Faking it || Lando Norris LN

2

Olivia Reyes

"Last flying lap starts... Now."

As soon as I heard Matt's words, my entire body started tingling. My foot couldn't have slammed against the pedal faster than I did. Each time I'm out on the track, my entire headspace shifts. Nothing's able to break my focus. I can't let it.

After yesterday's terrible practice sessions, I hit the simulator for about three hours. It didn't feel like much. I would've embraced clocking a couple more had Santiago not dragged me out of there and forced me to eat. It had been worth it. I perfectly engraved the circuit in my mind and now I only had to drive my ass out.

I smiled to myself as I made my way through Turn 9 and then Turn 10. It was perfect.

But I spoke too soon. Turn 11 was messy, the exit had been terrible.

"Don't sweat it, Reyes. Keep pushing." My engineer, Matt, spoke.

I made my way through the corners and went flat out on the straight, praying for it to be enough, but it was like wishing for a miracle. I knew the messy exit in Turn 11 had cost me precious time. The tingling in my body was gone. Turns 14 and 15 flew by as I crossed the finish line, waiting for Matt to announce my position.

"P7, Reyes. P7. Order is: Norris, Ricciardo, Leclerc, Hamilton, Sainz, Verstappen and yourself."

He was trying to remain neutral. I could tell from planets away, but everyone knew that wasn't the result we'd expected. After driving back to the garage and getting out of the car, most engineers and mechanics patted my back in sympathy. I took my helmet off and leaned against a wall, my gaze meeting Santiago's dark brown eyes with a sigh, both of disappointment and tiredness. I was sweating like crazy.

"Media pen time." Gianna stepped in front of me as I was making my way towards Santiago. I dropped my head backward and sighed again. She pulled me into her arms and hugged me. "It won't take over 10 minutes, I promise. I'll get us some donuts after it." I raised my brows. The media pen didn't sound that bad after all.

Gianna was 27 years old and worked as Ferrari F1's Communications Manager. She was an Italian about my height, had pin-straight brunette hair, and was the perfect accomplice to Charles and me. During good days, we just felt like a group of friends, either laughing our heads off or enjoying a comfortable silence. However, during bad days, Gianna Bianchi was a force of nature. Formula 1 could often feel like an extravagant circus where drama was the showman and money was the lead star. Still, no one navigated those currents like the Ferrari team, and it all came down to Gianna's talent to handle crisis, controversy, and even take advantage of it.

My first season in F1 was full of interesting events. Half of the world was excited to see a woman in F1, while the other half hated the sheer thought of it. There had to be a balance, we had to take advantage of the hype my arrival was getting, but also be careful not to overdo it and end up increasing the hate half of the world already had against me over just being a woman inside a car. 

In the beginning, it had been tricky and confusing as hell, and the doubts I would overhear from the other team's communications staff got under my skin more than once. Some people wondered how the team would get half of the world to 'un-hate' me and the rest of them said that even if the team got the entire world to love me, it would all be for nothing if I didn't deliver enough results. 

"You're clever, gorgeous, kind, and most importantly: a hell of a driver." Gianna had taken my face between her hands once during my first few weeks in Formula 1 when I'd felt the world crumble. "I don't give a shit about the world liking you, we're gonna make the world respect you."