Ale, get yourself together. You hate the guy; he’s a narcissistic jerk who wants to make you work harder than you already have.
The pep talk didn’t help me at all. I still think he’s hot as fuck.
ChapterNine
Maria Alejandra
“Your car should be aerodynamically correct to your weight and height. We tried to make it as easy as possible for you to become accustomed to the car early on,” one of my engineers says to me.
“Okay, sounds good. I’m going to try and adapt as fast as possible today so that I can go faster in quali in a few weeks.”
It’s time to finally get into the car. Ever since the photoshoot yesterday I’ve been dying to drive again.
The first practice session is going to be underway in about thirty minutes. I’m nervous and excited, but at the same time I just want to get it over with.
Every time a driver gets into their car for the first time, it can go one of two ways. One, they acclimate lap by lap, or two, they crash and can’t get the hang of the car for the rest of the season. Since every driver—rookie or veteran—has never driven their car before, it’s fair game out there. It’s really a test to see who’s the best.
Testing is where we can really feel the car, how fast it can go, how grip is, and what it’s like G-force wise at turns and even the pull going down a straight.
For me, I try to analyze every single detail that can possibly help strategically. At the end of the day, I am the second driver. I’m meant to get second. I hate it with every inch of my being, but it’s the reality of it all. All I can do is stay consistent and get as many points as possible in the Driver’s and Constructors’ championships to stand my ground. I can be a team player and I will be, but at the beginning of the season, it’s not about sacrifice. Once we get closer to closing out the season and fighting for Constructors’ and Driver’s Championships, that’s when sacrifice truly begins.
Zipping up my suit and putting on my helmet, I jump into the car. My engineer grabs my halo and puts it overhead. The seating is good; not great, but good for my first test run.
Once my feet reach all the way inside the car, I’m handed my steering component and lock it on.
Turning on the engine, I let the car heat up a little bit. Hearing the go ahead from my main engineer, I begin at a low-speed and efficiently pull out of the pit lane. I drive until I reach the end, finally accelerating to medium speed. I try to find my pace; I reach the first curve, feeling the pull and overall push I can give. I’m happy with it. The car is nice aerodynamically, and now, it’s time to push the hell out of it.
I can’t help but smirk, it’s time to fuck some shit up.
It’s almost the end of practice and I feel good. The car is going at a moderate speed and the overall feel is stable. Since we have one more practice before the race, I think during this last lap I’ll try to keep it steady.
Sometimes it’s more important to go at a moderate pace than to go faster. Even though I’m not going at high speed, I’m also not racing. Feeling good in the car first is more important than speed and that’s the secret to driving without any anxiety.
I want to push the hell out of myself and the car, but now is not the time.
“Miss Castillo,” I hear in my ear.
“Yes.”
“Donatello speaking, go faster for the love of God.”
“Are you really in my ear telling me to go faster? In practice? Oh god, I don’t want to see what it’s like in races,” I sigh.
“You’re going slower than Xavier at the moment, we need to see the car’s capabilities rather than the drivers, so go faster,” he yells.
I stay silent, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of a response.
I go slower making sure no one is on my tail, I don’t fucking care. He can tell me to go faster over and over again, I won’t. I slowly pull into the pit lane without telling anyone beforehand.
I pull in slowly but surely, while letting the engineers take over once I hop out. Taking my helmet off, then the suit piece that covers my head from the heat. I take my hair out of my scrunchie and shake my curls out with my fingers. Yanking out my earpiece, I shove it into my helmet as well as the cloth that was previously covering my head underneath the protection. I see Mr. Donatello in my peripheral vision and turn around. Walking up to him, I shove the helmet into his chest, then look up at him and smile.
Then, I just walk away, like nothing ever happened.
I walk away calmly. I feel good about that practice, and he is not going to take that away from me. Making my way out of the paddock and into my cubicle, I grab a water bottle and a straw. I open it up and slowly take a long sip. Hopping onto the couch, I grab out my phone and start scrolling through TikTok.
I hear the door open.
Looking up, I see him walking in with anger lingering over his features. I love it when he’s angry, especially at me. The thought alone makes me smile.