Against You

Water Race

"Hey! What are you doing?" he shouts, splashing my face with water. I can't see but I can still feel my float against my legs, so I take Oscar's flamingo's tail between my teeth and bite down hard. It doesn't make a loud noise, but I feel the bubbles starting to come out against my lips.

"Get off me!" he shoves my head backwards and I make my retreat to my own float. The pool is too deep to stand up in so it's hard to get back on, but as soon as I do I start catching Oscar. His float is getting soft and floppy underneath him, significantly stalling his progress.

I make sure to give him a wide berth as I pass.

"Did you break my flamingo?" Oscar shouts after me. There's a hint of laughter in his voice, which unsettles me. Why is he laughing? I'm trying my best to anger and upset him, and he's laughing?

I reach the other end of the pool first and slide out, victorious. I pump my fist in the air a couple of times, panting, and start the walk back around to the other side. There are still two more challenges to win.

"Well done, racers," Grace claps. "For your next challenge you have to create a raft out of pool noodles and duct tape. You have ten minutes to build, then the race will start."

"I'll do the piece to camera," Oscar volunteers, but Grace shakes her curls around her head.

"You don't need to, we'll just put the explanation on screen."

I smirk. That's Oscar humiliated twice in the space of one minute.

The next challenge sounds more fun as it speaks to my creative nature. When Grace starts the cameras I try to remember my physics lessons about buoyancy, but it mostly comes up blank. I know a surprising amount about physics from being a Formula One driver, but buoyancy is not something we usually focus on in the post-race debrief.

I start by strapping together a line of noodles. It's hard because they're already wet and very uncooperative, but I manage to get five together in a kind of surfboard shape. It doesn't look like enough. I test it gently with my foot and the back of my boat sinks immediately. At least it looks better than Oscar's. His raft looks more like a giant sausage.

I narrow my eyes. I have to win this challenge if it's the last thing I do.

Oscar POV

My blood is boiling. This challenge should be right up my street, and the fact that Lando beat me in the first round is ridiculous. Not only that he beat me, but that he turned into an absolute savage to do it, leaping off his float and biting a hole through mine. What kind of madman does that?

My pool noodle kayak, however, will be unsinkable. It can already hold most of my weight and it won't sink no matter how much anyone bites it. I strap the final two noodles to the creation and grab another one to use as an oar. I bet Lando won't have thought of that, although he's sure to copy me as soon as he sees it, so I loosely tape another extra noodle to my boat just in case he manages to wrestle the first one from me.

When the time ends Lando's raft looks more like a lilo.

Then we set sail.

As I push off as hard as I can I hear an enormous splash behind me. Lando is using his creation as a body board and using his arms to power through the water, whereas I've gone for a more sit-down approach. I paddle as fast as I can but to my dismay he's actually catching up. Pool noodles don't make good oars. I consider whacking Lando on the head with it, but then I remember this is being filmed.

Despite my far better structural integrity and poise, Lando wins the second challenge too.

We regroup by the cameras and I avoid eye contact with anyone. What an embarrassing performance. I'm Australian, for god's sake, we can all swim.

"The next race is plain old swimming. Three, two, one, go!"

The whistle blows before I've even gathered my thoughts. Lando dives straight into the water and I'm a painful second after him. I break the surface with a cough and front crawl forwards, half-hoping to be able to grab his leg and drag him back. But he's faster than I thought.

The spray and chlorine make it almost impossible to see where he is so I have to rely on sound. My heart beats loudly in my ears as I put absolutely everything into the water, and then I touch the wall.

"Who won?"

I scramble out of the pool and look over at Grace. She tilts her head to the side, sticking her lips out in thought. "I think it was a draw!"

"What!?" I shout, throwing my aching arms in the air. "How can be a draw? If it was the Olympics, would you say it was a draw?"

Grace laughs and Lando smirks infuriatingly.

"It's not the Olympics, Oscar. It's a McLaren teammate challenge."

"Well I'm not doing them anymore! I'm sick of these stupid games."

I storm off down the side of the pool, wet feet slapping against the tiles. I dimly hear Lando laughing through the outro and I feel a pang of guilt and a heatwave of embarrassment. How is Grace going to make a usable video out of that? It doesn't matter. Better that footage never ever sees the light of day. My fans would think I've completely lost my mind.

As if that torture wasn't enough, later in the day we have a press conference. It's the last one before the summer break so we're all expected to wax lyrical about the amazing holidays and spa breaks we're planning. Not me though. I sit on my chair, sweating under the lights in the dark room and tell the journalists I'm spending my summer break in Woking.

"Is there nowhere special on your wish-list?" one of them asks.

"The gym at the MTC," I reply.

"What about visiting your family in Australia?"

I shrug, but inside I feel a pang of guilt. "It's a long way to fly, and a large time difference. I'll see them when they visit me at one of the race weekends. For now I'd rather stay focussed on the team and all the challenges I have ahead of me this season."

"I've got another question for Oscar," a bald man in tiny glasses stands up. "How is the rivalry with Lando Norris affecting your performances? You're on track to become one of the most decorated rookies in history podium-wise, but you still haven't got a win."

I sigh and the microphone picks it up embarrassingly loudly. A few of the audience members laugh, but I cringe.

"It makes me a better racer," I say. "Right now I'm totally focussed on the job. Nothing can get in between me and doing my best for McLaren."

"Do you think you'll be keeping your race seat?"

I take a deep breath as my heart pounds.

"Yes. For me, there's no other choice."