The Force of Gravity

Chapter Fourteen :: Abu Dhabi 2019

After Sochi, Nyck and I are tied in points. So, going into Abu Dhabi my championship battle was far from over. I'd rather not be fighting up until the last race of the season, but what was the alternative? Second place? Nope, unacceptable. I still have some fight in me.

Inka and I carry out our usual pre-race routine. There's no need for conversation. Only loud music and energizing movements. At this point I have the stretches memorized. It is only after we complete our competitive pose that Inka throws me a surprise.

A tennis ball flies towards my head. Out of pure instinct, I manage to grab the ball in the air before it can smack my face.

Inka nods her head solemnly, "now you're ready."

Tossing her back the ball, I shake my head. "Ok sensei."

Wordlessly, she tosses the ball back. I catch it. While the ball leaves my hand, she throws another one. I'm not as lucky this time. The ball bounces off my nose.

"Ow!" I pinch the bridge of my nose in hopes the stinging subsides.

Inka doesn't pause her assault. The next ball comes flying at my shoulder. I reach across my body and snatch it in the air. Another ball makes its way towards my opposite shoulder. I manage to snatch it in time. Slowly, I float both balls back to her. This process continues for a few more minutes.

Once satisfied, Inka places the balls back on the table. "Excited?"

A sigh escapes my lips, "that's one word for the feeling."

Inka wraps her arm around my shoulder. "What word would you use?"

"Nervous?"

She pulls me closer, "you are as prepared as you can be."

"And if it's not enough?"

"Then you hope they're not enough."

"And if they are?"

Inka laughs, "then you get second in the championship and turn your sights to preseason testing."

"Super supportive," I give her a breathy laugh.

"Just get through qualifying before you concern yourself with tomorrow."

I settle into my car. This is it. This is the moment I show out. Nyck joins qualifying. Soon after, Nicholas follows. I wait for other drivers to come in before I make my way out. The plan is to beat Nyck's time not set the pace. When I join the session, the team tells me Nicholas is slotted in fourth and Nyck fifth. The wiggle room brings me comfort. I still want pole. The time to beat for provisional pole is 1:50. No sweat. I follow my plan. Head down, I set a time.

"Good job, Jo. That's provisional pole!" My engineer yells in the headset.

"Yes! Let's keep it up!" I shout back.

Taking deep breaths, I try not to get ahead of myself. Relaxing my shoulders down, I push on.

"Yellow flag, yellow flag." My engineer repeats.

I hit the confirm button and bring down my speed. It takes a minute to register, but I slowly realize this solidifies my pole. Due to the yellow flag, no one has time to set any more flying laps.

Once back in the garage I leap into Inka's arms.

"Pole!" I shout.

"Pole!" She shouts back.

I lift her up and spin her around. She follows me through my varying post qualifying commitments. I don't want to stick around, so we find ourselves in the hotel room soon enough.

I lay on my stomach with my head rested on my crossed arms. Inka lays on her back beside me.

"Nyck starts tomorrow in 6th," she reminds me.

I smile, "I know! This couldn't be better for me. Now I just have to follow the plan and take the win."

After that, we cancel any more race talk. Instead, we go for a quick swim in the pool. At dinner we try to choose a movie or TV show to watch. I also relinquish my phone for the rest of the week. After Nicholas stole my phone in Sochi, I felt the lack of distraction was good luck.

The next day, we run through our typical pre-race routine. The music of choice is French rap. Inka surprises me with a third tennis ball. I'm so concentrated that I fail to notice my room's door open. The intruder slams the door closed successfully ruining my focus. All three balls hit my body lightly. I shoot a glare at the pest. However, annoyance turns to excitement when I realize who's speaking.

"Race ready?" Siobhan trills.

I jump into her arms, "you made it!"

"How could I miss this kid?" She pulls away and squeezes my shoulders. "Now, race ready?"

"Always steady!" I shout back.

Lights off. Away we go.

Well, it seems like only the cars around me go. I fall into third behind Callum and Louis. Head down. Focus up. In my rearview mirror I see Zhou gaining on me. Even he struggles to maintain the pace. I decide he doesn't pose a threat and focus on closing the gap between me and Louis. Wrong decision. Cursing, I watch as Zhou overtakes me.

"Pit next lap. Pit next lap." They tell me.

"So, we're scratching plan A?" I respond.

"Correct. Follow plan B. Plan B."

After pitting, I return to the race in eighth. I try and close the gap between myself and Matsushita. However, before I can there is a virtual safety car. Once racing returns, I slingshot past Mazepin. The race isn't over yet, I remind myself. Matsushita pits. This allows me to retake the lead. Only a few laps to go.

"What's my gap?" I ask.

"Almost 5 seconds!" They tell me.

Holy shit. All I need to do is cross the checkered flag. And I do. Another podium.

The pit wall is electric. I run into the arms of my team.

The next day, I pull out 3rd in the sprint race. The championship is mine. After celebrations I make my way to post-race interviews. The smile on my face makes my cheeks ache.

"Congratulations are in order!" The interviewer begins.

I nod back, "I'm still shaking."

Holding my hand to the camera, I show off my trembling fingers.

"You certainly had a good weekend! Do you feel Nyck's poor performance contributed?"

My smile falls and my brows furrow, "I don't understand the question."

"Nyck didn't have nearly as good of a weekend. Do you think that helped your performance?"

I stare indignantly at him, "I was too far ahead of him for his performance to have any impact on my own."

"Do you feel you lost out on a championship battle?"

"No."

"Well, there was no proper fight."

"Nyck and I have had plenty of fights on the track. I drove hard this weekend. He didn't. I won the championship."

"Well, do you think you won or did Nyck lose?"

I start laughing. The interviewer doesn't join. "Oh, that was a real question?"


"Yes, do you think you won or did Nyck lose?"

I tilt me head, "you aren't serious."

"It's just that—."

I turn and walk away before he can continue. A scowl replaces the smile I so easily wore. My heart beats wildly against my chest. Red flushes my face and skin. With shaking hands, I wave past everyone, march through the paddock and collapse in my room. Will this ever end?