Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

I hear Sophie before I see her. She yells at a guy to stop accosting her in the stands. Her vocab choices are something else, a testament to reading one too many classic novels.

She makes her way toward the seat next to mine and settles down. We look the same, twinning in Bandini polos and ear protection gear.

“What are you doing here? I thought you wanted to spend time in the pit.”

Nearby fans give us weird looks. I tug my hat lower on my face and pull down my sound-reducing earmuffs to hear her better.

She shrugs, picking up that trick from me. I nudge her in the ribs.

“Ouch. Fine. No need to get physical. Noah cornered me

earlier asking where you were.” She rubs her rib.

Did I hear her right? “And you ended up here how?”

“Noah forced me to, I guess so you’re not alone.”

It shocks me that he even cares.

“Did he say anything else?” I fiddle with the settings on my camera.

“He said, and I quote—” her voice drops lower to imitate Noah’s—“I didn’t know she was a fan of hiding. Let her know when I find her, she won’t like it. I was the champ at hide-and-seek growing up.”

“What? Seriously?” My voice screeches.

“No! That’s a terrible pick-up line. He’s better than that. I’m messing with you.” Her laugh fills the silence. She’s giving me a severe case of emotional whiplash today. “But there was some observable tension. I may conclude that he likes when you hang out on race days?”

“I didn’t think he cared if I was around on Sundays.”

Her eyes shine. “Hmm. I don’t know about that. Noah seemed agitated that you weren’t around earlier. At least enough to ask me about it.”

Announcers cut off our conversation, letting the crowd know the race will begin momentarily.

The crowd quiets down as red lights flash above the grid. Everyone holds their breath for the start of the race, electric energy charging the stands as race car engines rev. My heart beats along with the flashing signals above the grid. The moment the lights change, cars take off down the track toward the first turn. The Monaco Prix circuit can be unforgiving, especially if a driver makes an error, like under- or overestimating a speed during a curve.

Noah keeps his lead around the first bend, with my brother not far behind. Santiago’s car zooms past one of the straightaways before turning another tight corner. Liam and Jax compete against each other for the third position.

Monaco’s track seems unlike any other in the Prix schedule. Constricted roads keep cars compacted, not allowing much room for mistakes. Jax and Liam avoid a disastrous collision with each other at one of the turns. Pieces of metal fly as the cars graze one another, the sound of clanging metal against the ground ringing across the Prix. The crowd gasps as Jax’s car careens toward the side. He uses his momentum to get back on the track, narrowly avoiding a catastrophic crash.

Hums of the cars zipping across the pavement fill me with excitement as Noah and Santi pass us, completing their first lap. The crowd feels alive and energetic, chanting out the names of their favorite drivers while waving flags and signs in the air. My own body pulses with exhilaration as Sophie and I get up to cheer. Fans hang out on nearby balconies, overlooking the race from hotel rooms.

The smell of burning rubber fills my nose, a scent I’ve come to love during my time here.

Noah continues to fight for the lead with my brother. He remains defensive of his position, which makes it hard for Santi and others to get ahead of him. My brother tries to overtake him multiple times but can’t since the Monaco course makes it tough to rise up the ranks. Often, the position you start with is the one you end with as long as you don’t crash.

At one of the sharper turns, my brother tries to overtake Noah again. He does it sloppily, brushing Noah’s front wing, causing Noah’s car to fall behind. My brother secures the first-place position. Noah must be pissed because he detests when cars have contact with one another. The whole race turns out to be a messy one with shrapnel flying and cars colliding.

The crowd grows silent as Liam crashes into one of the barriers. His front tire flies off, and the severe damage makes him retire from the race early. He splays his hands against his helmet as the cameras pan over him. Sophie’s eyes cloud and her teeth chew on her bottom lip.

During one of the final laps, my brother lets down his defensive position enough for Noah to sneak up next to him. Their front wings drive side by side, almost touching, as they race down a straight together. They approach a narrow corner. I hold my breath, unable to look away as Noah accelerates while turning. His side tires lift from the ground, losing important contact and traction to turn. A dangerous move that pays off as his car surges past Santi’s, securing first place again. The crowd goes wild at the move Noah pulled, and I’m finding it hard to hide my bounce of excitement.

Noah ends up passing the finish line first. A checkered flag waves in the air, rustling against the wind. The fans eagerly cheer when they announce Noah as the winner of the Monaco Grand Prix. Sophie and I bounce up and down when my brother zooms past the finish line as the runner-up.

Bandini had a great racing day. They prove time and time again to be one of the strongest teams with Noah and Santi at the wheel, another race closer to winning the Constructors’ Championship.

Sophie and I wait with the masses while the drivers complete their victory lap. We end up leaving the stadium area once the guys start their usual press circuit.

We meet up with the Bandini team at the winners’ podium. Noah stands in the middle, with Santi and Jax at his sides. It fills me with happiness to see both of the Bandini boys getting along with one another, laughing at something going on between the three racers.