‘Thank you, Dar.’ I can hear the happiness in his voice.
‘Well, then, all three of you better come over sometime,’ I prod him, trying my best to sound more upbeat than I feel. Maybe it makes me a terrible friend to say it, but man … this news has me all up in my own head.
‘You said it.’ Manuel winks and rolls over to his tool stand. ‘Are you guys going to see Teresópolis when you go back?Pleasetake good photos if you’re there. Ness loves that Paquetá guy.’
‘Yeah.’ The nostalgia fills me like a can of my favourite cold, fizzy Guaraná. ‘It’s been a pretty long time.’
For the most part, my early memories of Brazil were nonexistent leading up to Pai’s death, save for bits and pieces. But I remember my whole family piling into a minivan anddriving the nearly two hours to Teresópolis. The place was pretty, lots to see and do, nature and hiking if you were into it. However, it was also home to Granja Comary, the training facility of Brazil’s national football team, the stomping ground of the CBF, the Brazilian Football Confederation. I remember looking up at Granja Comary, with its big lawn bearing the shield of the national team, gated and unreachable. It looked like some kind of top-secret police headquarters, or a military fort. Four-year-old me, dreaming the dreams of every Brazilian kid, thought to myself,Dang, I’ll make it up there some day.
That was my first and only time in Teresópolis, but I think about it often. Now, it’s no longer about visions of going pro in football, it’s about what it means to be at the very pinnacle of your sport. And after years and years of work, it’s crazy to think I’ve finally reached the motorsport equivalent: Formula 1.
‘You think they’d let you into Granja Comary?’ Manuel echoes my thoughts.
I grab my spray gun. ‘I could call in a favour from the guys.’
‘The guys …’ Now it’s my friend’s jaw that goes slack. ‘Bro. That’s crazy.A seleção?’The team?
‘Just maybe.’
‘Getout,’ hisses Manuel. ‘I should be asking you to get Ness a signed jersey or a voice message or something!’
‘I will!’ I say with a laugh. ‘You know I will!’
‘God.’ Manuel is still reeling as he begins to take a look at the engine. ‘Getting into Granja Comary … imagine training there … and thefood…’
His musings make me chuckle. I load up the black paint for my spray gun and don my safety goggles and mask.
‘Or how about a Granja Comary of your own. For driving and karting, big track all around the whole thing.’ Manuel isreally getting into it now. He looks like he’s just had an earth-shaking vision, a dreamy look all over his face. He is so much sometimes.
‘Now that,’ I snort, ‘is crazy.’
Chapter Two
Shantal
Istare down at my suitcase blankly. It’s as if I’ve got an undeserved pile of riches before me. Stolen, perhaps, a luxury I didn’t earn.
This isn’t right.
The last time I had taken a plane was with my mother and father, to Georgetown, Guyana. It had not been a happy trip, but it was what was right for Sonia, at least according to thepandit. Going home to spread the ashes was the only way to grant her soul peace. I tried my best to assure myself the trip was necessary, but even that felt wrong without her there next to me.
‘Soni,’ I whisper, ‘I can’t do this.’
I sit down on the side of my bed and rake my hands through the remains of my hair. It’s been over six months since I chopped most of it off in our upstairs bathroom, right after we got back from Georgetown, but I’m still not used to it. I had hair down past my waist before, grew it out because Sonia did,and I wanted to bejust like her. Now, the waves just skim my shoulders.
Ma hated it. She let out a strangled scream when I came out of the bathroom. ‘Shanni, what in the—’
‘I had to,’ I replied shortly. We didn’t talk about it after that. Babu saw and looked at me sadly. He had never been one to yell.
I pick up my phone and scroll till I find my mother in my contacts. The photo of Sonia on my desk stares at me as I hit call and the dial tone drones.
‘Hi, Shantal?’
‘Ma, I just … I can’t go.’
‘What? No.’ There is scolding in her voice. Maybe Babu never yells, but my ma, as wonderful as she is, makes up for this threefold. ‘This is so big. Don’t joke with me.’
‘Not without her, Ma,’ I manage.
