Page 3 of Green Flag
StormSprint Staff.
He followed the words around my neck. Maybe he’d try to use it as a noose.
I’d surely miss the purple VIP lanyard and the unlimited pina coladas it supplied, but drinking on the job would give my dad an excuse to fire me.
No more tropical brain freeze for me.
He touched his own lanyard, lips parted.
As team director, he wouldn’t wear Ciclati merchandise, only the mandatory ID. Everyone else in the pit box wore shades of red and green, apart from a woman in a pink Ciclati top. Cute.
“What?” he asked, blinking.
For a man with a permanent glare, he was really trying on a new human skin today.
It was all a show for Ciclati.
Uncle Abbé — Dad’s best friend and the one who had offered me the job — grinned beside him. “Everly! Nice to have you on board.”
And, for my comedic value, he offered me a dark hand to shake. As if I hadn’t known him for ten years.
Dad blinked at the handshake. “On board?”
From behind his back, Abbé pulled out my new uniform: a red top with bold Ciclati and StormSprint logos. “Thought you’d like the red more than the green.”
I nodded and unfolded it. It was a bit baggy for my liking, but I could always tie the waist with a hairband. Cowgirl style.
“I’d prefer one like hers,” I said and nodded to the blonde girl in pink, talking to one of the other team members. She caught me looking and smiled.
“No can do on the grid, I’m afraid,” Abbé said. “Though I’m sure Livie can get you one for when you’re not working.”
Dad finally twigged. His mouth opened, though he wasn’t able to put his feelings into words — no surprise there — and instead went back to his factory settings: a frown.
“Everly, tell me you’re not—”
“Your new grid girl, Dad!” I said and slapped his arm with a bit more force than was friendly. “You did say if I dropped out of uni, I better get aproperjob.”
Seeing as he’d taken my dream job from me.
He didn’t consider being a grid girl a ‘proper job’, even if he hired them.
Every team across StormSprint had two grid girls, one for each racer of each division. They ran VIP tours, managed day-to-day logistics, held umbrellas over riders in all weather, and looked glamorous doing it.
I’d been expecting his disappointment. Lately, I almost relished it.
“You can go back to uni,” he urged, turning crimson with panic. “September starts just next week— you can pick up where you left off and—”
“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. I tried to keep it casual, but my heart was racing. I’d flunked my last term. Retaking the year was inevitable. If he found out… he’d tell Mum. Then Fia would know. I wanted to be a role model for my sister, not the failure I’d already become. “I signed a contract, didn’t I, Abbé? I’ve decided to take the year off.”
Abbé looked down at his feet as if Dad’s lethal glare had physically weakened him. “I didn’t realise you could go back to university.”
Now it wasn’t just warmth radiating from my father, it was fury. His breaths were strained.
“Livia can stand in,” my dad said, looking around behind him. “Livia!”
The blonde woman in pink looked up and walked over, her slides smacking against her feet, almost as loud as the mechanics tinkering with the bikes. “What’s up?” she asked with a hesitant glance at me and the top I clutched to my chest.
“You can stand in on the grid again, can’t you, Livia?”
