Swerve | 𝑷.𝑮.

Part 14

Bold is Radio Calls

Francesca let out a groan of annoyance as she pulled into the pit lane.

The first free practice session of the day had not gone her way, she had spun out after a lock-up but thankfully, only caused minor damage to the front wing of her car so she was able to get the car back to the pit lane to have the wing changed. But due to the spin, she had only been able to place herself in P6 for the session.

The second practice session had been difficult, Max seemed to be on fire even more than the last race two weeks before if it was possible and Francesca could not catch up to his speed.

"We still have time Fran, don't worry." Hugh's voice echoes down the radio.

"Its just frustrating." Francesca grumbles back in response.

"I know." Hugh sighs. "Don't let it get the best of you."

"You know I pride myself in not letting my emotions affect my racing, Hugh."

Hugh Bird chuckled from his place at the pit wall, turning to look over his shoulder to see his drivers car being pushed into the garage for a tyre change and a fuel up.

Francesca lifted her visor, reaching into her helmet with her gloved hands to wipe her eyes.

The familiar roar of Max's car followed by the sound of it being pushed into the garage next to hers made her attempt to see if she could make eye contact with her teammate, but with all the mechanics and the fact Max was looking in the opposite direction meant that it was impossible.

There was still a slight tension echoing through the garage because of the incident in Bahrain, the blatant favouritism towards Max was easily seen and it only made Francesca sigh.

Being given the green light to go, she pulled out of the garage and out of the pit lane, flipping her visor down before she got onto the track. Her out lap was slow, swerving when she could to gain temperature in her tyres whilst avoiding the fast laps out on track.

Christian Horner watched the pit wall closely as his driver crossed the line and shot off.

Francesca was fast and she had the capability of winning the championship - she had proved that for two years in a row now and even lead the championship for some of the season the year before. But being the teammate of a two-time world champion in a domination car was always hard.

Francesca knew that.

She just wanted to prove that she was completely capable of doing it herself.

She drove the track from memory, seeing cars on cool down laps or out laps swerving off the racing line to let her through, hitting apex's of corners almost on point and being seconds up from her previous lap. She could only grin cheekily to herself as she stole a purple sector one from her teammate.

She probably could've drove with her eyes closed she knew the track so well.

But she didn't, because that was stupid and dangerous.

"Good job, purple sector two as well."

"Copy."

She didn't let her focus drift, pushing down the feeling of frustration and anger that had been building in her body due to not being able to catch up with her teammate.

She didn't even register crossing the line until she'd slowed down.

"And P1, Fran, P1." Hugh informs her.

"FUCKING FINALLY!" Francesca shouts. "JESUS CHRIST THAT TOOK TO LONG!"

She moved off the racing line to allow the Williams of Alex Albon through and saw that the McLaren of Lando Norris did the same ahead of her.