Melody of death | English Version | Charles Leclerc FF

seventeen ఌ

My alarm clock gently tore me out of the land of dreams the next morning. I almost threw my cell phone on the floor trying to put an end to the terror. I pulled the blanket over my head again in anger and hoped the next alarm clock would no longer ring. Suddenly someone tore the blanket off my body and I pinched my eyes in a pain. It was far too bright in this room and it hurt my eyes.

„Madame! Stand up!" ruled Ayla's energetic voice me. I just hummed something incomprehensible and groped my cell phone with my hand. 8:33!

„You know that we still have to get ready, prepare our things and have breakfast..." Ayla listed the to-do list. She had no idea how much it demotivated me. But when Charles crept into my head, the necessary motivation for life was there. I jumped out of bed and took a quick look out the window. The sun shone kindly and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. So there seem to be good weather conditions for today's qualifying.

Ayla was already clapping make-up in the face while I was just getting dressed. My outfit was a white light sweater with a round neckline. This one was belly-free, which I actually wear less, but somehow I had the strength to screw my self-doubt as far as my body is concerned today. I put on beige jeans with the sweater and a red bandana as a headgear.

Afterwards I picked out my make-up and only applied some concealer, powder, mascara, blush and lip gloss. My brown curly hair fell openly over my shoulders and would hopefully not get too hot for me later. Just because of the bandana on my head...

Satisfied, I looked at myself in the mirror in which Ayla suddenly appeared behind me. She leaned against me and wore her sunglasses far in front on her nose to look very sexy. "You look so great!" My best friend raved exaggerated and pretended to be sweating. I laughed embarrassed.

She raised her cell phone up and just screamed "Cheeeese!" I quickly grabbed my sunglasses and then smiled at the camera. She then put the picture in her Instagram story and then it was time to go down to the hotel café to have breakfast. My stomach growled, but I was so nervous about the day on the racetrack that I hardly had any appetite. In addition, I wanted to feel comfortable today, with something in my stomach it is difficult for me.

„Hmmm, what do I take?", thought Ayla out loud when she studied the recommendations on the blackboard. I just stood a little uninvolved and prayed inwardly that I would get away without breakfast.

„I have it! I take hash browns and a toast! Canadian breakfast is just nice.", Ayla moved forward to the checkout and placed her order. Then she turned to me. "And what do you eat?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not really hungry, I'm way too excited about the qualifying," I muttered carefully. Ayla frowned and examined me skeptically for a few seconds. "Excuse me? You don't want to eat anything? You know that we won't be able to eat for a long time," she hooked up and I nodded knowingly. "I know, but I puke when I eat something now," I lied and held on to my stomach as a simulation of my discomfort.

"Okay!" She nodded understandably and smiled at me encouragingly. Then she patted me on the shoulder briefly, "Then we don't want to annoy your stomach." I nodded violently and was so grateful to her at that moment. Ayla is an understanding person. She doesn't force me to eat all the time, unlike my parents. Unless she learns that I haven't eaten anything all day. But otherwise she accepts if I reject it and I really appreciate that.

While Ayla enjoyed her typical Canadian breakfast of fried potatoes (also called hash browns) and toast, we talked about today. We were both excited because it's our first F1 weekend. Ayla is much more familiar with this scene than I am. I will probably walk through the paddock like a small child. That could be embarrassing... But fortunately, Ayla is there as mental support. But also not all day, but only until 12 a.m. , after which she has to go to the home where, among other animals, the sick caribou is housed. Hopefully I'll be with Charles by then, so I'm not completely alone.

Around a quarter to ten, Ayla and I got our things out of our suite for the day and then sat down in the hotel lounge, where Sam wanted to wait for us. After five minutes of waiting, I recognized him with sunglasses on his nose in the entrance. He had found us immediately and approached us smiling. "Good morning you two. Are you all right?" he greeted us and only then reached out to Ayla's hand.

„Yes!" , we answered synchronously and had to laugh after. „And you?" , I asked back smiling. The joint man nodded as an answer. While we three changed a few words together we began our walk to the race track. The traffic was thankfully not very bad in the morning and also the walkways weren't too overcrowded. But in two or three hours, this might look different.

As announced by Sam, it took us just under ten minutes to get to the race site. There was a large kind of lock in front of the entrance. Sam handed us a small card in the form of a passport and explained to us that we should not lose it, as we can come here at any time this weekend. „If someone should control you, just show it. Charles already informed the responsible that you two belong to him or respectively belong to Ferrari this weekend.", added he while he was the first to slip through the lock. I also held my card under a scanner and was then able to push the steel pipes so that they rotated and I could enter. Ayla did it next to me and then hooked up with me. „There is the pit lane in the front behind the building. Please only go there if there is no training, qualifying or race. Otherwise it can be really dangerous," he pointed to what was in front of us. A huge building, which immediately stood out here in the middle of all the motorhomes. Since I had already studied a few things about the racetrack in general in my free time at home, I knew that the garages of the individual teams and rooms for Formula 1 employees and all media companies had to be located in this building.
Ayla and I nodded well and followed Sam.
„The street here is the Pit Lane," Sam explained when we reached the pit lane. „And the garages are called box. You will learn the rest over time," Sam turned to us briefly and grinned confidently.

„Yes, of course!" Ayla also whistled without hesitation and I nodded. Sam led us to the Ferrari boxes and headed exactly to the one with the number 16 and Charles' name over it. I discovered his car in the middle of the garage. All the engineers worked on it or looked at some statistics on computers. Most of them greeted us with a surprised look, although some were also quite absorbed in their work and did not pay any attention to us at all.

We turned around a few corners and then came out from behind the workshops. Here was another alley that was much wider than the Pit Lane. The many motorhomes of the teams were arranged like a city. I didn't think they could be so huge. Especially because they were all cumbersomely set up a few days ago. And that only for a few days, after that everything has to be dismantled again.

We headed straight for the Ferrari motorhome, which stood out clearly with the red color. It felt surreal to be standing here in the middle of the terrain of a Formula 1 racetrack. I would never have expected this a few weeks ago.

Sam pushed open the door of the Ferrari district and led us to a sofa seat. "You can spend some time here. I have to go up to a meeting. I'll be back in about half an hour. Don't build shit, yes?" Sam gave us a serious look.

"We won't!" Ayla laughed and planted herself on a couch with a grin. "I just trust you." with the words, the man left us alone and disappeared up the stairs seconds later. I did the same as Ayla and sat down on a couch that immediately felt comfortable. I took a deep breath in the air-conditioned air in here and looked around a little. Ayla and I were alone on the lower floor and it was spooky quiet. As quiet as I wouldn't have thought it could be here.