Page 21 of Away We Go

Forty-nine laps and most of my sanity later, my premonition is coming true. This race is a beast.

I relax my grip on my steering wheel, blinking the sweat from my eyes. As predicted, the rain had eased to allow for a standing race start and I was lucky to get off the line and into an early lead. But it hasn’t been easy since then. And damn, it’s hot in here.

“Nicky, we need you to lift and coast around turns 3 and 4.”

Paul’s calm voice comes over the radio and I swallow back a curse. My water supply stopped working twenty laps ago, and between the threat of dehydration and the threat from the car behind me, my patience is on a razor’s edge.

“I’m doing my best, man. Can you give me something more down the straight?”

“Copy. I’ll get back to you.”

Alone with my thoughts again, I watch Nate in my mirrors. The current world champion and my closest rival has been right on my tail the entire race and it’s really annoying.

“Come on, Nicky,” I urge myself. “Break the DRS.”

DRS, or drag reduction system, enables the car behind to open its rear-wing and reduce its aerodynamic drag, allowing the car to increase its top speed and overtake more easily. The wing can open during specific sections of the track, when the car is within one second of the car in front. And Nate has been sitting in this zone all race.

Gritting my teeth, I focus on the upcoming corner. It’s where I’ve noticed the car behind lose a lot of speed and is my best chance to get ahead by more than one second. The corner rushes towards me and I pick my braking zone perfectly, shaving off two-tenths from my last lap.

“That’s it, Nicky,” Paul praises over the radio. “Just take that corner that exact same way every lap and you’ve got this race won.”

Excellent. I just need to be perfect for the next—check steering wheel—six laps and it’s done.

Easy.

Adrenaline flows through me, sharpening my eyes and slowing my heart rate. It’s a weird phenomenon with race car drivers; the higher the stress levels, the calmer we get. I sink further into this zone and try to enjoy the rest of the race. With Nathan falling even further behind in my mirrors, it just may happen.

Lap fifty-one, I count, crossing the finish line and starting another lap.

I wonder if Cherry is enjoying this race.

Lap fifty-two.

She really looks good wearing my shirt.

Lap fifty-three.

Matt would kill me if he knew what I was feeling for his sister.

Lap fifty-four.

Damn, she’s so pretty.

Lap fifty-five.

Was that her red hair I saw in the crowd?

Lap fifty-six.

Thank God, that’s over.

I ease my car in front of the giant number one and stay in my seat for a long moment. Nathan parks his car behind the P2, also staying seated. A race like that drains a driver. Especially if their water supply cuts off mid-race. Someone will get a talking-to for that blunder.

Once my legs feel able to carry me, I leave the car and take off my helmet. Running my hand through my hair, I wince at how drenched it is. The curls bestowed upon me by my Greek ancestors are springing to life and I long for a cold shower.

“NICKY!”

The crowd screams my name and I wave to them, searching for the flash of red hair I swear I saw when I was out there. Disappointed to not find her, I wrench my gaze to my team, who are beaming at me; their excitement about this win is almost greater than mine. I run and jump into their arms, hugging each of them and thanking them for their hard work. A race win like the one we had today takes more than just one man; it takes a village. And although I rarely say it, I love my village.

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