“You’re sure you want to bet when you’re so far down the pecking order?” I joked.
“I have come from fourth place to first place in my lifetime,Teodoro. You don’t have to worry about me.” Sebastian swung one of his long arms around my shoulder and pulled me tighter to his body. “I would be more worried about losing your place, little speed demon.”
“Stop trying to psych me out! What bet are you proposing?”
“Simple,” he said. “Nothing too drastic. Whoever loses owes the other a dinner at the restaurant of their choice this week.”
“That’s all?” I asked.
“That’s all. Let’s start this year easy.”
“And you’re sure you’re not just saying that because I’ve got a better chance of winning? I’m sure if you were starting in first place the bet would be to streak naked across the track.”
Sebastian leaned in so that his lips were almost touching my ear, and I felt goosebumps rise across my neck as his breath tickled me. “Don’t give me any ideas,Teodoro.”
The formation lap was my least favourite part of any race. A quick circuit around the track to warm up the tyres and get ready with none of the excitement of the actual race. No overtaking. No adrenaline. It just boosted my nerves by a thousand percent. But as I pulled into my space in the front row next to British Racing’s Max Burnham, I felt those nerves start to drop and my training kick in. I was a racer. I was the fastest racer on this damn track, and I was younger than Max by over fifteen years. I should beable to ace his reaction time at the start of the race, get out ahead — and hopefully stay ahead.
Slowly, the five lights ahead lit up. I kept my foot just below the bite on the clutch and revved the accelerator, ready to go as soon as those lights turned off…
I wondered how Sebastian was feeling. Was he actually confident he could fight his way from fourth to first over the next few laps? Did he think he could beat me? Did he-
Shit. The lights had changed, and I was not quick enough. Max got off to a faster start, and I floored the accelerator to try to keep up with him and keep the two drivers behind me — Sebastian and my own teammate, Graham — at bay.
As we approached the first corner, Max had the speed advantage and I knew I couldn’t overtake, so I hung back rather than trying to take him wide. I knew I was capable of overtaking at some point. But I had to choose my moment. And right now, with Sebastian inching up past my flank, I needed to defend.
As we came out of the corner, I floored it a little early. It was a risky move on wet track, and the car’s tyres skidded. But that was enough to scare Sebastian and have him drop back. Neither of us wanted to get taken out again, but I was the one with the balls to threaten the possibility.
Due to the rain and the narrowness of some of the street tracks, I knew I would be bored shitless if I’d been watching at home. It was hard to get the traction to overtake, and everyone was being cautious around corners. So when the rain sputtered to a stop and the sun started shining, I knew things were about to get interesting. It was only two laps later that the track started to dry out, and we could choose whether to pit and move on to better tyres.
“How far ahead is Max?” I asked into my comms.
“Six seconds.”
“Are we boxing? Should I pull into the pit?”
“Negative. Let’s let their strategy play out, and decide if we want to pit then.”
Pit stops were risky business. Having to slow down in the pit lane and then stop for tyres meant losing as much as twenty-five seconds of pace. If everyone pitted, then that left everyone pretty much even on timings, and order would be restored. But as the race had started with rain, there was no requirement for a mandatory pit stop. But if Max pitted and came out on dry tyres, he would drop behind me. With dry tyres on, he might just catch up again against the grippier and slower wet weather tyres.
I couldn’t gain on Max, and was eight seconds behind him when he swerved into the pit lane.
“We weren’t expecting that, his team has played a blinder. Let’s see if we can hold out and gain some valuable time.”
I was at the front of the pack now, and Sebastian and Graham were hot on my heels. With the clean air ahead, I sped up as much as I could. I kept an ear out on my comms.
“Max has come out in fourth. Twenty seconds behind. Gaining fast, expect a battle in a few laps.”
“So should I be pitting to take the fight to him?” I growled in frustration.
“Negative. If we fall behind there’s no guarantee of overtaking. Second is better than fifth, Theo.” My racing manager sounded as frustrated as I was, but there was no fixing it. The only thing we could hope for was more rain to make Max slip up, or for someone to crash out and bring in a safety car. Under the safety car, I could pit without losing so much time. But in dry weather with most of the racers still on wet-grip tyres, there was very little chance of that happening.
A quick glance in my mirrors showed that despite his speed, Max was having trouble getting past Graham in third. That was the thing about Moto 1, it was both an individual and team sport. If Graham and I were fighting or first place, the team principalwould let us fight it out. As it was, with me out so far ahead, someone must have relayed into his ear to keep it that way for the good of the team. So he was using as many legal evasive manoeuvres to keep Max behind him.
“Max is now seventeen seconds behind.”
“So can I pit now? If we can keep it under twenty seconds I have a chance…”
For a second, there was radio silence. And then came the reply.“Negative, Theo. Stick to the strategy.”
