"Oh, Kiara! Kiara! Over here! Hello and buongiorno ! We're in Italy- your home country- how are you feeling? Excited to be in front of your fans?"
"Hello Ted, so glad to be back in Imola. I love this circuit and of course I have the best fans ever here, even if they're not only for me!"
"Your smile is contagious! It's always so good to see you, Kiara. One last question and then I'll let you go. We heard some rumors about your health, actually about an apparent surgery you had in these weeks of break."
"Well, yes. Thanks to Pierre it's not a secret anymore but yeah, I had another small surgery on my injured knee. Everything seems fine so far, so let's hope for the best now. I'm up to beat some more asses with my new knee!"
"Wo, what an energy! Wish you the best Kiara, good luck and thank you for your time!"
I smiled again at the camera before turning away and running toward my garage, as I was already late for the morning meeting. I waved at some team members and ran to the back, to reach Fred and the others. As soon as I arrived, I was welcomed by many clapping hands.
Mike walked in my direction with a big cake in his hands, the media team was filming the scene, also Franz was there, stranding next to Pierre who had a huge grin on his face. Then in the back of the room, I spotted a big billboard with a quote, sticked on the car: "Kiara: 1 vs. knee: less than 0 . You're our champ! #21"
Tears started to wet my eyes but I promised myself to not cry anymore, not after the bad last week.
"Oh mamma mia, guys! Look what you've done. Thank you so much."
Then I started to thank one by one every member I recognize, squeezing hands and giving short hugs to everyone, obviously focusing more time on the people who were closer to me.
When Mike got closer too, still with the cake in his hands, I didn't have time to react, as he smashed it all over my face, in front of everyone, who of course laughed at the comedy.
"I knew it the first minute I saw you there. You're the worst!"
I tried to clean some cream off but it was basically impossible. But then I had the greatest idea of all the time. As my dear teammate was laughing so loud at my disgrace, I ran up to him, with open arms, while he was wishing away some tears from the laugh.
"Pierre, mon amour! Come here, I've missed you so much!"
Saying this, I jumped in his arms, pushing my face against his neck and face. The fluffy cream was now spread in his loved beard and half still on my cheeks.
"Oh no, you didn't."
"Oh yes, I did."
A guy from the media team came closer too with his camera, so we posed for a few photos and then came back to work.
"Ok, media pen with Lewis, Max, Charles and Lando."
"Ugh. Can we change it?"
"Kiara, we're already late, we cannot make any more changes. Just ignore him, ok? Try to take a seat far away from him and don't worry. It will last less than usual as Lewis and Max are not big fans of all of this reporters. Just be yourself but not too much. Obviously they're gonna ask you about the knee, your choice about what to say. Take a long breathe and show everyone your braveness with your usual smile. Let's smash them!"
I laughed at her comment, grabbed a microphone and then entered the room, already filled with reporters and cameras in every angles. The other drivers were already sat and of course, the bastard destiny, left an empty chair between Max and Lando.
I walked up there on the small stage while the guys were busy in deep whispered conversations. I coughed a bit, trying to catch their attentions and I was glad to manage it.
"Hi guys, welcome back to Italy!"
"Hey, how are you doing? I saw Pierre's post, you ok?" Charles was the first to stand up and give me a short hug to greet me.
"More than ok, as you can see. Don't I look in good shape?"
"Useless to say, you always look good, Kia." Also Max stood up and gave me a pat on the back. We weren't that close as I was with Charles, so it was a quite normal greet by his side.
"Guys, stop it, you're making me blush in front of the one and only Sir Lewis Hamilton."
"Darling, you look amazing, even more than before." His charm was unique, exactly like his smile.
"Sorry not sorry Max, but I need a break from the Bulls. I hope you two don't mind to share your personal space with me by your side." I said pointing to the Ferrari and the Mercedes driver, who automatically moved a bit on their side to allow me to take one of their seat, not more next to that fire. So now the new order was Lewis, me, Charles, Max and Lando.
Speaking of the devil, as soon as I sat, the McLaren driver came a bit closer, bending over on his chair and behind the others' backs, trying to catch even a simple glaze from me.
"Psst. Kiara?"
His whispered made a long shiver ran down my spine.
Fortunately I was saved from the main reporter who took the mic, starting the presentation and his questions.
As soon as the interview finished, I got up, fixed my pants down the leg, trying to hide the brace on the knee, and put back the mic on the chair, ready to reach my team and go away.
"Kiara?"
No. Not again, not now, not here.
"Hey, ehm... how are you?"
We were outside the media offices, almost in the middle of the paddock half empty because of the quiet late hour of the Thursday that was coming to an end.
Without turning my head back and meet his blue-greenish eyes, I tried to find Susanne in the amount of journalists and other media managers who just exited the room. I couldn't see her but I couldn't just stop there to be caught by him. I kept walking through the crowd, making it a bit further and through the AT motorhome. Then a warm big hand, grabbed my arm gently, making me stop in my tracks.
"I asked you if you're alright."
He was standing in front of me, in his orange team wear. It was inevitable to face him now. This way I noticed the big dark circles under his perfect eyes, today a bit redder and shiny than usually.
He looked terrible- I didn't think it was possible to use such an adjective for him, but here I was.
"Please, just answer. I'm trying to-" He added, visibly tired of chasing me.
"You don't need to try anything."
"I want to talk to you."
"I don't want it though. You can't force me."
"Stop acting like a kid."
"Stop breaking my balls then."
"Oh now I'm annoying you? You were the one to call me last week..."
That was the cherry on top...
"You were the one to fuck someone else last week."
My words hit him like a bullet, indeed he took a step back.
"That's not true and you should-"
"What should I do, huh? Trust you? No, never anymore. But don't worry, I understood what you said back in Melbourne, no need to repeat it."
"C'mon, we were drunk, I wasn't even serious."
"Maybe you were drunk. I was more than fine. You know what, Latin used to say in vino veritas [basically it means that when you're drunk you tend to say the truth] and I believe it."
"Kiara, this is just another of our incomprehension."
"Yeah, maybe it is, but for me it's more than this. How did you dare to tell me such harsh things, with all your arrogance and moreover in front of everyone? Where was your trust, huh? And where were you when I needed you the most? When I was fighting myself to not cry in my hospital bed because I would have woken up way too many people, while pretending to be perfectly fine, huh? Oh, yes, you were partying and fucking someone else, of course posting every minute on your Instagram. As you didn't care about me in all these moments and also some more, don't you dare do it now, because it's way too late."
Saying so, literally surprised by my own cockiness, I walked away from him, almost running, directly to the hospitality.
This weekend hasn't even started and it's going already bad.
***
Luckily media day passed in a blur, leaving the hot-tempered discussion back in the memory. My parents arrived a few hours ago, ready to watch quali and support me and of course the team.
"Fred?"
"Yeah?"
"Be honest. Do you think we'll be able to enter Q3?"
"Oh, Kiara- ok, honest, you said? If we have that pace, that rhythm, I personally don't think we will. But please, don't think about it too much."
"Don't worry, I won't. Let's get ready."
I wanted to give all myself in these laps, to set a good time and show everyone- above all the media who keep saying that our car is shitty- that although everything, we, as a team, can do big things.
Focusing on my breathe, I got ready, jumping in my car, ready to be fast, the fastest.
Of course in the end I didn't get pole position, but a very good P4, with Pierre just behind me in P5. The team was surprised, speechless, and I was too. Maybe it was just good luck, maybe we were for real good drivers, or maybe the others really sucked, even more than us in this occasion. Anyway the matter is that we're starting in the front rows and we do really have a chance to get a podium tomorrow.
The worst part of this good result? I'll start in the same row as Lando. We'll be wheel to wheel in the very first corner and messes could happen.
***
"You should sleep. Wait, why this long face?" My dad sat next to me in the hotel lobby.
It was night, we had dinner together a few hours ago and then we left to get some rest, but obviously my mind decided to make its own race right now, so it was pretty impossible to shout everything outside and relax.
"Dad, I think I'll make a mess."
"And why is that?" He said pulling his arm around my shoulder to warm me a bit up.
"I just have this feeling."
"You and your stupid pessimistic feelings. Kiara, do you see how far have you come? Just thanks to your talent, your passion, yourself. No help, no famous name, none of all this. You're here because you're worth it. You have to believe in yourself, at least a bit, otherwise nobody will."
"But dad-"
"No buts, love. I want you to know that I'll always believe in you, I'm proud of you for what you are on and off the track. You're a beautiful and strong young woman, you have nothing less than the others. I can't believe you're racing in F1 now. I kept remembering the Sundays spent together at the park, you with your little pink bike, ready to race every other little kid. Every time I look at you in your suit, I remember the afternoons spent on the sofa, watching the GPs together. And now? Now I'm the garage cheering for the best driver I know."
"Dad, I'm the only driver you know." I giggled at his words, wishing away some tears that escaped my eyes.
"You can do everything you want, ok? Never forget it. And please, never give up."
"Thank you dad, I love you."
"Now go to sleep or you'll be a zombie tomorrow. I want you on that podium, clear?"
"In your dreams, dad."
***
The race.
Today no funny business over the radio are allowed. I just have to focus and have a good start, to get some advantages on the McLaren next to me. While I put the visor down, I looked at my left, seeing him, ready too in his orange car. I can't see his face, only his eyes, and I know is looking at me too. In a swift move I pulled down the visor and pointed my attention to the red lights.
One light on. My feet was stable on the throttle, ready to spread away.
Two lights on. Gloves tight on the hands, gripping the steering wheel.
Three lights on. The protections over the knee weren't that comfortable, however they helped me, together with the brace under the suit.
Four lights on. Visor down, the sun wasn't annoying my eyes anymore.
Five lights on. Breathe stuck in the throat.
"And it's light out and away we go!"
"A good start for both the AlphaTauri, surprisingly strong this weekend, although all the speculations about the car and also the drivers. The car number 21 is giving everything out there, trying to overtake the bright papaya car. Will Bianchi do it?"
"We're at laps 14, almost every car has already had their first pit stops, I think we'll go with a two-stops strategy. It's very hot today so the degradation is high- oh, wait a minute, that's Kiara overtaking Lando Norris. Ladies and gentlemen, what an overtake! This is Formula 1!"
"Norris almost in DRS zone, will he try on the next straight? Or maybe the real questions is, will Bianchi let him pass? Wow, they're extremely close now, this McLaren DRS is unbelievable. They're gonna break for this turn, but no, they're going together. Uff, what a race. Kiara is giving all herself to not let pass his old friend. Is the kart rivalry again on?"
"Let's follow these two crazy drivers. Norris just overtook Bianchi again and again. They're really chasing each other, unbelievable, literally, how small is the gap between the two. Wait, Kiara is slowing down, is letting him pass?"
"Number 21 now has DRS still on number 4. She's coming, she's there, ready to grab her podium. But- Wo! What a mistake from them! They touched! The AlphaTauri spinned away to the gravels, hitting the barriers. What a contact!"
"Official: after a perfect race from Kiara Bianchi, she's now out of it, at lap 61. Other 3 laps and she could get good points. What a shame. On the other hand, Norris got no damage apparently, and he's back on the lowest step of the podium."
"Max Verstappen wins the Imola Gran Prix, followed by his teammate and his long-date friend Lando Norris!"
***
"I can't believe it! No penalty for it? Are we serious?"
"He deserves a penalty, it's so unfair."
"We cannot do anything against it. We tried to send FIA our proofs, but they already decided."
"Guys, guys, please stop." I replied emotionless, still upset from the result.
"No Kiara, it's unbelievable."
"Guys-."
"Did you see the footages?" Fred asked me, taking the word for the first time since I came back in the garage.
"Yes, I did, but-"
"No buts. It's not fair, he pushed you out of the track."
Every single member of the team didn't agree with the investigation but it was too late now. The podium celebrations were about to start, the race was more than over and I was out of points. I tried to explain everyone that maybe it was also my fault as we were racing too hard, that it was quite inevitable, but nobody cared to listen to me.
"Ok, ok, guys, slow down. Let's take a big breathe. It's unfair but when life isn't it? We tried our best, although all the problems we challenged in these past weeks. We know how hard we worked, how hard we tried and how good we've been in this race. Perfect strategy, good pace, great balance of the car, quick pit-stops. We did our best, they want to destroy our hard work? Ok, next time, we'll be better. Now the matter is: what should I say at these stupid interviews?!"
Everyone in the garage chuckled at my words and finally I was glad the tension was slowly releasing.
***
"Yeah, obviously I didn't want the crash but we were racing hard and this kind of things may happen-"
"If you didn't want to crash, you wouldn't have bumped into me."
His arrogant voice came out all of a sudden behind my back, interrupting my diplomatic answer to the journalist.
"Excuse me. What did you say?" I pretend to not have heard him, just to test him and see if for once, he has the guts to speak freely.
"You left me no space."
"You had half of the track on your right. You could have slow down and don't take the risk."
"Me slow down? So you could easily take the position? Formula 1 doesn't work like this, love."
The nickname was literally the icing on the cake.
Breathe: Inhale. Exhale. He's just provocating you, don't answer...
"Open your ears and listen me well, Norris. I know pretty well what Formula 1 is, no need to explain it. Maybe you should remember that sometimes contacts happened, and you know why? Stop your cockiness, it's a rhetoric question. Contacts happened when the two drivers are so full of adrenaline of the moments, so full of themselves, that would give away everything they have to take that position, without considering anymore the risks. That's what happened also today, at least in my opinion. Do you want to point the finger at me? Fine, do it, honestly I don't care. Congrats for the podium by the way."
I apologized myself to the reporter and left the media pen, without never turning back.
If he wanted to be an ass, I wouldn't play his game.