Homesick | Charles Leclerc

68

The grid was a symphony of roaring engines and tense anticipation. The Spanish fans, fervent and passionate, painted the grandstands with the red and yellow of their nation's flag. They waved banners, shouted their support, and stomped their feet in rhythm. It was a cacophony of energy and excitement as the cars, including Alexandra's, completed their formation laps.

Lexi sat behind the wheel of her sleek racing machine, her fingers trembling slightly on the steering wheel. She had never qualified so low before, starting from the 16th position. Anxiety gripped her like a vise, and her heart pounded with a mix of fear and determination. She knew she had to make up ground quickly if she wanted to have a chance at a podium finish.

The seconds crawled by like hours as Lexi watched the lights on the grid, her focus narrowing to a laser-sharp point. Three red lights illuminated, one by one as if counting down the final moments before her destiny unfolded. The crowd's cheers reached a fever pitch, vibrating in her ears.

Then, with an abruptness that sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body, the lights extinguished. The race was on.

Lexi's reflexes kicked into overdrive as she pushed her foot hard on the accelerator, unleashing the power of her finely-tuned machine. The tires screeched in protest as she rocketed forward, leaving behind the drivers who had started next to her. Gasly, Ocon, Norris – all fell behind her, mere blurs in her peripheral vision.

Approaching the first turn, Lexi calculated her move carefully. She knew this was her chance to make up even more ground. With a swift maneuver, she outbraked Stroll, sliding past him on the inside of the corner. Her heart raced as she felt the rush of victory, even if it was just a small one.

But just ahead, George was proving to be a formidable obstacle. He fought like a lion to maintain his position, his car hugging the racing line. Lexi could practically hear the roar of his engine and the screeching of tires as they battled for supremacy.

As the first lap continued, Lexi clung to George's rear, her car's nose almost kissing his rear wing. The air shimmered with tension as they weaved through the twists and turns of the circuit, each moment bringing her closer to an opportunity to make her move.

The Spanish fans' cheers echoed in her ears, but Lexi was locked in her own world. She was a woman on a mission, determined to prove herself and her worth on the track. Every second counted, every inch of asphalt was precious. And as she trailed George, her eyes focused on the apex of the next turn, she knew that the race had only just begun.