Page 79 of Falling Fast
TWENTY-SIX
I UNDERESTIMATED. THIS HASN’T been a long few days, it’s been a soul-sucking eternity.
At this point I’m ready to join Vienna in tracking Corey down and breaking his other leg. Thanks to him, I’ve spent the past seventy-two hours doing damage limitation over reports of a smashed-up hospital room. I know he must be feeling pretty devastated right now and I feel bad for him, but his behaviour still reflects on the team and we’re busy enough fielding questions about Quinn. Most journalists are asking the same thing, about why she was chosen to stand in, as opposed to any other available driver. Nobody actually says it out loud, but the words ‘femaledriver’ are implied. It’s like nobody can believe she’s here on the basis of talent alone.
On top of that, there’s been practice and qualifying. Fortunately, I’ve been so busy in the Media Centre I haven’t had to venture anywhere near the garage. I’ve caught brief glimpses of Leif from a distance, but so far I’ve managed to successfully avoid him. The fact that he hasn’t sought me out either makes me wonder if he’s avoiding me now too, but I’ve no headspace left to ponder the implications.
At least it’s finally Saturday, which means the media’s attention is shifting away from the personalities and politics to the actual race. The usual suspects (Marr, Gio and Shimizu) occupy the top three spots, while Leif is in P10, his worst qualifying position in eight races, and Quinn is P17, not bad for a debut, but not exactly great for the team.
Ten minutes before the race, I head into the communications office at the back of the Rask motorhome to find Robbo, one of the technicians, glaring at a TV screen.
‘Hey. Are you all right?’ I follow his gaze. The picture changes as I look, but for a split second I thought I caught a glimpse of Leif.
‘Mmm?’ Robbo gives a start, like he didn’t notice me come in. ‘Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something I heard.’
‘Anything juicy?’
‘More disappointing.’
‘Oh, really?’ I wait for him to say more, but he’s busy glaring at the screen again. ‘So are we all good to go?’
‘Pretty much. Both cars are in grid position.’
‘Great.’ I curl up on the sofa in the corner. ‘Would it be rude to nap?’
‘I won’t tell anyone.’
‘Thanks.’ I rest my head on a cushion. I’ve never slept through a race before, and I really don’t want to miss this one, but I’m so exhausted I can’t resist. After four days of incessant activity and continued emotional turmoil, I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone think straight. I’ll watch the replay later. Right now, I need to recharge my batteries a little.
It’s the last thing I think before I drift off, though it feels like only seconds later that a hand shakes me awake again.
‘Huh?’ I lift my head groggily. ‘What is it?’
‘Ava, wake up! You need to see this.’ Emika’s tone is serious. ‘There’s been an accident.’
‘What?’ I break into a cold sweat as I see a group of people gathered around the TV screen. They’re all standing very still and a few have their hands pressed to their mouths. ‘Who?’
‘It’s more like who isn’t involved. Twelve cars just went out.’
‘Leif?’ I get up and stagger forward, my pulse thumping so hard I feel dizzy.
‘No.’ Yuto puts a hand out to steady me. ‘Neither he nor Quinn were involved.’
I feel a rush of relief, immediately followed by guilt. There are twenty other drivers to think about. ‘Is anyone seriously hurt?’
‘We don’t think so. The race has been red-flagged and the medics are out there, but it looks like everyone’s OK. It’s a total mess, though.’
I drag in a breath as my eyes focus on the screen. Yuto’s right: the track is in total chaos. There are bits of carbon fibre and rubber everywhere.
‘What happened?’
‘It was one of the Gold Darts,’ Emika answers. ‘Both the Fraser and Quezada cars had just pitted so the field was crowded. Erikkson went too tight into the bend and connected with Marr and Shimizu. Then Gio and Zaragoza went into them. It was like a whole chain reaction. Most of the front-runners are out.’
‘Is Gio OK?’ Fear grips me again.
‘Yes. He’s standing over there with Marr, look.’
I heave a sigh of relief, not just for Gio but for Maisiewatching back home. She must be a nervous wreck right now. I’d call her, except she’s probably waiting for a call from Gio himself.
