Page 121 of Away We Go

Marina Bay Street Circuit

26–28 September

CHAPTER 24

Cherry

I don’t think I can do this anymore.

I stare at the screen of my phone in my hands and blink back my tears. It feels like all I’ve been doing is swallowing down sobs filled with self-pity and even I’m getting sick of myself.

“You need to buck up,” I mutter under my breath.

“Huh?” Serena looks over at me, having just taken out her earbuds and caught me talking to myself.

“Nothing.” I shake my head.

“Cherry, what have I told you about being on social media?” she lectures, grabbing my phone and turning it off. “Being on a plane should be the one place you’re free from this sort of stuff.”

“Free Wi-Fi,” I say, pointing up, like that’s where it’s coming from. Come to think of it, where does it come from? And how does it work?

Well, that’s a conundrum for another day.

“Seriously, girl. Why are you doing this to yourself?” She gives me a side eye and I shrug because I can’t explain it to her. I can barely explain it to myself. Part of me wants to ignore what the world ofkeyboard warriors is saying about me, about Nicky and me, and the other half feels that’s worse. Like, better the devil you know and all that stuff.

“It’s gotten so much worse since Barcelona.”

She winces and hands me her small bag of cookies. Like a true friend.

“Thanks.” I cram two chocolate chip cookies into my mouth and feel no better. I’d thought by travelling to Singapore apart from Nicky, by getting some space from him, my muddled thoughts would magically clear.

Newsflash: they have not.

“Barcelona wasn’t your fault.”

I know this is true, that the upgradedVortex Motorscar is just that bad, but when the world caught glimpses of me and Nicky playing tourists on Las Ramblas—a famous pedestrian street in the heart of the city—the night before qualification day, they decided it is in fact my fault that Nicky qualified right down the order and would be starting P11 on race day.

It was the worst-case scenario.

“We didn’t even stay out that late. You know Nicky. He’d never do anything to jeopardise the race weekend. We just went out for some tapas and were in bed at 8.30 p.m. I don’t understand where all the vitriol is coming from.”

We both turn and smile at the elegant air hostess who’s offering us drinks. To me, she’s my new favourite person.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” I order, and watch Serena grimace next to me, but stay silent.

“Make that two,” she says after a beat.

I clasp her hand in mine, grateful to not be drinking alone.

“Can I ask you something?” I say after we’ve both downed half our plastic cups of alcohol. Alcohol I hope will act as somewhat of a truth serum for my bestie.

She nibbles on some peanuts before nodding. “Sure.”

“You’ve been part of the team for two seasons now. You’ve seen Nicky out in his element up close, when he almost won the whole thing last year. Do you think he’s changed? And do you think it’s at least in some part my fault?”

The silence lingers between us for so long, I almost give up on hearing an answer.

“You want the truth?” she asks, taking another big sip of her drink before angling the top half of her body to face me.

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