Page 130 of Overtake
“Much.” My head’s finally clear, the spiral of worry and self-doubt broken by Nico’s certainty and my pig-headedness.
“Good. Because you’ve got qualifying in three hours, and Bowie’s been pacing since dawn.”
I turn toward the glass doors, smile, and raise my hands, covering my lips as if to blow a kiss to the gathered media, but it’s my pink painted middle fingernails that deliver a clear message. And no air kiss follows.
Nico’s right. Fuck you for doubting us.
Quali prep proceeds like nothing weird is happening outside the garage. But Zara’s seat has been vacant all day. That’s doing my head in because she rarely misses a session. Did she have a lupus flare? It’s the only thing that would keep her away from the track. Hans is covering for her, but there’s no time to ask if she’s okay, and he doesn’t seem worried, so I shouldn’t either…
“Focus,” Bowie reminds me as we head for my car and Q1. But he’s noticed too and keeps glancing at her dark screens.
Cin hands me my helmet. “I’m sure she’s fine, Pet. Probably just needed a rest day.” They happen and PNW Nitro accommodates her. It’s what families do.
I get through to Q2 easily enough, but a crash in the first lap pauses Q3 long enough for me to get out of the car for a jog around the paddock. I need to release this nervous energy.
Cin accompanies me on my run and we keep looking at each other as we overhear snatches of conversation that only make me wonder more:
“The FIA’s questioning Pritchard again.”
“That’s why he’s not in the WolfBett garage?”
“I heard the Bettertons are flying in.”
They must mean Graham because Wyn and Reece have been on track. They qualified through to Q3.
I grab Cin’s sleeve and lean close so only she hears me. “Find out what the fuck is going on.”
She nods. “Focus on qualifying. I’ll ask around.”
As we near WolfBett’s garage, I spy Wyn pacing, hands on his hips, head shaking. He looks absolutelythunderous.Marcus and Gaël watch as Haran Tilke, Wyn’s physio, walks with him, clearly trying to calm him the fuck down.
Cin texts Maiken who’s with Reece while Ona’s away, but she doesn’t respond. He’s always been intense during qualifying, so I’m not entirely surprised. He likes complete isolation to maintain focus. But there’s some shit brewing.
Jacintha gets the ten-minute notification via radio. Q3 will resume soon. She sends me back to Nitro’s garage. “Do your job, Pet. None of this matters right now.”
I nod. “Yeah. You’re right.”
When I enter the garage, Bowie’s waiting with my balaclava, helmet, HANS, and gloves. My face must ask the question because he just shakes his head. “Just race, Petra.”
“Zara?” I don the balaclava and my earpieces.
“She’s fine.”
“Right.” On goes the helmet. The world and its current drama get shut out. All that matters now is getting the best position for tomorrow’s race.
“Make this count, TenP,” Bowie says as I accelerate onto the track.
“Let’s make history, team.”
The car feels balanced and responsive. But I keep circling back to Zara and Wyn. Did they discover something last night after we left?
Bowie’s voice crackles in my helmet. “Okay, Petra, you exceeded track limits at turn 1. Lap time deleted.”
“Bloody fucking hell. Is there time for another lap?”
“No. Looks like P3 for tomorrow.”
“Shit, shit, and double-shit. I’m sorry.”
