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12 December, 2021
📍Abu Dhabi, The United Arab Emirates

Calina never thought a pre-race atmosphere could be so grim.

Normally, the energy was unmatched; team members laser-focused on the machines in front of them, drivers hyped to chase the adrenaline they got going three hundred kilometres-an-hour, everyone beyond excited for the grand spectacle that was Formula One.

The tension now, however, was palpable. It felt as though they were heading into a full-on warzone, and it made Calina downright dread the race ahead, no matter the outcome. She felt like she was going to puke any second.

All eyes were on the champion leaders: Max and Lewis, and Toto and Christian, both pairs standing face-to-face with the championship trophies in between them. Calina was placed on Lewis' side, standing behind and to his left, and as the instrumental of the UAE's anthem played around her, she couldn't seem to stay still. Nico was across, on Max's side, and a few positions down from her, having qualified sixth. Occasionally, he would send her firm looks, maybe in encouragement, or maybe telling her to stay fucking still, but the hard set of his jaw was clear as the late-evening sky above them, a display of his immense dissatisfaction.

"They're going to make it all a spectacle," Nico had said as the two of them had climbed onto the truck for the parade, his tone hushed to avoid other drivers hearing them. "I just know it. This is going to be like a game to them."

Calina had a feeling how this game would end. She had been guessing for a while now, contemplating on some of the most notable moments in the season: Spa, Zandvoort, Monza, Jeddah. Even then, amongst the energy on the grid that mirrored that of a funeral, she had a feeling, and for her own sanity, she willed herself to believe it couldn't be possibly true.

"Good God, this is fucking crazy," Calina muttered once she finally reached her trainer, pulling the cold vest off her body.

Lella slammed the lid of the cooler shut, grabbing the driver's hands and turning Calina so they were face-to-face.

"Forget this, okay?" Lella was firm, her tone more determined than Calina had ever heard. "You know your fucking goal. Bottas is five points ahead of you, and you are going to come out on top. Capito?"

Calina remained quiet, stunned by the sudden aggressiveness.

"Cazzo, Calina, mi capisci o no?"

"Yes!" Lella nodded, satisfied, and then pulled her into the tightest hug.

"Don't you care about them, okay? I know, it's going to be insane no matter what, but you focus on your race. Then, we can get them next year."

Calina nodded when they pulled apart, squeezing Lella's shoulders in thanks. Pulling on her helmet and settling into the car, everything fell away. The noises around her grew muffled, and Calina closed her eyes, basking in the peacefulness as Tobias did up her belts.

Peacefulness. Calina nearly laughed at the irony of it all. Nothing about this was peaceful.

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(P) You know you're free to go for it, Calì.

(C) I know. Just—I need to be smart about it. Let me go when I want, okay?

(P) You're the one driving the race, Calì. It's your call.

Calina had never felt so restless during a race. They were in the final laps, and she had been tailing Max for what felt like forever now. She wanted to pass him, just for jokes, and then defend until the end, make him finish in third.

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