so fast, I looked at Sannier. She had to hear it. She had to rush forward and save me.
Someone had to save me.
I clutched Livie’s arm because I was going to fall.
I’d lost everything.
Everything.
My placement. Any hopes of a job. A career.
I’d lost him.
“Okay,” I managed to choke out. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”
Head down, I dashed through the gossiping bodies in the tunnel. I heard my name before turning corners. Voices lowered as I passed. I tried to build that forcefield again, but I was painfully aware of everything around me. Every step and word and body and stare.
I’d go to the Ciclati pit box the second I grabbed my stuff from my Veltar locker.
Because Dad would fix this.
In Veltar, I used to find the purple and black comforting, not as flashy and bright as the green and red of Ciclati. But now all it screamed was doom and gloom, like a garish Halloween. My own personal horror story.
To make it worse, there was a monster in the back.
Imre and the other mechanic were the only people there. I assumed everyone else was in crisis talks as they figured out what to do about their rogue, disgraced rider.
And a translator.
“What’s wrong?” Imre asked, putting his tool to the side and walking towards me with a deep frown. He looked me up and down as I swiped at my nose, sniffling. “Zsófia.”
“He… I… It’s all fallen apart.”
I fell into his arms, and he stroked my back like he used to when I was little and he’d tell me how hugs cured everything.
Despite the fourteen years since we had any semblance of a relationship, I was right back to being a small, needy child who needed her father.
