Page 11 of Tipping Point

Third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

From here, it can be anything from one to three seconds before the lights turn green and the race starts. It’s never a set time, to keep it unpredictable.

The lights turn green.

I release the clutch paddle on the steering wheel and hit the throttle. We pull away, fast.

I’m thrown back in my seat as the engine roars. We bunch up, aggressively jostling to move up from our spot, focusing on precision, close, cars nearly touching. Smoke billows from tyres up front and sparks fly from the tar. Kenji’s car up ahead kisses the car in front of him and they spin out, those of us behind them missing them by inches as we fly past.

“P thirteen.” Erik says over the radio.

I’ve jumped two positions.

I’m not thinking. I am holding on to my anger to keep my hands steady.

My adrenaline spikes. We are approaching the first corner. Here’s where we all hold off on braking until the last possible second, hoping to gain an advantage.

When I finally relent and brake, the G force pulls me against the harness.

This is my last season.

The thought slips through while I’m trying not to think.

Everything I can do has been done. Everything that needs to happen is in place.

If I can’t race, then that’s it. I’ve done what I set out to do.

When this season ends, it’s over.

I have made sure there is no life for me after this.

Alejandro and Matthieu are in front of me, jostling each other. They race for Russell and Temporausch, respectively. They’re focused on each other and I’m blocked out.

I go wide. Cleanly.

I’m not thinking. I’m still clinging to my fury, but it’s getting hard.

With a screech of my tyres, I grapple with the wheel as I pass Alejandro.

Matthieu up ahead, pulls away easily.

“P twelve,” Erik says.

Matthieu will fuck up on bend thirteen. He’s always playing chicken, and he’s going to be too late on the brakes, wasting seconds trying to regain control of his car.

I open the throttle. If I can stay on his ass, I can take that advantage.

He pulls away too far and passes the car in front of him.

Callum Wright is now up ahead. He’s straggling. Usually he climbs positions fast and makes top five if not podium.

“Wright is having handling issues,” Erik comes on again. “If you can-”

“I got it.”