“They’re changing to dry tires. Do you think we made a mistake letting Tilney go on?”
Ceci shook her head. “I think it’s too early. I don’t think the track is dry enough.”
When Clarke pulled out, she could see he was struggling with grip. She was right. But for the first time in her racing career, she got no satisfaction from it.
Clarke
Clarke: Fuck!
Race Engineer: Okay, Clarke, pit when you come around. We’ll replace the damaged wing.
He’d attempted to pass Becker, and they made contact. Not a full-on crash, but the impact had damaged his front wing. He’d have to pit.
Changing to dry tires at that first pit stop had been a mistake and he’d fallen back to fifteenth. Then they made a smart move, being the first team to switch to intermediate tires. He’d worked himself up to seventh after that. But now he was going to fall back again.
Ceci
Ceci looked out at the downpour. Would the Suzuka sky make up its mind already? There was another collision. That brought out the safety car, slowing everyone down. Not good for Blue Jet and Tilney, given he was out front and this closed the gap between him and the rest of the field.
She turned to Corey. “Let’s take advantage of the safety car, tell Tilney to pit when he comes around. We need to change back to wet tires anyway.”
Clarke
Race Engineer: Pit here, Clarke. We’re going back onto slick tires.
Clarke: Sounds good.
But being in thirteenth position? Not good.
Race Engineer: Do you think you can manage this being your last pit stop?
At lap thirty-nine with fourteen laps to go, it would be difficult.
Clarke: I’ll do my best.
Ceci
Radio Engineer: Fuck. I think he’s going to do it. He’s going to pass them.
Clarke was approaching the two cars up ahead of him—the two just behind Tilney, who was still out in front.
Come on, Clarke, she thought, holding her breath for fear she might shout it out loud. They were at lap fifty, only three more to go.
She watched as that calm, cool, signature driving of his managed to slip seemingly effortlessly between the two cars, as one hugged the corner and the other slipped to the outside.
Clarke
One last turn before the straightaway to the checkered flag. He was right on Tilney’s ass.
He was coming to the final turn now. Tilney was increasing his speed. Clarke’s foot hovered over the brake. It felt like gravity itself was pushing his foot toward it.
And then he heard a voice. Someone was speaking to him.
But this someone? At this moment?
It wasn’t his father. It wasn’t his mother. It wasn’t Athos or any of his three brothers. It wasn’t Ceci.
It was Aunt Delilah.
