“You drove brilliantly, Matthew. You won Driver of the Day.”
“I—what?!” But that’s a fan voted award. “Me?! I won Driver of the Day?” An award given by fans.
Matt doesn’t have any fans.
“Yes, you did. Mega drive—you’re bringing home twelve points. The team’s very happy.”
Matt parks in parc ferme and takes a moment to just sit with it.
There’s no denying he’s disappointed, but there are people who watched the race and saw how hard he fought. Theyvotedfor him. He received so many votes he ended upwinning. That had to matter for something, right?
Fuck, he really wanted that podium, though.
Once he’s out of the car, a giant weight barrels into his side and lifts him off the ground. “You got fourth! You gotfourth!!!”
Matt kicks his legs, but he still can’t reach the pavement. “Let me down!”
Robert does, but he doesn’t let go, bonking their helmets together as he hugs over his shoulders.
They’ve never been hugging teammates before, but Matt’s not going to complain. He returns the hug and says, “Thanks for the tow.”
“Only repaying the favor from qualifying.” Robert releases him and nods over to the weigh station. “Sorry it wasn’t enough for the podium. How far were you off by?”
“Like, four seconds.”
4.3, but who’s counting?
“Yeah, that would've had to have been a helluva tow.”
As the rest of the drivers line up, they congratulate Matt with the odd fist bump or shoulder pat. He’s never had a result good enough for other drivers to celebrate before.
The line moves quickly and Robert scoots up with it. “Well, we have two more races. Maybe next time you’ll win the whole thing.”
Matt snickers before he catches himself. The punchline is that the Andes car is shit, which might be a mean thing to point out to a guy who just signed a three-year contract extension with them.
Robert waits for him to be weighed before they head to the garage together. They've fallen back on their favorite post-race conversation—a minute by minute recap of everything that happened during the race—when Robert interrupts.
“What’s goin’ on at our garage?”
Several harried marshals run towards them, pointing Robertand Matt back toward parc ferme. They’re followed by an army of people in pink and blue—enough to be their entire team.
“A fire, maybe?” All of the people Matt can see point in the direction they’re running. “I hope someone saved my phone.”
“You need to get to the podium,” the fastest marshal says, heaving.
“What?” Matt looks between the marshal and Robert. “But I was fourth.”
Did they hand out trophies for winning Driver of the Day? He’s never had one before.
“No, Santiago received a five second penalty after the race. And you were?—”
“I was four point three seconds behind him.” Matt’s mouth falls open on a gasp. “I got third place?”
“You have to get—go to the podium.”
The entire team is still running towards them. Some of them wave their arms, while others scream, “GO!” and “PODIUM!!!”
Matt and Robert look at each other, drop their helmets, and take off in the direction they just came from.
