Somewhere between Turns 5 and 6, I realized I had stopped breathing again.I exhaled slowly, dragging air back through gritted teeth, into my burning lungs, just the way a sports psychologist had told me to years ago.
The sort of breathing I’d watched my sister do to quell her anxiety.
Breathe.One.Two.Three.Four.Out.
Except the breathing wasn’t doing shit.My hands continued to shake against the wheel, and I missed another key corner.
“More push this lap,” Michael said in my ear.“Find your marks.No heroics.”
I grumbled something unintelligible back into the radio.Michael, to his credit, ignored me.I started the lap, forcing the throttle earlier, trying to be brave in Turn 1, but I overdid it.Too much commitment on entry, too hesitant on exit.It all felt wrong.
Again, I forced myself to inhale deeply, to focus on the windy, wet road ahead instead of the chaos rolling around in my head.The next turn approached.My right foot hovered over the brake pedal, judging the moment.
Wait.
Wait.
Now!
And then, at the last second, something inside me hesitated.Some primal part of my brain that, heading into the barrier, remembered the sound of my tires straining on the gravel.
And that hesitation cost me.
I clipped the inside curb too aggressively, trying to make up for the late entry.The car jolted sideways, and pure instinct made me overcorrect.My hands yanked the wheel right.
The rear spun out, and suddenly I was half a lane wide, cutting across the racing line at completely the wrong angle.
No, no, no…
For a heartbeat that stretched into eternity, I froze.My hands locked on the wheel, my brain screaming commands my body couldn’t process.
In the mirror, a flash of black and silver appeared.
Lily.Her Rennen livery caught me completely off-guard.She was right there, closing fast on a flying lap of her own.
“I’m going to hit her.Oh god, I’m going to—” The words tore out of me.
She reacted instantly, her reflexes sharper than mine in that critical moment.Her foot came off the throttle, lifting just enough to slow.The black-and-silver Rennen darted to the outside, taking the long way around, giving us both room even though I’d left her none.
Controlled and composed.Exactly as we’d all been trained to be since our first days in karting.
The whole sequence had lasted maybe two heartbeats.Two heartbeats where I’d almost repeated Miami’s incident, except this time it would have been my fault.Unquestionably, undeniably mine.
But she’d saved us both.
Her sleek, black car disappeared around the next corner, carrying away with it whatever remained of my pride.
“Henri!”Michael’s voice sliced through the static, filled with worry.“You okay?”
The concern in his tone made something twist in my gut; made the heat of embarrassment crawl up my neck.
Say something.Answer him.
My pulse pounded behind my eyes, and I couldn’t seem to press the radio button.Couldn’t make my fingers move to that small switch on the steering wheel.
Frozen.You’re frozen again, just like—
“Henri,” Michael said again, softer this time.Not angry, just worried.That worry was somehow worse than anger would have been.
