𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢┃ Charles Leclerc┃

Chapter Five - The First Qualifiers

It was officially race weekend.

Race weekend.

Race.
Freaking.
Weekend.

It was safe to say that I was in a little bit of a nervous fluster.

My nerves had initially calmed down. After the party last weekend, despite the rather infuriating conversation with Christian Horner, I'd had a week full of success. I'd done many a media conference of which all went well; I'd discussed strategies and methods with Lando and Zak; I'd bonded well with my new race engineer, Jake. I'd even managed to FaceTime Dad and Evie, who both wished my all of the luck in the world.

And then I woke up that morning, and any shred of confidence that I had previously obtained had disintegrated entirely. I was not one to usually doubt my abilities. I knew that I was a good racer, a great one in fact, and I knew that I was capable of winning. But, these were seasoned Formula 1 drivers that I was due to compete against. Some of these racers were the ones I watched on the TV whilst I sat upon my father's lap, aged 7. That made me nervous.

I forced some breakfast down, feeling nauseous with nerves, but knowing that food was vital prior to racing for two hours. Lando had joined me eventually.

"Nervous?" He asked, sitting opposite me at my table in the hotel's restaurant.

I nodded, eyes wide and mouth full of a warm croissant. "How'd you guess?"

Lando gestured a hand to his neck and winced. "Looking a bit green around the gills."

I swallowed. "Brilliant."

"You're going to be fine, Ana." Lando pointed a fingertip against the tabletop, initiating his 'serious voice'. It made me chuckle. "Once you're out there, you'll forget about all the people who are in those cars. You'll only think about getting past the vehicles."

I dusted pastry crumbs from my lap. "I just don't want to step on anyone's toes. I mean, a few months ago, I was only a reserve. And now look."

"Yeah, Ana, there's a reason for that." Lando was sipping away at his cup of tea. Milk and two sugars. "Once you get into the car, you focus on nothing but finishing. Doesn't matter where, doesn't matter how. As long as you finish, you'll be fine."

I hummed curiously, shovelling yet another mini croissant in my mouth. "Suppose you're right."

Lando grinned like a child at Christmas. "Always am."

The qualifiers were due to start at 2pm. Both practice laps the previous day went well; I ended P9 in the first, and P7 in the second. The third had just occurred, and again I was P7.

I was hunched in the paddock, repeatedly signing caps, T-shirts and all other sorts of merch that had been passed on by fans through management. It felt strange, signing my name on people's belongings. I still struggled to adjust to the fact that people knew who I was now. That people were going to watch me in the grandstands, on the TV. Formula 2 was one thing, but the attention I was receiving since my Formula 1 debut was a whole new level. I mean, the pile of merchandise was already stacked high, and I hadn't even driven my first race yet...

"Hello." A familiar voice echoed throughout the paddock.

My focused head lifted from my signings, nose sore from the Sharpie fumes, and my eyebrows furrowed.

"Charles! What are you doing here? And by here I mean in the McLaren garage. You know full well that this will be in the papers tomorrow if the pap catches you. It'll be 'Leclerc transferring to McLaren whilst Ferrari is left in the dust!'" I chuckled at him.