Page 127 of Crash Course Omega
Maybe the Cuba Libre is one of those alpha elitist types who thinks betas and omegas shouldn’t race. Or maybe he's just a straight up asshole who doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘fun’. No matter what it is, I’m not going to give up my position.
I’m enjoying myself too much. Because driving a Grace car, even if it’s still a pink monstrosity, I feel like I’m representing my family again. And I want to take pride in that as well.
“Hey, Jacob?” I say as I zoom out onto a straight, my smile widening with every second that I speed by. “Tell Everest to come out onto the grid to welcome us back.”
"Why would he do that? You know how much he hates crowds.”
“Tell him I asked him to. You know why.”
He sighs heavily, and I can just imagine him pressing his lips together in that disapproving way of his.
“Fine, but that’s the only favor I’m doing you.”
My grin stretches out as another spurt of energy bursts through me. It's my time to shine.
We’re pulling way ahead of the actors, and I’m worried we’re going to end up swooping around the track and meeting the pack at the back. It hasn’t happened so far, but the actors are trailing behind. But if I had never driven before and I was suddenly thrown onto a track like Silverstone to race against professional drivers, I'd feel the same.
But it's time to go. I keep my eyes on the track, look down the long straight of the speed trap, and slam my foot down.
I rev hard, choking through the gears clunkily, laughing at how nervous I am as we near the final lap.
I have to remember that my pack is always with me.
But this is what I want. A ride that makes my body feel weightless as the cloudy British sky grows even grayer.
I slow right down again to get through the (switchback), and then the world is mine. High battery, high fuel, and I pitted six laps ago with Everest beside me and slick in my suit.
The engine fires to life under me, and I yell with it as we pick up speed again.
The Cuba Libre is just coming around the corner, but there’s no way he's catching me.
I fly through the strait of Sector 1.
Then comes the hardest part. The hairpin is the most dangerous place on the whole track.
Nerves hop and skip through my stomach as I churn down the gears and slow the car, enough for the Cuba Libre to catch me up.
It’s tight, so tight that I’m worried I’ll slow down too much. But the car is good, and I hope I have learned enough in my crash course to take him on.
Jacob keeps talking about my theatrics out on the track, and I’m pure drama as the Cuba Libre keeps gaining on me, and all I have for him is dirty air.
We chug through the hairpin, and I take the sharp right to get us out onto the smooth curve of another long run of Sector 2.
Now it's time to go.
Foot flat on the floor, steering wheel gripped between hard fingers, I swallow a breath to prepare.
My heart still jumps into my throat as the car roars as we tear into the fast straight.
We’re going so hard that the g-force from the speed is pushing me into the back of my seat, and I love it.
“This isn’t a Grand Prix, Harmony,” Jacob warns.
“Tell that to the Cuba Libre. I’m not going to let myself be beat by someone like him.”
I like the way he sighs through my earphones. It means he knows there is no arguing with me.
As the Cuba Libre comes in close, a growl rumbles through me. This is the real thrill of the challenge, what I have been fighting for and looking for all along. This is what Jacob had been aiming for when they first cast me in the movie. To get me behind the wheel and competing again.
