"Phoebe, you have to do it for me," Pierre begged as we sat in the Red Bull lounge. It was just the two of us, he was holding a box of tissues in one hand and a handful of used tissues in the other. "There is no way I can go out there and race, not today."
"Absolument pas," I refused, my words coming out in French even though the majority of my conversation had been in English. "Mama would kill me."
My brother groaned before sneezing several times into the used tissues, when he looked back up at me I cringed when I saw how ill he actually was. There was snot hanging from his nose and his skin was pale.
"Fine," I got to my feet as I gave in to my twin brother. "Please don't tell Mama, I'll tell her once it's all over." I looked at my brother for reassurance who nodded at me.
"Thank you," he told me with a grin.
I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at him, "You owe me big."
"Name your price."
My eyes looked around the room, I had so many ideas but only one sprung to mind. I returned my gaze back to him, "Introduce me to Max."
"You've met Max," Pierre said flippantly as he relaxed into the sofa he was sitting on.
I rolled my eyes at his ignorance, "No," I sighed. "I mean really introduce me to Max." I tried to get him to understand what I meant but he just raised an eyebrow as he gave me a confused look. "Pour l'amour de Dieu!" I cried out in frustration, "I would like to go on a date with Max, help me out!"
Pierre's eyes widened, "But you're my sister."
"You better get your suit on," I winked in his direction before I turned away from him heading towards the door.
"Fine, fine!" He called out as I reached for the door handle. I turned back and looked at my brother who was getting to his feet, "Get me in the points tomorrow and I'll do it."
"Deal," I nodded knowing there was no way I was letting this opportunity slip through my fingers.
When race day arrived my stomach was knotted with nerves. Qualifying had been easy, it's easier to get a good qualifying time in a good car and when there is no one around. I wasn't going to complain about sitting in the sixth position on the starting line, I just had to keep it now, stay in the points, make my brother proud, get introduced to Max, easy.
Hopping into the car at the garage I was handed my helmet by my disapproving mother who shook her head at me. "I am not happy," she told me.
"It's all good mama," I smiled trying to stay positive. I knew why she was nervous, just two weekends ago Pierre had been in an accident on the track, his car hitting the barrier, he was fine, not even a cut or a bruise, just a damaged ego.
She leaned over and kissed my forehead, "Do not put yourself in danger." She warned before she left me there, she walked away before she could say any more.
Slipping my headphones into my ears, I adjusted my hair behind my chocolate ears then pulled my helmet over my head. I smiled to myself as I adjusted my visor, this was my lucky helmet from when I was a teenager, the helmet I used to wear when I raced my brother.
"Can you hear me?" I heard my brother's snivelling voice through the headphones I was wearing. I guess he still hadn't shifted that dreadful cold he was carrying.
"Fort et clair," I spoke in French to him. "Can you please get off my airways so I can listen to my music now?" I asked him as I laid my head back on the headrest. I had somehow managed to convince Pierre's team to swap my headphones to music when we weren't talking on the radio, I had even conducted a playlist ready for when I was on the road.
The technician gave the signal to move, I pressed on the steering wheel starting the car before leaving the pits, "Good luck out there." My brother spoke before he cut off and was replaced by the first track of my playlist.
Sitting on the start grid I got out the car, my helmet still on my head as I took a few steps around like the others. My eyes looked over to Max, he was sitting in his car in the second-place spot, he was talking to his team and his eyes were on the tablet in front of him.
"Phoebe," I heard a call, it was the unmistakable English accent of Martin Brundle as he came over a microphone in hand followed by a camera guy waving a massive camera around. "Can I get a few words?"
My eyes looked at the camera before glancing at Martin and giving him a small nod.
"Can you tell me how Pierre is doing?" He asked, of course, he would want to talk about my brother, I'm the one out here racing, surely it should have been me he was talking about.
I smiled anyway, "He's not feeling quite himself."
"So you were happy to step in?" He laughed as he held the microphone out for me to speak into.
"You could say that," I was polite enough as I spoke, I noticed my French accent was heavy as I talked to him though.
Martin grinned, "You're starting 6 on the grid, what do you think your chances are of getting in the top three to finish?"
I hadn't even thought about the possibility of being any higher than I was, I just wanted to make Pierre proud. I shrugged my shoulders, "Just finishing the race is a big must for me."
The start of the race was rocky, at the front of the grid was Sebastian and Max, behind them was Lewis and Valtteri followed by Charles and then me. When the lights changed Max was fast to get away, everyone else was slow so when I went forward I almost went into the back of Valtteri before swerving around him and finding myself behind Sebastian and Max, Lewis, Valterri and Charles behind me, not that I expected it to stay this way for long.
After a few turns, I found Lewis right behind me, he was adamant he was going to get past and all the defending I was doing to keep him behind was becoming tedious, to say the least. "Think of the prize at the end of the race," my brother's voice interrupted my music silencing it.
"Hey!" I spoke loudly, "Get off the airway."
I struggled to keep Lewis behind me, even after two laps I was still managing it somehow, somehow until his car went into the back of mine, the front of his car flipped mine, my car tumbling over and over with me inside. I watched as the world kept going upside down and back to normal again with each barrel roll I endured before finally, it stopped with the car upside down.
My heart was pounding, my ears were ringing, there was no music, there was nothing, the connection or signal must have dropped after all the rolls. "Hello?" I spoke to clarify there was nothing. My heart was pounding in my chest heavily as I realised that despite all the rolls and bashing about, I was okay.
Reaching for my seatbelt I pressed down on the button, my body falling forward and onto the ground below me, my helmet saving my head from smashing into the ground. "Fuck!" I cursed as I crawled from my spot and out of the car. Around the stadium I could hear cheers as I stumbled to my feet and held my hands up in the air, there was a smile on my face not that anyone else could see it.
I ripped my helmet off as I stood there, the medical crew rushing over and to me.
"Phoebe," I was handed a portable radio which I took before the paramedic looked me up and down examining my head and hands.
Pressing on the side of the radio I spoke into it, "Hello, Red Bull garage."
"Phoebe? Are you okay?" It was my mother's voice on the radio.
I laughed to myself before I pressed on it to talk again, "Never better, I promise, I am fine, mama."
"Are you hurt?" The paramedic asked me as he stood in front of me.
My mother's voice was still talking over the radio, I silenced it turning it off before I smiled at the man in front of me. "I think I'm alright."
I was taken in to be looked at, checked over by medical personnel to be on the safe side. I requested no visitors although when Christian Horner came along at the end of the race I didn't have much choice. I had been watching the end of the race on the screen in the medical bay waiting to see the results, Max finished second, in the end, losing out to Lewis.
"That was quite a tumble you took out there," Christian spoke kindly as he came over to me.
I nodded, "Tell me about it." I groaned as I sat up straight on the bed I was laying on top of, "I guess I have to speak to the stewards are some point?"
Christian sighed as he sat on the end of the bed and looked at me, "Don't worry about that for now, but, yes, you will need to at some point." Christian got back to his feet, "You have a couple of visitors waiting to see you."
"Please don't say one of them is my mother," I laughed as I laid my head back against the cold wall behind me.
He winked at me, "I'll keep her busy for a while. I think I might have something for her to sign, maybe."
"Thank you," I couldn't be dealing with her right now. I didn't need her coming in here saying she was right.
Once Christian left my brother entered the room with Max, Pierre came over and hugged me. "How are you feeling?"
I shrugged my shoulders, "I just want to get out of here now. Rest in the hotel room."
"What? With mama there?"
"Actually, you're right, I will stay here." I looked behind him and saw Max, I smiled at him. "Hi, Max."
He stepped forward next to my brother, "How are you okay after that crash?"
I exchanged a smile with my brother then returned my gaze to Max, "I guess it's just a French thing. One time when I was karting I had a head-on crash with a tree, the hospital said I should have broken my neck since I hit the tree with such force, I walked away with only a cut to my right leg where it jammed against the steering wheel."
Pierre laughed at the memory, he put his hand on Max's shoulder. "Phoebe should be on a show about miracle people." My brother smiled before he made a suggestion, "Maybe we should all go karting at some point, get a real race between you two?"
There he was, my brother, helping me out with the original task which I had to admit I kinda forgot about with all the commotion of the crash. I grinned as I realised the irony in it all, my brother was setting up some kind of get together which included karting after the crash that landed me here in this bed.
"You mean so I can beat you both?" I smirked as I crossed my arms over my chest.
"Bring it on," Max said as he sat on the end of my bed and looked at me. "I guess I'll just make sure you're 100 per cent before we race, we wouldn't want you saying that you are injured as to why you are going to lose."
"I like the sound of that."