Pitbabe S2, Chapter 15 pg3

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 15 pg3

   I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment before finally deciding to take off my glasses, placing them in their case and tucking it into the drawer. It felt a little strange, but at the same time, an indescribable sense of relief washed over me. I have no idea what kind of story this will kick off. All I know is that I don’t need them anymore.

   My identity… it’s finally time to cleanse the parts that aren’t necessary.

   

   WILLY:

   The white-and-blue race car has been circling the track for its fifth lap, moving so fast it’s almost impossible to follow with the naked eye. That’s why we use a specialized camera for recording race footage, which we later slow down to analyze the driver’s performance in detail. The parts they nailed, we keep; the parts that need tweaking, we see clearly. Back in the day, I’d have been one of the drivers out there on the track. But since I’m no longer a racer, I’ve taken on the role of assistant coach instead. And the driver under my watch? None other than North, the real-deal veteran of X-Hunter.

   While I was in Paris, I secretly kept tabs on North’s life. Of course, he had no idea, because I never revealed myself—never commented or even liked his videos. It might sound harsh, but I thought this was the best way to help him focus on being a racer.

   North might not realize it, but I figured out a long time ago that the main reason his racing career wasn’t going anywhere was me. I didn’t hate or fall out of love with racing—it’s still one of my passions—but the truth is, I’d been feeling burned out from training and competing for a while. North knew this, which is why he stuck to me like glue. If I didn’t want to train, he wouldn’t either. The reason was simple: he didn’t want me to feel left behind. So, North shifted his focus from racing to running a YouTube channel instead, because it was the only way we could spend time together at the track. But I knew deep down he still craved the thrill of the racetrack.

   When I told him I was going to study in Paris, North was incredibly supportive. He made everything seem so easy, even the goodbye wasn’t as scary as I’d imagined. I couldn’t help but be surprised at how mature he was about it. But after I’d settled into life in Paris for a bit, I got a message from Big Bro saying North was thinking about quitting racing.

   What started as a plan to keep contact minimal so he could focus on training turned into me meddling again, as usual. I had to spend three and a half hours on a transcontinental FaceTime call, shedding half a liter of tears, to figure out the real reason and convince him to chase his dream again. The main issue was that he felt sad every time he went to the track, trained, or even visited the garage. With a tone of embarrassment, North said, “I never thought the team without you would feel this lonely.” Hearing that, I almost wanted to book a flight back right then and there. But of course, that was a fleeting impulse. I have my dreams, and North has his. Our dreams diverging should make the journey more exciting, not cause one of our dreams to collapse like this.

   It was a bumpy road, but I finally managed to persuade North. I knew I might be overstepping by influencing his decision, but I didn’t want him to regret it later. So, I made him an offer: give racing one more month, pour his heart and soul into his dream one last time. If his feelings didn’t change, I wouldn’t hold him back. I’d respect his decision without any selfish excuses.

   A full month later, I got word from my brother that North had been promoted to the major league of racers. He sent a clip of North’s training, and the footage was so impressive I could hear Phii Babe’s voice faintly saying, “If he’s got this much talent, why didn’t he show it sooner?” Hearing that, I couldn’t help but feel proud for my friend. But at the same time, a voice echoed in my heart, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking: if I hadn’t dragged North down with my nonsense, he could’ve reached a level close to Phii Babe long ago. He wouldn’t have had to wait for me to escape all the way out here.

   I’ve always felt guilty about North, secretly thinking I’d never step foot here again. That is, until Phii Alan begged me. He said if I didn’t want to come back for team activities, at least come back as a Phii in the family. He wanted everyone together for the anniversary of Way’s death. Phii Alan’s words always melt the stubbornness in my heart. The old man has some kind of special power, different from what Phii Babe, Charlie, Jeff, or Way have. But to me, it’s the most enviable power. I think everyone on the team would agree. He just speaks simple words, and a warmth slowly wraps around you, pulling everyone back together. No matter how far apart our stories scatter us, in the end, we all come back because of Phii Alan.

   That’s why I had to channel my guilt into genuine support. Even if I’m not racing on the track anymore, what I can do is stand on the sidelines, watch him, note every detail that could improve his driving, and boost his confidence—at least to half the level I believe in him.

   “How was it?” North asked after stepping out of the car. He took off his helmet, then his gloves. I don’t think anyone’s ever told North how cool he looks doing that. His eyes still sparkled with the same lively excitement, but the air of seriousness around him made him effortlessly charismatic. “Better than last time?”

   “You improve every round,” I said, packing up the camera that had been working hard all day. This was North’s final practice round. Phii Alan had tightened the training schedule for all the racers after the team’s recent chaos. Unauthorized practice rounds made it hard to ensure the safety of both drivers and cars, plus the rule helped rein in overzealous types like Phii Babe and Dean. “You aiming to take down Phii Babe this year?”

   “Who hired you to hype me up?” North laughed, thinking my words were so exaggerated they sounded ridiculous.

   “I’m not hyping. I’m the observer; I report the truth.”

   “For real?”

   “Yeah,” I dragged out the word, annoyed. I don’t get why my words aren’t believable. “Your cornering’s sharper, you’re not lagging out of turns anymore, and your times are better.”

   “Wow,” North grinned, his eyes gleaming. “I’m thrilled.”

   “Well, it matches how hard you’ve been practicing.”

   “It’s the motivation, you know.”

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