The Thursday before the race is absurdly sunny deep in the heart of Texas, even this late in the year. It’s almost too hot to think properly. Seulgi sits alone in her hotel room trying to concentrate on anything but the heat and it’s almost impossible. She thinks about Irene. Nothing in particular, just the thought of Irene, and that in and of itself is rather comforting. Then she thinks of what Yeri had said to her two weeks ago in Britain and suddenly she’s smiling and it takes a long time for her to stop.

She goes down to the Apex motorhome in the evening and puts in a couple last-minute laps on the sim but none of them are very good. Circuit of the Americas has never been her favourite track, nor Joy’s. When she’s finished she catches Wendy outside and waves her over. The smile on Wendy’s pale face is a slight unusual. ‘You’re looking very happy today,’ Seulgi says.

‘I’m just loving this weather, is all.’

‘Wish I could say the same. You’re not racing in it tomorrow.’

‘True,’ Wendy says, wincing into the dim dusklight. A cool wind blows hot air about and as in all forms of such heat breathing is more a task than a given. ‘You ready for tomorrow?’ she asks.

‘Not really. Well, as ready as I’ll be, I suppose.’

‘Were you on the sim?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And?’

Seulgi gives a curt shrug.

‘That bad, huh?’

‘Not really. Just not, you know, good. But COTA’s never been my track, so I’m not surprised. I just hope I can do well. How’s the car?’

Wendy makes a fifty-fifty gesture with her hand. ‘That doesn’t fill me with a whole lot of confidence,’ Seulgi says.

‘Sorry. It’s just, this new aero package we’ve got might not be as ready as we thought it was a couple weeks ago. That’s what I was coming to talk to you about, actually.’

‘What?’

‘Okay,’ Wendy says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. ‘So, the plan is to run the new aero on only one of the cars for practice and qualifying tomorrow. Just to see how it goes. And then if it’s good, as good as we hoped it to be, we’ll put it on the other one for Sunday.’

‘And if it isn’t?’

‘Then we won’t.’

‘What if it’s worse than the aero we’ve got now?’

Wendy just shakes her head.

‘You know you’re not allowed to remove new packages the day before a race, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Wendy says, ‘which is why we’re hoping it’s good. Because if it turns out worse than what we’ve already got, one of you two is out of luck this weekend.’

‘One of us,’ Seulgi says, and before Wendy can respond: ‘You mean me. I’m getting the new aero, aren’t I?’

‘Yeah. It was a team decision.’

‘Care to tell me why?’

‘You’re the faster of the two of you, that much is obvious. Probably even to Joy. Not to flatter you or anything, but yeah, the results speaks for themselves.’

‘We’re still close on points. Really close. One race could—’

‘Change it all. Yeah, I know. But it’s about pace, and your pace has been consistently better than hers pretty much all season long, excluding those bits where you, you know, crashed and stuff.’

‘Thanks.’

Wendy smiles. ‘So, the idea is we fit you with the new aero, and if it’s as good as we think it is, you’ll benefit the most from it. Which will then obviously benefit the team. And if it isn’t very good, well, you won’t struggle as much as Joy might.’

‘Does she know about this?’

‘I told her earlier,’ Wendy says. ‘She’s fine with it. She’s a lot more reasonable than you think.’

‘I never said anything.’

‘Yeah, but you were thinking it.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘Whatever. Anyway, I just figured I’d tell you before you got to the garage tomorrow, just so you don’t freak out when you see these new bargeboards and the altered rear wing and stuff. I thought it wouldn’t do any of us any good for you to turn up and be totally surprised by it.’

‘What if this new aero is just okay?’

‘Just okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says. ‘What if it’s not particularly good or bad?’

‘Well then.’

‘Well what?’

‘Well I guess you’ll just have to race a normal race then, won’t you?’

‘On a track I don’t like.’

‘There are lots of tracks you don’t like. You told me ages ago you didn’t really like Bahrain, and you still won it. On your debut, no less. Likes and dislikes don’t really matter. Well, I mean, they do, obviously, but yeah. You get the idea. Just go out there, race how you normally race, and win. Bring it home for the team. We’re so close to that Constructor’s trophy I can practically taste it.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Good,’ Wendy says. She turns around and they both catch sight of Irene stood by the back entrance of the hotel watching them with a sort of apprehensiveness through the dark. When Wendy turns back around again she’s got a smile on her face that’s almost mischievous.

‘What?’ Seulgi says.

‘Nothing. I’ll leave you two alone.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll catch you in the morning.’

Before Seulgi can say anything else she walks back towards the hotel and gives Irene a little wave as she goes past. For a moment Irene just stands there. Haloed in the dark like a silhouette of a person. Seulgi stares at her back. It’s as if every time Irene is there something in her brain is manifest that forbids her from thinking straight and she’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. All she knows is that aero packages and downforce upgrades and race updates aren’t on her mind any longer. It’s just: Irene, Irene, Irene.

She steps out into the dimly lit parkinglot and smiles at Seulgi and Seulgi smiles back without even realizing it. For a while they just stand there in front of the motorhome. Irene with her hands in the pocket of her jacket as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with them. ‘Didn’t know if I’d catch you out here,’ she says. ‘But you weren’t in your room, so I figured what the hell.’

‘Just thought I’d get some last-minute practice in.’

‘Oh. I mean, go ahead. If I’m stopping you, I can—’

‘No,’ Seulgi says, perhaps a slight too enthusiastic. ‘It’s alright. I’ve already done, like, an hour’s worth tonight. And if I’m not ready now, I won’t be ready tomorrow.’

‘Makes sense.’ She looks at Seulgi and Seulgi has to catch her breath. In the dark light she’s pale almost to a fault. Almost ethereal. She runs a hand through her hair and a stray strand falls in front of her face so gracefully it’s intoxicating. ‘You want to go for a walk or something?’ she says. ‘If you’re not busy.’

‘Sure. Yeah.’

They walk around the grounds of the hotel and out along the street and then back again. They don’t talk at all. The moon lies low against the distant clouds like a globular plaster skull and stars arc out of the night like satellites formed out of a dream and bleed away again to nothing. It takes a long time for Seulgi to work up the courage to ask even the simplest of questions. The stupidest of questions. ‘Are you ready for tomorrow?’ she says. ‘I mean, for racing. You know, because, I mean. Whatever. I don’t know.’

Irene’s laugh sets her at ease again. They’re stood by one of the low walls around the parkinglot. Irene runs a hand through her hair again in such a way that Seulgi thinks for a moment it might just be on purpose. ‘Are you?’ she asks.

‘Yeah. Kind of. I don’t really like COTA, though.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘Really?’

Irene nods.

‘But you’ve won it twice in a row.’

‘I know,’ Irene says. ‘Doesn’t mean I like it. Just means I’m fast, I guess.’

‘You’re fast on every track.’

‘I know.’ Then it’s that smile again. ‘If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be world champion, would I?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘I heard something about new updates for the Apex cars coming into this weekend.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

Seulgi squints her eyes in a way that has Irene laughing again. ‘Are you sure you didn’t come find me to ask me about the car?’ she says. ‘Thinking I’d just spill the beans to you on what we’re working on? Because I’m not going to. Sorry.’

‘I was just asking, is all. Is it a new rear wing?’

‘Can’t tell you that.’

‘New PU?’

‘It’s a secret.’

‘Aero package?’

‘Secret,’ Seulgi says with a giggle. The delicate tinge creeping across her cheeks isn’t with the cold. ‘What about you, anyway? Updates, I mean.’

‘Secret.’

‘Uh huh. Wendy told me the Samsung was the fastest a couple weeks ago.’

‘Maybe it is,’ Irene says. ‘But is that what you really want to talk about right now? Updates for the cars?’

‘You started it.’

‘Yeah, well.’

‘I thought you loved talking about racing. Like, more than anything.’

‘I do.’ Irene stuffs her hands into her pockets. ‘Just not right now.’

‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not good at small talk. Even with people I feel comfortable being around.’

‘Do you feel comfortable around me?’

‘Yeah,’ Irene says, perhaps with a little too much of Seulgi’s brand of accidental enthusiasm. Seulgi only smiles. It occurs to her standing there that she doesn’t know what to do in Irene’s presence. That nothing intelligent or interesting formulates itself at all. Just a sort of awkward gawping at how absurdly beautiful and calming she is. How great just being around her is. She takes her hands out of her pockets and scratches at her head and gives a lopsided smile. ‘I should get back,’ she says.

‘Yeah.’

‘Got an early start tomorrow.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘With practice, I mean.’

‘I know,’ Seulgi says with a smile. When Irene says goodbye a couple minutes later and disappears back into the hotel, she’s still smiling.

It’s precisely when she’s slowing for the hard left at turn eleven that she feels the back end slide a little more than usual. She has to fight to keep control and the rear is loose and it takes her a fraction longer than normal to get on the power accelerating out for the back straight again. The day is long and overcast and the sky like gunmetal and the crowd in the grandstand across the track look like daguerreotypes withered by an excess of time. ‘Wendy,’ she says at turn twelve. She cuts along the apex and the back presses down and the tires almost slip again.

‘Talk to me.’

‘Something’s not right. I can feel it.’

‘Is it the tires?’ Wendy says.

‘No, the tires are good. Smooth. I think it’s the new aero, you know. Maybe it’s the new wing. It feels like the back end’s kicking out every time I turn in. I don’t know, it just feels off.’

‘Just try and control it as best as you can for now.’

‘What do you think I’m doing?’ Seulgi says. Two laps later she feels it slip again on the first corner and the crowd gasp at her almost losing it. DRS propels her down the back straight and the corners come hard and fast like mirages birthed from the dark of the afternoon and crossing the line on her final lap of practice she pulls into the garage just behind Joy and climbs out before Wendy’s even said anything. The screen at the back runs through the session’s times and the look on Wendy’s face is a slight too concerned for Seulgi’s liking.

‘Well?’ Seulgi says. She takes a look at the times and winces. ‘. Sixth.’

‘Sixth isn’t bad.’

‘It’s not exactly good, either.’

‘It’s better than fourteen other cars.’

‘Yeah, sure. But it’s not better than either of the Samsungs, or the Renaults, or Joy. And it kind of needs to be.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s the new aero. I know it is. You were right, something feels off about it. I can’t explain it but it just feels stiff and loose at the same time, if that makes any sense. Like it won’t do what I want it to do in the rear.’

‘I know,’ Wendy says. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it now. Like you said, once the upgrades are on, they’re on for the whole weekend. No switching out at this point.’

‘So I’m stuck with it?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘What am I going to do?’

Wendy smiles a tired smile and pats her on the shoulder. ‘Do what you always do,’ she says. ‘Show them you’re the best at this.’

‘The best.’

‘Sure.’

‘What about—’

‘Nope. It’s definitely you.’

‘It’s going to be so much harder than usual.’

‘And you’ll rise to the challenge. I know you will.’ She puts a hand on Seulgi’s shoulder again and offers a faint smile. ‘Seriously. Stop worrying about things so much. You’ve got to get back that confidence you had in Bahrain. Or even Japan. What happened to that?’

‘It’s still there. It’s just, everything’s so new and different. First the rain, now these upgrades and the car feeling all off. I don’t know how to handle it.’

‘Just take it one step at a time. You’ve got to tell yourself you’re going to be fine or else you won’t be. Positivity is the first step. The second step is actually going out there and proving to the world you belong.’

Seulgi pulls her in for a hug in return. The truth is she’s heard variations of the same pep talk a hundred times before but there’s something in the way Wendy says it that reassures her every time. Perhaps it’s how much she believes in Seulgi or the way she speaks or something else but the reason is second to the outcome. And the outcome is that every time she opens Seulgi feels just that little bit better. ‘Thanks,’ she says.

‘Don’t mention it. You know where I am if you ever need to talk. Now go get some rest or something. I’ll see you for qualifying tomorrow.’

She spends most of the late afternoon in the sim room aboard the motorhome trying to get in that last bit of practice for qualifying in the morning. Her times aren’t great. They’re not even as good as they are in the real car and that’s a concern. She slides the car around turn fourteen and then the final turn and coasts across the line and a moment later somebody’s knocking at the bus door. It isn’t Wendy’s knock. It isn’t Joy’s either, and they’ve both keys. She turns off the console and opens the door to Irene with her hands in her jacket pockets and an awkward smile of apology on her face. ‘Wow,’ Seulgi says, squinting against the last of the light. The smoking sun spills against the rim of the world like bloodied ink.

‘What?’

‘I thought it was like four o’clock or something.’

Irene glances at her wristwatch and laughs to herself.

‘What time is it?’ Seulgi says.

‘Just gone eight.’

‘Jesus. How?’

‘I don’t know. You tell me. I’m not keeping you from something important, am I? Because I mean, I can go.’

‘No. It’s okay. I was just finishing anyway.’

She gives a little nod to Seulgi in response. ‘Last few laps?’ she asks.

‘Yeah.’

‘How’s it going?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.’

‘Keeping it close to your chest, I see.’

‘It’s a secret,’ Seulgi says with a smile. They stand awkwardly for a minute without saying anything. Seulgi with one hand on the bus door and Irene two steps below her on the tarmac wincing against the reflection on the chrome paintwork and both smiling. Irene looks about as if unsure of what to do. As if there might be someone else privy but the parkinglot is empty and the lights in the hotel static and nobody at the windows. ‘I just figured I’d ask if you wanted to grab lunch or something,’ she says.

‘Lunch.’

‘Sure.’

‘At this time?’

‘Dinner, then. Whatever.’

‘Still.’

‘Alright, an evening snack. Better?’

‘Better,’ Seulgi says, beaming. She grabs her coat and locks up the bus and they order steak and chips from the hotel’s restaurant and sit waiting at one of the far tables looking out across the street. Somewhere in the distance the broad crossbeam lights ringed about COTA glimmer in the dark like rows of sequins. The restaurant save a handful of people is empty. ‘Have you seen any of the others today?’ Seulgi says.

‘No. Just you.’

‘I wonder where they are.’

‘Probably getting ready for tomorrow.’

‘Like we should be?’

Irene with a smile: ‘You said it yourself, there’s not a lot more to do right now. If you’re not ready, you won’t be. Laps or no laps.’

‘Are you ready?’

‘Always. You?’

‘I guess,’ Seulgi says.

‘You don’t sound very confident.’

‘Wendy said the same thing earlier. I guess I’m just worried about the course, is all.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Irene says, and perhaps it’s the way she says it – the soothing lilt in her husky voice – or perhaps it’s something of Irene herself but it immediately puts Seulgi at ease in a way little else ever can. The waiters bring their food out ten minutes later and they eat quietly and toast to the weekend ahead of them. By the time they’ve finished it’s almost ten. Irene checks her watch. ‘We should probably get back,’ she says.

‘Yeah,’ says Seulgi, but neither of them moves for a long time.

The last session of practice on Saturday morning before qualifying isn’t great. On laps one and two she has to fight for grip and even when the tires are warmed on laps three and four the back end slips out in the tight corners more than usual and her times are rather poor. Wendy tells her it’s all going to be okay and Seulgi has to smile and nod and say yeah, I’m sure it will. But when qualifying starts and she pulls out onto the track in the cool hue of the afternoon the car feels no better, no sturdier. The crowd seem to realise something is off too. She finishes her outlap and hammers the accelerator coming onto the main straight and then Wendy’s in her ear again. ‘Okay,’ she mutters. ‘Here you go. Good luck.’

‘Thanks,’ Seulgi says. The first few turns are okay but on the tight left-hander at turn seven she brakes too early and locks up and the rear of the car wobbles in the middle of the track so violently Seulgi thinks for a moment she might spin. The gasp of the crowd is audible even from there.

‘Come on,’ Wendy says. ‘Keep it together.’

She tries but it isn’t easy. On the back straight she gives it everything she’s got. Even eight months into the season the speed makes her head spin. She coasts past one of the Mercedes on their outlap and watches the long silver figure evaporate in her periphery and then it’s her foot hard on the brakes for the tight corner at turn twelve. The car shudders to a near halt and she turns in much softer than usual and feathers the gas on the way out. It’s a mistake and she knows it the moment her foot is down. The back end is stable but only because she’s being too careful and the lack of speed is cooling the tires. She crosses the line and slows ready for the final lap and waits for Wendy but Wendy says nothing. She just lets her concentrate. At turn three she passes Joy on her outlap and breezes up past a couple other cars slowing for their final attempts and really gives it everything she has left. The crowd are on their feet in the grandstands. The glare of the sun on the sleek white nose looks like liquid paint running in the heat. At turn seven the static over the radio pulls her out of her trance for a moment.

‘Okay,’ Wendy says, ‘that was your best Sector 1 so far. Keep it up.’

It’s only the smallest of encouragements. Sector 1 is smoother than the rest of the track, the straight longer, the corners looser. It’s the second half she’s worried about. She tries every trick she knows but the car slides around turn ten and misses the next apex and again at turn twelve she slows too early and the brakes smoke and the tires rattle and everything feels so very wrong. The crowd are shouting and maybe it’s for her but maybe not. She smooths the last few corners and across the line and pulls back into the pitlane on her following lap to find Joy already getting ready to leave. The expression on her face is sour. Wendy’s isn’t much better.

‘I know,’ Seulgi says, fiddling with her helmet. ‘It wasn’t great.’

‘We knew it wouldn’t be. No worries. Like I said, new aero.’

‘At least now we know the answer to that question: It’s not good.’

‘Sorry, Seulgi.’

‘How did we do?’

She nods in the direction of the LED board at the back of the garage. It’s Irene and Yeri on the front row. Then it’s Joy and Jennie. In fifth it’s the other Renault and then Seulgi in sixth, the joint lowest she’s qualified all season. ‘,’ she mutters. ‘I’m sorry, Wendy.’

‘Don’t sweat it. It’s not your fault. You did the best you could, given the circumstances.’

‘Another front-row lockout for the Samsungs, though.’

‘Like I said, it’s not your fault. They had the better car this weekend.’

‘Seems to be a recurring theme.’

‘I’m sorry about the aero.’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says. ‘I’m sorry for losing so much time out there.’

Wendy offers her a faint smile of encouragement in return. ‘You’ve still got this,’ she says softly. ‘I believe in you. You can still win.’

‘From sixth?’

‘Of course.’

‘Maybe if it was against the Chamisuls or the Mercs. Or anybody except the Samsungs and the Renaults.’

‘Seulgi.’

She looks at Wendy and laughs. ‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘Confidence. Sorry.’

‘See? At least you’re learning.’ She glances at something over Seulgi’s shoulder and smiles again and pulls her in for a hug. ‘Go and get some rest. Sort your head out. The more ready you are for tomorrow, the better.’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says. ‘I’ll get right on that.’

She’s sat poking holes into her food when she first asks the question. ‘What’s your favourite ever race?’ she says.

Irene looks at her with amusement. ‘Where did that come from?’

‘Don’t know. Just figured I’d ask you. You’ve never told me before.’

She thinks about it for quite some time. It gives Seulgi ample opportunity to gawp at her like an infatuated teenager and it takes double the effort to stop. She squints and laughs at nothing in particular and smiles at Seulgi and says: ‘Belgium. 1998.’

‘Yeah?’

‘It has to be, really. Just for how insane it was.’

‘What part about it?’

‘Just all of it. I mean, first of all you have the weather. Like, that rain was ridiculous. Then you get that big crash on the first lap and four cars are out? How often does that happen anymore? Then they finally start it and you get the whole drama with Schumacher and Coulthard and the crash and Schumacher trying to fight him in the pits after. And then on top of that you get the controversy with the team orders and Hill’s win. Just crazy. I don’t think we’ll ever see anything like that in this sport again. It’s still so memorable.’

‘I can’t argue with that.’

‘What about you? What’s your favourite?’

‘I don’t know,’ Seulgi says. ‘I really don’t. Haven’t thought about my favourite all that much. Maybe the European GP, 1993.’

‘Senna,’ Irene says with a wistful smile. ‘The Lap of the Gods.’

‘That’s the one.’

‘There’ll never be another like him.’

Seulgi sips her water and dabs at her lips with one of the napkins. When she looks at Irene she thinks she might be alright with hearing her talk about motorsports for the rest of time. Something about her is just so pleasing. ‘I’ve got another question,’ Seulgi says.

‘Go on then.’

‘What’s your least favourite part about F1?’

‘Wow. I didn’t expect that.’

‘Caught you off-guard?’

‘A little. That’s a good one, though.’

‘Well?’

Irene thinks about it for a minute again. Then she shifts in her seat and says: ‘Honestly? I wish it was more of an even playing field.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I just feel like the divide between the top three teams and everyone else is ridiculous. I know why it happens, with the budgets and the management and stuff, but still. Us and you guys and Renault are so far ahead of everyone. Like, when I start a race in sixteenth place and then within ten laps I’m in the top six, it’s just, I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.’

‘You’d prefer more competition?’

‘Yeah. It’s just that sometimes I feel I’m not really proving myself as the best driver on the grid if I’ve also got the best car, you know?’

‘You are the best driver on the grid.’

‘I know,’ Irene says. She catches herself and looks at Seulgi and laughs in apology. ‘I mean, not to sound overconfident or anything, but I know that. I’m champ for a reason. I just wish I could prove it with an equal playing field. Like I said before, I thrive on competition. I think it’s better for everyone.’

‘Must be nice to win everything, though.’

‘You should know.’

‘What?’

‘You’ve won more this season than I ever won in my debut season. Bahrain, Japan, Britain. Probably one or two more.’

‘I doubt it,’ Seulgi says.

‘You shouldn’t. You’ve got to have—’

‘Confidence. Yeah, I know. Seems like every time I talk to someone they say the same thing to me.’

‘Because it’s true. You’ve proven you’ve got what it takes before. Now you just need to prove it again.’

‘Would you be mad if I beat you?’

The giggle that escapes Irene’s mouth is endearing to a fault. ‘Maybe a little,’ she says, ‘if I’m being honest. I like to win, you know? But if anyone was going to beat me, I’d prefer it to be you.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I mean it.’

‘Thanks,’ Seulgi says with a broad smile. ‘I won’t feel so bad after tomorrow now.’

The sound of the engines is like a metronome to her. The tick tick ticking of the exhaust notes. The crowd restless in the stands. Wendy and the other mechanics watching from somewhere in the garage. The first red light comes very suddenly on the board at the front of the grid and Seulgi’s foot is already on the gas. By the second light all twenty cars are building the revs. By the third light her hands are sweating against the wheel.

Four lights.

‘Okay,’ Wendy says. ‘Do your best.’

There are five cars in front of her and with the new aero package all five of them are better than her. The final light signals the board and her clammy hands grip the underneath of the wheel. A single bead of sweat slips down the side of her face. Then all the lights disappear and she’s away in a cloud of tiresmoke before anybody can even react.

She gets a decent start but all five cars in front of her start better. By the end of the straight they’re already pulling away. It isn’t until they’re slowing for the first corner that she sees the back-right tire on Yeri’s Samsung explode utterly in a hail of superheated rubber.

‘Oh my god,’ she says, too late to do anything but slam on the brakes and watch helpless. The back of Yeri's car veers wildly and the metal rim of the tire scrapes across the track in a hail of hot sparks. She collides with Joy first. The effect is like instant dominoes. They both go skittering into Jennie in the bright gold Renault and Yeri’s car spins again and the tail end clatters into Irene up ahead and knocks her flat across the gravel beyond the track. The impact looks almost unreal. The entire back of her car scoops up like it has no weight to it and flips forward and slides nosefirst through the gravel trap at sixty miles an hour. It flips again and a third time. By the time it comes to a stop what remains of the bodywork is lodged into the tire wall upside down and the entire car is smoking. Yeri and Joy slide violently across the track and come to a halt just beyond the corner and Jennie’s rear wing lies shattered in the middle of the track and the other Renault in fifth place tries to brake and brakes too late and slams into the side of Joy. The entire front half of the Renault disintegrates like plasterboard. Seulgi swerves to the right. Her foot is so hard on the brakes she thinks it might go through the floor of the car. Everything is black smoke and the smell of gasoline and the road is littered with bits of carbonfibre like shrapnel from a war.

‘Oh my god,’ Wendy mutters. ‘That’s it. That’s the red flag.’

Seulgi eases the car to the far side of the corner and cuts the engine immediately. The red flags are out already but she doesn’t even notice them. The other cars behind her disappear around the corner save one or two and the fire marshals are already seeing to the wreckage. ‘Stay in your car,’ Wendy says. ‘Just stay there.’

She climbs out and pulls off her helmet and tosses it into the gravel. Joy and Yeri are already out. Across the other side of the track Jennie gives one of the marshals a thumbs up but Seulgi doesn’t see it. Her heart feels like it might stop at any moment and her hands are trembling and she’s almost crying. What little is left of Irene’s car looks like no car at all. Lodged half aloft in the wall of safety tires like an old fossil slowly smouldering. One of the marshals gives her a signal that tells her to stay away and she ignores him completely. She isn’t thinking about what it might mean for her once the race begins again. She’s only thinking: Oh my god no. Please no.

Two of the marshals are already by the car. One of them bends down to peer into the crumpled shell of the chassis and gives a thumbs up but he’s wearing a helmet and the glare of the sun is too bright against the visor for Seulgi to see anything, any sort of reaction. Relief or terror or anything at all. Her hands are still shaking, a nervous pulsing that turns her cold. Even her sweat is cold. The car only has two wheels left. The entire front beyond the cockpit is buried into the rubber of the tires like a fossilized imprint and a thin plume of smoke rises coilwise out of the back of the engine port. She can smell the gas from ten feet away. One of the marshals spots her on the way over and holds up a hand as if to tell her to stay back and she ignores him. It isn’t until she’s four or five steps away from the car she notices Irene clambering out of the bottom of the upturned cockpit with her hands first.

One of the marshals helps her out and up from the gravel. She turns to him and gives him a thumbs up and the weight that leaves Seulgi’s shoulders instantly is so great it’s almost alarming. She doesn’t even realise her eyes are wet. The first thing Irene does is take off her helmet and toss it to the floor. The second thing she does is notice Seulgi coming over.

‘Oh my god,’ Seulgi says, trying to catch her breath. ‘Oh my god.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Seulgi.’

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Why are you out of your car?’

‘Are you hurt?’

‘I’m fine,’ Irene says. Seulgi looks at the car again. She wipes her eyes and looks at Irene as if might be a cruel dream but she’s real. ‘Why are you out of your car?’ Irene asks a second time.

‘I thought it was bad. I thought something might have happened.’

‘I’m fine. Really. Thank the engineers for that.’

‘I thought…’

I thought I might have lost you, she wants to say. I thought you were a goner.

Irene dusts herself down and thanks the marshals and looks at her car again. Or what remains of it amid the smoke and the stink of burning rubber from the tire wall. ‘Jesus,’ she says. ‘Damn it.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

She looks at Seulgi with the sort of concern that isn’t for herself when perhaps it should be. As if she hasn’t been in a near-fatal crash at all. ‘You shouldn’t have gotten out of your car,’ she says. ‘They’ll penalize you for it.’

‘I thought you might’ve been hurt. You looked like you took the worst of it.’

‘They’ve got other people for that.’

‘I just thought—’

‘I know,’ Irene says with a smile. ‘I’m okay.’

The race is postponed an hour to clear up the debris and remove the cars from the track. The first thing Wendy says to her when she completes one full lap and pulls the car into the garage and shuts off the engine is: ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Get out of your car.’

‘I was worried for her.’

‘Just her?’

‘What? No, obviously. But she had it worst. I thought it might’ve been really serious.’

‘You’re not a doctor, Seulgi. You should’ve stayed where you were.’

‘I know,’ Seulgi says. ‘Sorry. How bad is it?’

‘The marshals have given you a ten-place grid penalty.’

‘What? Are you serious?’

Wendy nods gravely. ‘You’re lucky, in a way.’

‘How am I lucky?’

‘Well, you would’ve started sixteenth, but all five cars ahead of you are out of the race now, so you’re only starting eleventh, technically speaking.’

‘Jesus. All five of them?’

‘Did you not see what happened?’

‘I saw the wheel on Yeri’s car go.’

Wendy nods again. ‘The whole car just went haywire apparently. Just one of those racing accidents. Guess you got lucky you qualified sixth.’

‘Guess so.’

‘You still shouldn’t have gotten out, though.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Wendy says. The smile on her face is small, reassuring. ‘I know you were worried about her.’

‘So what’s happening with the restart?’

‘I hate to say it because of the circumstances but you’ve got the best chance of winning now. It’s all fallen into your lap, with those five out. You’ve basically only got to cut through the midfield. Shouldn’t be too hard.’

‘I just wish it didn’t have to happen like this.’

‘I know. But sometimes fate is cruel and kind at the same time.’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says. ‘Guess so.’

It’s just as Wendy said it would be.

She starts from eleventh on the grid. The cars in front of her are the Chamisuls and the Ferraris and the Mercedes and the other cars much slower than hers and drivers nowhere near as talented. Irene and the others watch from the garage as she cuts through the midfield like nothing at all. By lap nine she’s already up into fourth. Lap thirteen and she’s in second. A lap later she’s half a second behind the Ferrari in first and DRS propels her forward in a brutal headwind that has her slipping past and into the lead with ease.

‘Okay,’ Wendy says in her ear. ‘Told you. Keep it up now.’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says. The words Irene said to her the night before weigh on her mind with every corner she takes. Just how good the Samsungs and the Apexes and even the Renaults are. She’s a better driver than everyone except Irene herself and the combination of car and driver is lethal. She pulls away a second a lap at minimum and the crowd watch her rabid in the cooling afternoon heat. She pulls so far ahead that by the time she pits on lap twenty-six for new soft tires she’s still in the lead as she comes out twenty seconds later. ‘This is it,’ says Wendy. ‘Should be a breeze.’

She thinks with every passing lap something catastrophic might happen to take her out of the race. A gearbox failure or perhaps the engine might explode but it never does. By lap forty-four she’s a good fifty seconds clear of second place. Lap fifty-one and it’s up to a minute. The crowd cheer her as she cruises by on lap fifty-five and weaves a little in the row to give them a show. One lap later she crosses the checkered flag to the adoration of the audience like a hero home from war. The first thing she does when she turns the car off in the garage is ask about Irene and the others.

‘They’re fine,’ Wendy says. ‘Still at the hospital.’

‘The hospital?’

‘Just routine checkups. It’s procedure, like in China.’

‘But they’re fine?’

‘Yeah. Go celebrate.’

It’s the only race in the season where only one Samsung or Apex or Renault is on the podium. Seulgi puts on a smile for the ceremony because it’s the polite thing to do. She smiles for the cameras and smiles through the champagne rain and when she’s handed the trophy and once more for the cameras at the end of it all. Then it’s back to the hotel for a long time spent worrying about things she shouldn’t worry about.

The knock at her door comes just before ten. She’s up before she knows it. It isn’t Wendy’s knock. Isn’t Joy’s either. It’s a knock she’s come to recognize, three gentle raps and a pause and then one more. She answers to Irene stood there in her black jacket with her hair pinned back and so very lovely in the dim light. ‘Hey,’ she says, hands in pockets.

‘Hey.’

‘Sorry if it’s a bad time. I just figured I’d come let you know I’m okay.’

‘It’s fine,’ Seulgi says with a smile. ‘Really. Thanks for telling me.’

‘Can I come in?’

She’s a little too enthusiastic to open the door wide and let Irene in but if Irene notices she doesn’t say anything. She stands by the end of the bed and looks at Seulgi almost with a curious hesitation. And her hands still in her pockets. As if doing anything else with them would be wrong. ‘What a day,’ she says.

‘Yeah.’

‘Congrats on the win, by the way.’

‘Thanks. Feels a bit hollow, though.’

Irene only nods. The less said the better.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. Honestly. I don’t know how, but I am. Those cars are miracle machines, really. Any other car and I probably would’ve been dead. Should’ve been dead. But those things come apart like Lego bricks. Guess that’s why they cost so much.’

‘I’m sorry for what happened.’

‘Me too, but it’s just one of those things that happens sometimes. Nothing anyone could do about it. I hope the others aren’t too pissed.’

‘I know Joy isn’t. Don’t know about the Renaults, though.’

‘They’ll be fine,’ Irene says with a wave. ‘Or should be. They know what this sport is like sometimes. If you haven’t crashed, you’re waiting to crash. Morbid as that might sound. But it’s just a rite of passage, really.’

‘When I saw your car go off the road, I thought—’

‘I know.’

‘Irene.’

‘I know,’ Irene says with a faint smile. ‘I’m okay.’

‘You scared me.’

‘Didn’t I just say I’m fine? A little shaken up, sure, but these things happen. You’ve just got to get up and get over them.’

Seulgi nods. The silence that follows is almost too hard to bear. ‘You shouldn’t have gotten out of your car today,’ Irene says.

‘I know. I still won, though.’

‘You shouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of racing.’

‘What?’

Irene is quiet for a lot longer than feels comfortable. Somewhere in the greater world a car horn sounds in a loud stinging blare. ‘I should head back,’ she says. ‘I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow with the team. A lot of stuff to sort out.’

‘Yeah,’ says Seulgi. ‘Thanks for coming to talk to me.’

‘It’s okay. Any time.’

‘Sorry for what happened today.’

‘It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.’

‘Still. Kind of ruined your race. And theirs, too.’

‘Like I said, happens.’ She offers a brighter smile again. ‘Besides,’ she says, ‘I’m still in the lead, win or no win. Maybe not by much, but yeah.’

‘We’ll see after Brazil.’

She smiles even wider and it sets Seulgi off. No longer is it visions of that white Samsung skittering off at turn one and flipping into the gravel. It’s just Irene and her gorgeous smile standing just in front of her. ‘Yeah,’ Irene says. ‘I guess we will.’