Are You Fast Enough? (F1:MV)

Chapter 1

'Okay Max, you've got P14. Good race.'
'Oh fuck.'
'Language, Max.'
'Sorry.'

Max pulled into the pit lane, and parked up in the garage. He didn't look at anyone. He didn't want to see anyone, or listen to them. He simply got up out of the car and lifted his helmet off. Christian approached him.

'Well done boy, that was a good race.' He praised. Max forced a smile and looked up at his boss, hiding his irritation.

'Thanks Boss.' He replied. When he left, he growled. Boy. He called him boy again. And he hated it. 'I'm seventeen fucking years old!' He thought. 'I'm no boy.' But something else was on his mind. Something much worse. He missed the points today, by a mile. His dad was going to kill him.

He walked down the hallway, down to his dressing room. Phew! He could finally shed this awful, scratchy race suit. He rolled it down his waist, and collapsed on the couch, his head in his hands. This had been the third race in a row where he had finished outside the points. He was sick of it. He sighed, shivering in anger. Then he heard a knock on the door.

'Come in.' Max replied. He wished he didn't. The door clicked open, and Max looked up to find the towering figure of his father, somewhat leering at him.

'What was that?' He snarled. Max shrugged. Jos grabbed his arm and roughly heaved him up. Max was staring at the floor.

'Look at me!' Max was stunned as he looked up. 'P14? With the two McLarens retiring? I'm ashamed of you son.'

'Dad, I-'

'No, I don't want to hear it. You really messed up. Badly. I'm severely disappointed in you, Max.'

Max stayed quiet as he watched his dad exit the room, and he jumped as the door was slammed. His eyes watered, but he trembled, trying hard not to let the tears overflow. He screamed. His howl echoed through the empty room. It was angry and passionate, but also full of frustration. He was fed up with his dad, and angry at himself. What his dad said did hurt him. But what hurt him more was the fact he was right. He was a disappointment. He knew he let everyone down.

His scream did not go unheard, however. Soon enough, Carlos entered the room.

'You okay man? You look...rough.' He said, sitting next to him. Max shook his head.

'No. No I'm not! I ended P14, my dad keeps giving me shit about everything, and no one wants to help me...'

'What do you mean, help you?'

'Like they do with you. The team give you advice and set up strategies.'

'They don't do that for you?'

'No, Christian and Franz think I'm some kind of child genius. They assume I can do everything myself. Even when I mess up, they put on a smile and praise me.'

'And that's a bad thing?'

'Yes! I just want to improve, I want to race without people treating me different because I'm young. The only person who doesn't constantly praise me is my dad. But he is never impressed.'

'Yeah that sucks. My dad is critical sometimes, although he can't say much. He was a rally driver.'

'Lucky. My dad doesn't even advise me, he just shouts at me. Hell, I think your dad has given me more advice than mine.'

'Wow. I'm sorry dude.' Carlos placed his arm around Max, calming him through his sobs.

'It's okay. You haven't done anything wrong. You're a good friend, Carlos.'

Carlos smiled. 'I used to be jealous of you, Max. All that attention on you, being the youngest F1 driver ever. But now I realise it's not all good. I hope it gets better.'

'Me too, Carlos. Me too.'

'Let's go hit the bar. A drink will help you feel better.'

'Carlos... I'm underage.'

'But you're Max Verstappen.'

Max grinned. 'Yeah, that's true.'

'Come on, let's get pissed. Maybe we can find some nice girls too...'

Max laughed. 'Alright, I'm going.'