Or so everyone liked to tell me.
Sitting in the cockpit of your car during a race probably isn’t the time to be having this debate, I argued internally.
“Lily, we’re seeing more rain in sector two,” my engineer’s voice crackled through the headset, sounding almost bored, which pretty much described Mark to a tee.He had beautiful blond curly hair that sort of radiated sunshine, but his demeanor rivaled that of a stern primary-school teacher ready to lecture at a moment’s notice.“It’s getting heavier.Box this lap for new tires.”
I clicked the radio.“Are you sure?Feels too early.”Changing tires to inters when the track was only a little damp could be disastrous for my race.
“Box, box,” was all Mark said back.
Heavier drops hit my visor as I backed off the throttle, approaching the pit entry.The pit crew swarmed the car the instant I stopped in the box, and two and a half seconds later, I was released back onto the track, tires ready to deal with the rain beneath me.I just needed to survive another twenty laps.
Fortunately for us, the tire change had worked perfectly.Within three laps, I was picking off cars and going up the positions.The rain intensified, exactly as predicted, and suddenly the order reshuffled in my favor.By lap thirty-two, I was P6, which was great considering I’d started P12.Since I had qualified so poorly, scoring points would feel like a victory.And with the way I was driving, there was even a possibility for a podium.
Rain truly was the great equalizer.
“This is good, Lil.Keep pushing.We think the rain should stop in ten minutes.”Mark only called me Lil when he was pleased, Lily when he felt neutral about my performance, and then the worst,Lillian Blackwood, when he felt as though he’d ended up with the short end of the stick by becoming my racing engineer.
After last week’s Grand Prix, there’d been a bit too muchLillian Blackwood.I grinned inside the helmet.“Good” was an understatement.These were laps meant to win the race.
Another near-perfect lap went by.Considering it was raining, this was the pace we wanted—the pace weneededif we were going to get a podium in Miami.The car felt alive beneath me.The rain, and that earlier tire change, was working, allowing me to easily pass the cars in front.
“Take that!”I screamed into the air, the words swallowed by the loud roar of my engine.With a win in Miami, we would—
Without warning, the wheel twitched in my hands.Just a shudder, which I chose to ignore, as my hands tightened around the wheel grip.
Probably nothing.
Then it happened again, harder this time.
“Something’s wrong.”I wasn’t sure if I’d remembered to press the radio button.The wheel felt different, like there was a disconnect between my inputs and the car’s response.The car snapped right, then left, fighting me like she had decided we weren’t on the same team anymore.The sensation was immediate and horrifying, like the wheel had suddenly become a decoration, disconnected from the car entirely.
“Shit!”I hauled left on the wheel, overcorrecting, and the car whipped in the other direction.
No, no, no!But the car had no desire to listen to my protests.It lurched forward, momentum carrying me toward the racing line, where—
A flash of bright purple filled my vision.A Hermes car was right beside me, trying to overtake me.
Not the time!my brain screamed, but there was no way to avoid what came next.
My car’s nose slammed into the Hermes’s sidepod with a terrifying squeal.The purple car lurched sideways from the force, the right wheels breaking contact with the tarmac.Time stretched impossibly thin as I watched the Hermes car tilt, tip, then flip with horrifying slowness, rotating through the air.
It arced toward the barrier, tumbling, carbon fiber pieces shedding across the tarmac.
My own car bounced from the impact, the steering wheel wrenching from my hands as I spun.The world became a blur of gravel and grass.
This is bad, this is bad, this is bad.
The screech of metal on gravel filled my ears, drowning out everything else.Every muscle in my body tensed against the spin, useless, just along for the ride.The car shuddered violently one final time, then went still.
Then came the silence, thick and suffocating.Or maybe it wasn’t silence at all.Maybe my ears were just ringing too loud to hear anything else.Smoke rose up from somewhere to my left as my eyes watered behind the visor.
“Lily?Lily?Are you okay?”The sound of my radio startled me.
“Yup,” I whispered, my voice coming out shaky, vowels stretching in my thick Liverpudlian accent the way they always did when adrenaline hit.“Stilllllhere.Allllll gooood.”
Silence echoed on the other end, and I could picture the team in the garage, exchanging glances, trying to assess whether that slurred drawl meant I was actually fine or concussed and lying.
When I thumbed the visor up, cool air rushed over my face.For just a second, it felt refreshing, and I welcomed the small breeze, even if it was filled with smoke.Behind me, my own car sat stuck in the gravel, wafts of smoke escaping it.It would need a tow, but surprisingly, the chassis looked more intact than I’d expected.
