Page 120 of Start Your Engines

I swipe lip balm on my chapped lips.

“He did not just do that,” I exclaim as Connor shakes hands with Niki and my dad. “Why are they not killing him?I’mgoing to bloody kill him.”

“It’s probably better that they get on than not,” Jacs says, wincing.

“Don’t be so damn reasonable.” Jacs raises her eyebrows, and her lips squeeze into a cheeky smile. “Fine. You make a lot of sense. Maybe I should go over there and give them time to apologise, but I don’t want to.”

I pout, and Jacs shakes her head and laughs.

“It’s time,” Macca shouts, shushing the busy garage. He turns up the music and hollers above it. “And in honour of the last race with the best boss…” He stares sheepishly at my dad.

“Say it, Macca,” Jacs demands.

Macca clears his throat loudly. “In honour of our great leader and majestic boss, we have three songs for today’s pre-race session, and they’re her power tunes and one of Connor’s, too.”

My eyes snap to Jacs, who holds her hands up. I glance at Connor, who grins at me.

The first bars of “The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac play from the stereo, and the garage cheers. The song used to be on a racing television show. For many of us, it was the soundtrack to the moments we fell in love with racing. Even the younger members of the team smile as it plays.

“It’s not the easiest song to dance to, so I’m speaking over some of it,” Macca announces.

“Get on the box,” Jacs shouts.

Macca grumbles but concedes once the garage starts chanting, “Box, box, box.”

“We don’t shout box unless we’re in a race!” Macca reaches into his pocket for notes. “I have words of wisdom to impart before we all smash this race and say goodbye to each other because many of us won’t stay if we don’t have our leader with us.”

After a couple of hushes, the garage is silent. I catch Dad’s eye but look away immediately. This wouldn’t have happened in his day. There were usually shouts and stress up until the last minute.

“As we all know, this year hasn’t been easy. First, we dealt with stroppy Dane and his crashes?—”

“Hey,” Connor interjects. He points at Macca, who laughs.

“And Antoine acted like a misogynistic, arrogant prick.” There are murmurs of agreement. “But while this was happening, we had our great lead mechanic, Jacs, and all of you improving cars and making them the beasts we have now.”

There are whoops and hollers amongst the team.

“But the glue in all of this was Senna. She worked more hours than most of us knew existed; she kept an eye on everything, ensuring we had the best conditions to excel while schmoozing investors and guaranteeing the cars were as perfect as possible. But she did something else. She respected our knowledge, cared about our lives, and made this a place where it was safe to have issues or mental health concerns, to get scared, and to miss those we leave at home to be part of this bonkers business of car racing. She loves cars and racing as much as us, but she cares about this family, too.”

There are more murmurs of agreement.

A tear brims at Macca’s eyes, and I rush over. He steps off the box briefly for a hug before resuming his place.

“And she made us a competitor. I’m not saying we weren’t before. But you brought something into the team we hadn’t had in a while.” Macca grips my hand tightly. “And no matter what happens, we will always have this moment when, against all odds, we brought fire, and we became a team people talked about for our spirit, fight, and ability. We love you, boss.”

I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, but the tears slip down regardless.

“Now shut up while we listen to the best bit of the song, and then we dance.”

The bridge of the song kicks in. Everyone stills, then cries, from the burliest of engineers to the grumbliest pit crew member to sweet Tawny. Jacs lets out a sob that surprises everyone, and I swear my dad and Niki have tears in their eyes as the song hits hard.

Thankfully, the next one is “The Man,” and everyone shimmies. My heart swells as the crew reminds me they’ve fought to be here in this moment, too.

“No sashaying?” Connor mouths from across the room, and I glare at him. His chuckle makes me shake my head and smile.

“Fine,” I shout, and I sashay over to him as everyone shouts along to the line about Leo in Saint-Tropez.

As the last beats of “Rebellion” by Arcade Fire, Connor’s race preparation song, play and everyone gathers in some form of calm, I give my last pre-race speech. We can’t get in the top six, but I finally believe that’s okay, because we’ll go off on a high no matter what.

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