Adrian is sitting in his Formula Three car right before his first-ever race in it. My heart beats quickly in my chest, and my breathing is uneven. I’m nervous for him. Grandpa stands next to me and waits for a chance to talk to Adrian.
“Breathe, race, and win, as long as it doesn’t cost you a limb,” Grandpa states slowly, and I look at him. These are the only English words he ever says to us because he likes how they rhyme. Grandfather gives me a brief smile, revealing how happy he is. There is nothing more important in this world to him than us. We are his life and his pride. He gives us the affection, respect, and attention which our father has long found unnecessary. Winning is important to Grandpa, but our health and happiness are even more so. Succeeding has nothing to do with winning for him.
“I will give it my all,” Adrian assures both our grandfather and me, and I smile proudly at him. Adrian is one of the youngest drivers in Formula Three, but he is also one of the most talented. Grandfather takes my hand and leads me away from the car, which is much smaller than an F1 car.
“Don’t worry, little champion, your day will come,” he guarantees me, and I chew on the inside of my cheek. He adopted my father’s nickname for me a few years ago. In his words, it will help me reach my potential. It will give me confidence and faith. I never doubt myself because I know I want this more than anyone else. I want to be the first female championship contender in Formula One.
Staring at the small screens, I can’t calm the anxious feeling which turns my stomach upside down. There are so many things that could go wrong, and I can’t bring myself to look when the lights go out, and the cars start to race.
“Don’t be scared. Adrian is doing well,” Grandfather informs me, and I remove my hands from my eyes. Adrian is indeed doing well. He’s in the sixth position, which is excellent considering he started tenth.
“Go, Adrian,” I cheer and clap my hands together with excitement. I am filled with pride.
The loud noises around me have become familiar and pleasant. It would be odd not to hear them anymore. It would be strange if I didn’t see people running around and having heated arguments. It would be unusual not to see the mechanics with helmets on, staring at the screens as I do too. I have grown used to all those things, giving me a sense of belonging. I understand more of the language spoken here now, and I can even ask Grandfather questions to expand my knowledge. He always has patience as he explains new aspects of the sport to me.
Today, I ask him about the different penalties drivers can receive. He tells me about time penalties, grid penalties, and drive-through penalties. For time penalties, additional seconds would be added to the gap between the different drivers, which might result in the loss of positions for the person who received the penalty. A grid penalty means the driver has to start certain places behind what he qualified for. The drive-through penalty requires the driver to go through the pit lane once. Since it is the only part of the track with a speed limit, they usually lose a lot of time and even a certain number of places, depending on how far ahead they are. This decision is made by the FIA, who is in charge of ensuring rule-abiding.
“Thank you for teaching me,” I say to the person I look up to the most.
“I will do so until there is nothing left to teach you. I promise.”
“Are you ready?” I ask Adrian, and he nods his head too quickly for me to believe him.
“Breathe, race, and win, as long as it doesn’t cost you a limb,” we say in perfect harmony. Grandpa used to say it to Dad before his races and then to Adrian and me before ours. It’s a tradition to say because it brings good luck. Adrian gives me a quick hug and then joins everyone to listen to the Australian anthem.
All twenty drivers stand in a line as they respectfully listen to the anthem sung by a young woman. Fans are quiet in the stands but soon cheer when it is over. The drivers then move on to have a group picture taken. The nervous feeling in my chest is overwhelming as they move back to the cars that are already on the starting grid. The crew works hard to warm the tires with tire blankets and make any final adjustments to the car. All the fans get more impatient, including me, as the time runs down to the start of the race. I see Gabriel smiling at his performance coach on the monitors right before putting on his balaclava and helmet. My mind briefly drifts to last night and his attempts to speak to me today, but I push those thoughts aside to focus on my brother.
Once all the drivers are in their cars, they take one lap called the formation lap to heat their tires, allowing for better grip on the track. They do that by swerving from left to right. After they return to the start and finish line, I wait for the lights to go out. This is always the most nerve-wracking for me because the cars are so close together, and it is all about the drivers’ reaction times. I’m at the edge of my seat, watching the screens, and when the lights go out, I have to bite down on my bottom lip. Adrian gets an incredible start and stays ahead; Gabriel overtakes Jonathan and moves to second place; Kyle overtakes James for a brief second, but then James moves back ahead. So much is going on, and I have no idea where to look. I bite on my fingernails as I watch the race.
After the first couple of laps, I start to worry less as Adrian creates a time gap between himself and Gabriel to ensure he stays in first place. But when it’s time for the pitstop to change the tires, I hold my breath. Adrian’s stop is incredibly slow, closing the gap he worked so hard to achieve. Gabriel is merely two seconds behind him since he already stopped to change his tires a lap earlier. I start to feel nervous for my brother then, and everyone in his garage is glued to the screens.
Toward the end, Adrian and Gabriel are still one and two, fighting for first place. Gabriel comes closer and closer until he overtakes my brother a lap before the end of the race. It’s a head-to-head battle until the very last second, but Gabriel manages to snatch the win from Adrian. Kyle comes in third place, James is fourth, Jonathan is fifth, Eduardo comes in eighth, Cameron is tenth, and Leonard Tick’s car never makes it over the finish line. The whole Ferrari paddock celebrates as the two drivers get first and second-place finishes, and I do so with them.
When the three guys stand on the podium, I am at the bottom, mouthing the words to the anthem of my home country. The trophies are distributed, and Adrian is forcing a happy expression. The smile on Gabriel’s face makes me sick to my stomach. I’m delighted for him, but at the same time, I’m so angry about what happened yesterday.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur. There is a lot of cheering, many different interviews Adrian has to go to, and eventually, I go back to the hotel. I decide to call Evangelin and see how she’s doing. She picks up after the third ring, and we fall into a casual conversation. She tells me about her store, and I fill her in about the weekend and the results, although I know she watched the race. We hang up minutes later, and I fall asleep as the events of today overwhelm my body.
