Page 26 of Crash Course Omega
Instead, I glide, keeping my gaze absolutely glued to Maddock like a turkey vulture on a carcass as he slows down.
My brow furrows as he crawls into pole position at the front of the grid, but he doesn’t stop.
Something’s going on. Cars are lining up behind him like soldiers, but he keeps edging forward over the front of the grid.
Suddenly, the mechanics who’re moving toward his car to help him out and celebrate, shout as his engine roars and he takes off.
“What the hell?” I murmur.
I get into my spot, instantly killing the engine and jumping out just as his tail disappears back out onto the track.
I run straight toward our panicking comms booth, where the strategy team is shouting orders. I'd already been looking forward to teasing Maddock in front of the broadcast press who wait for him, but this is ten times more important.
“What’s going on?” I say to Jacob as I fly into the tent, panting in the musty heat of my suit. “Why isn’t he coming back?”
Everyone’s running around as Jacob yells into the headset. If Maddock keeps driving, the FIA will disqualify him.
We need him to stop, or we’ll lose the whole thing.
I rip off my helmet and scan the mass of screens. He’s nearing at least 200kmph on the first straight, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to slow down.
“I don’t know; he’s gone dead on us.” Jacob looks as shocked as I am.
“Give me the mic,” I say, tearing out my earphones so I can grab the headset. I throw my helmet to Jacob as I slip it on.
“Maddock, what are you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t need to hear your voice right now,” he says with a shaky edge I don’t recognize.
“Dude, you just won Vegas. You came through in P1. You’re going to be the star of that podium. But you’re not getting that if you don’t come back and park up in pole position.”
He’s still silent on the other end of the line, but the monitor shows his car free-falling until he’s driving at 50kmph.
“Don’t you want to hold that trophy at last?” I ask him. “I’m so jealous of you right now. And the whole team is here waiting to congratulate you. You’re not gonna leave me all lonely up there, are you?” I say with a forced grin. “Because I'll damn well pick up that trophy in your place if you don't get your stubborn ass back here.”
“I’m not sure this is even real,” he replies so quietly I almost miss it.
“Well, come back and make it freaking real.”
He goes silent, and the tension keeps building around us. People are still cheering him as he goes round.
Jacob has left, and I see him hurtling toward a FIA official. We need to get this sorted and make sure Maddock keeps his first. For him, as well as the team.
“Just turn the car around and come back, okay? That trophy is waiting for you.”
My gloves creak as I clench my fingers. My shoulders hunch so hard they ache.
But the whole tent sighs with relief as we watch his awkward four-point turn to bring himself back to the grid.
People are going to go wild over photos of the cars lined up, with Maddock's car facing the rest of the competitors like he is still challenging them.
The entire team abandons the comm’s tent and runs to the grid.
“If he ends up making an idiot of himself in front of the cameras, I’m not letting him live it down,” Jacob growls as I catch up with him.
Cheers erupt among the crowd. I run toward Maddock, pulling him into a hug even though he’s always as prickly as a cactus.
What really puts me on edge is that he doesn’t push me off.
