TO THE FINISH? FIC | Chapter Three: Thursday Free Practice
Melbourne, Australia
Soren swept the hair out of his face, winking at a camera as he walked by. That would be on the internet in, what, a couple of hours? He tried to guess how many likes it would get. One thousand? Ten?
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.
“Sup?”
“Sorbear!” Claudia’s voice crackled over the phone, dipping in and out of audibility. It seemed like she was running. “Where are you?”
Of course, their pre-practice ritual. She must have been doing a last jog of the track. Except they weren’t teammates anymore.
“We’re going out in like twenty minutes, Clauds,” Soren reminded her, ducking into the garage and giving the mechanics there a nod as he headed towards his locker.
“Oh yeahhhh.” Claudia sighed, out of breath. “Bummer. I’m gonna miss our runs.”
“Why don’t you invite Kasef?”
“Pfft-” he could practically see her rolling her eyes. “He can’t take a joke. Said I’m ‘quirky’”
“Wellll-” Soren pressed the phone to his ear with a shoulder as he began shrugging into his race suit. “You can be a little-”
“I am not quirky, Soren!” Claudia exclaimed, “I am mysterious and evocative.”
That was her favorite word now, evocative. Soren still wasn’t sure if she knew what it meant. Of course, it didn’t help that he didn’t know it meant, either.
“Mhm,” he agreed, switching the phone to his other ear as he zipped the suit up to his neck and clasped it closed at his throat. “Look, Clauds, I gotta go. Practice is starting.”
“Okay, okay. Just one sec. Dad wants to say something to you.”
“Dad?” he began, but there was already a rustling on the other end of the phone as she passed it to him. After a moment, Soren heard his father clear his throat on the other end of the line. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“I know you think of this as only practice, but every second in that car counts, Soren. The media are always watching, and remember that every crash - every bump - could cost the team thousands. Millions.”
“I know, Dad. I-”
His father cut him off. “I need you to be paying attention out there. Giving it everything you have. Am I understood?”
It didn’t matter what age he was, Soren had found. Six and in a go-kart for the first time, zooming around the track, just trying to have fun until-
Fifteen and staggering off his first podium, exhausted but brimming with excitement until-
Eighteen and signing his first Formula 1 contract, grinning ear to ear until-
“It’s not just fun and games, Soren. You need to put in the work. Nothing is going to be handed to you on a silver platter. That’s not how the world works. Am I understood?”
“Next time, push a little harder. We need you in first, not second, son. Am I understood?”
“What are you smiling about? You haven’t even stepped in the car yet. This isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. That’s a contract, not a promise. If you don't perform, you’ll lose it. Am I understood?”
And everytime Soren found himself nodding, the smile flickering a little bit before coming back stronger. He had to work for that smile, too. He had to work for everything.
“Got it. I won’t let you down.”
A snort, on the other end of the line, that was his reply. Then another rustle and the phone was back in Claudia’s hands and she was saying that she had to go, that they were being told to clear the track.
“Wait-” Soren interjected, quick before she got off the line. “Aren’t you guys on the other side of the paddock? I thought Dad was going to see me off for practice.” Soren hated the desperate slant to his voice.
A brief moment of discussion on the other end of the phone, too distorted for him to make out, and then-
“Sorry, Sorbear. Next time, okay? He said that since I’m in a new team he kinda needs to focus over here.”
“No worries,” Soren managed with false cheer. “I get it. Makes sense. Okay.”
“But good luck! We’ll be watching and I’ll be cheering for you!”
“Okay. Bye,” he said, but she’d already hung up.
Soren dropped the phone into his locker, the already scuffed protective case gaining another blemish. How long did he have until practice? He checked the time. Eight minutes. That should be enough.
Slipping out of the garage, Soren made a beeline for the driver rooms, stopping outside the one designated for their reserve. He didn’t bother knocking, just stepped right inside.
“Hey,” the smile was real now, lighting up his face as he spotted the man watching the practice laps on his TV.
Marcos turned to him, looking surprised. “Isn’t practice starting in five minutes?”
“Seven,” Soren assured him, plopping down on the couch next to him. He fidgeted, scooting a little closer, brushing a strand of blond hair out of his face.
“That’s the same thing.”
“A little different,” Soren said, moving a bit closer again, poking the other man in the shoulder. Marcos’ eyes were still on the TV, watching as one of the Tenebris drivers attempted a flying lap. “Five? No way you can do anything. Seven though?” Soren wobbled his hand in the air before them, shifting it from left to right. “You’ve got a little bit of leeway.”
Marcos turned to him, and Soren leaned a little bit closer. An attempt. An invitation. The other man shook his head. “You should be in the car, doing the radio check and getting ready to go out.”
“But-” Soren began, trapped in that awkward space between them. A little voice nagged at the back of his mind.
“Do you know what I would give to be in that car?” Marcos continued, the frustration evident in his voice. Not at Soren, but still at him. “I know it’s ‘only practice’ to you but-”
Soren shifted away, “Why does everybody keep saying that? It’s not ‘only practice’. I know it’s important! I’m not stupid.”
“That’s not what I-”
“A bump could cost the team thousands of dollars. Do you think I don’t know that?” Soren was on his feet now, the nagging voice growing louder as he backed towards the door.
See, even Marcos doesn’t want you. Doesn’t believe in you.
So much for a bit of quality time to help him relax.
“I didn’t say-”
“Well, you basically did,” Soren huffed, turning his back on Marcos. He reached for the door. “It’s probably been a little, anyway. Used up all that leeway. I should get to practice.”
“What did he say this time?” Marcos’ voice was quiet behind him, making Soren pause, hand still on the doorknob.
“Nothing.” Soren jerked the door open, letting it swing closed behind him as he marched down the hall back towards the garage. Didn’t know why he was wasting his time, anyway. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Every crash - every bump - could cost the team thousands. Millions.
Soren had to be paying attention. Giving it everything he had. He knew that.
