Page 44 of The Fast Track

He chooses one of the doors and leads us in. “The engineers and strategists come here to analyze past races, but anyone can use the rooms as long as it’s not reserved.”

The couch sinks down like it’s made of cotton candy. I make a mental note to come back the next time I need a midday nap—these are far more comfortable than the nap pods in the employee relaxation area.

Dietrich takes the remote control and turns on the screen. There’s a menu of categories, seasons, and races to choose from. Much to my chagrin, he picks the first Formula 3 race of the current season, the race where I thought I could pull off a masterful overcut but wound up spinning like an Olympic figure skater instead.

Basically, fifty minutes I’ve done my best to excise from memory.

“Can we please watch anything but that? I promise I’ve learned my lesson already.”

Dietrich hits play. “Are you a driver or an ostrich? How are you going to stop repeating mistakes if you bury your head in the sand?”

I groan as the video starts. It’s worse than I remember.

You know how it’s always so awkward when you see yourself on film? LikeI didn’t know my nose looked like that. OrI didn’t know my voice sounded so annoying. OrWow, Mom was right; I shouldn’t have gotten bangs.

Rewatching an old race is like that times one hundred. There are cameras everywhere—positioned all along the side of the racetrack, embedded in curbs and trackside signs, even buzzing overhead for aerial drone shots. As a result, you can see every wobble, every under brake, every time you just miss the optimal racing line. On top of that, the races are commentated, so there are a couple of overly enthusiastic British men narrating every mistake you make in excruciating detail. (“OOH! Justine Kwong, who started this race with the highest grid position ever by a female F3 driver, in the GRAVEL! Now here’s the replay.”)

Dietrich insists on pausing at every mistake to give me pointers. He’s doling out some of the best advice I could ever hope to get, but it’s also humiliating to be so thoroughly lectured—dissected down to the millisecond—by someone you’re hoping to impress.

“There.” Dietrich hits pause again. “You are so fast when you are driving in the clear; no other driver in F3 this year is better at finding lines—”

Something warm swells up deep within me.Play it cool, I remind myself.Keep collected.

“—but you have zero wheel-to-wheel race craft. It’s a travesty.”

And we’re back.

“You can’t always torpedo into your opponents and pray. See that?” He gets up and puts his finger on the screen. “You have to be patient. Set up the move. There are three more overtaking spots ahead. You could have waited for any of them.”

Then he hits rewind and we have to watch my spin again. And again. And again.

“Seriously?” I sigh as Dietrich skips back once more. “We’ve watched this at least a million times now.”

“You think this is a lot? My father used to leave me at the petro station when I didn’t win so I could reflect.”

I swallow. We’re right back to where we were an hour ago when I was spewing random facts from Cameron’s A-level prep materials to distract Dietrich.

Dietrich also seems to realize this, if the faint flush spreading across his face is any indication.

I debate telling him at least he has a father who cares and bothered to stick around, but that only seems like it’d bring the mood lower than it already is.

“If it makes you feel better, my mom is a massive pain in the ass too.”

“I’ve heard the mechanics say she always knocks out their eardrums with screaming when you do well.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing—I wouldn’t expect any less from her.

“I think I would like that in a parent,” Dietrich continues with a rueful smile.

“Be careful what you wish for. I can’t even look at a chocolate bar without getting told off these days.”

“She is only helping you chase your dreams. If I told my father I wanted to do anything except racing…” His words drift off, but they stay with me.

Because he’s right. Mom is helping me go after my dreams. As annoyingly extra as she is, it’s all in the name of pursuing what I’ve spent years yearning for.

Yet another reason it would be a terrible idea to get into anything with Cameron.

“I know my life is a dream, even for F1 drivers,” Dietrich says. “But it just feels like someone else’s dream sometimes.”