Hello! My name is Emily, I'm 20-something (but who's counting), and I have been on Tumblr for way longer than I should admit. I am a writer, a passionate history lover, a dedicated full time [and only kind of delusional] George Russell enthusiast, and an avid defender of both Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.
♡ GR63, LN4, OP81, AA23, CL16, PG10, MV33, NR6 ♡
♡ GR63 Masterlist | Main F1 Masterlist | Misc. Masterlist ♡
I DO NOT DO PART TWOS UNLESS SPECIFIED IN MY A/N.
Please do not ask for part twos unless it is actually paired with a thoughtful, polite, and genuine comment on my original. Please appreciate the original fic properly before demanding more. I am not a machine.
MY BLOG IS A 'WAG FREE ZONE'. PLEASE RESPECT THIS.
I will not be posting, reblogging, or talking about any current or past partners of the drivers, including answering asks that mention their names.
The only exception are the Lilies. Don't ask questions.
Current WIPs:
The Braking Point [GR63, Single Parent Karting Fic]
Members Only [GR63, Adult Film Star AU (m/m & m/f)]
The Way It Goes 🩵 [GR63, Slice of Life Blurbs]
"it's ok to show (x) in fiction as long as the bad guy gets punished!" the bad guy doesn't have to get punished. in fact the bad guy can win altogether. the bad guy can entirely get away with it. hope this helps
and this part might make some people's head explode but: characters can be written to forgive things you personally wouldn't ever forgive. not everything is written as what you'd perceive to be the right choice. not everything is a self-insert & protagonists don't have to be relatable.
Saw the reblog and yeah i finally get it why they call it a 'happy' trail, it sure made me happy from all the shit Mercedes is putting George thru 💔 (THEY DIDN'T CELEBRATE HIS FUCKING P2 WIN LIKE WTF-) *cries*
I know!!! All I kept thinking about was how TWIG FMC would be fuming lmaooo
The thing about a good character flaw is that it has to be the same thing as their greatest strength just turned up too high. the person who loves deeply and therefore controls. the person who sees everything and therefore trusts nothing. the person who is so loyal they lose themselves. there are no clean villains and no clean heroes and once you understand that in fiction you can't unsee it in people. everyone is just their best quality at the wrong volume.
↳ A/N After the previous chapter's "conversation", let's see how the weekend goes...
↳ Series Summary: As a single mother, Josefine is used to doing everything on her own. Leaving everything behind to chase her son's karting dreams in England, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to pushing him through the ranks, no matter the cost...even if it takes everything from her in the process. She knows that nothing is guaranteed and trust isn't easily won, and yet she comes to learn that the biggest lessons may not be found on the track but, rather, in the form of a retired Formula 1 driver and his daughter.
↳ Pairings: SingleDad!KartingCoach!George Russell x Single Mom!OC
↳ Chapter Word Count: 3586
In all honesty, the karting track was the last place Josefine really wanted to be that weekend, not with everything waiting for her there. It was a bit of a drive up to Northampton in the heat of the summer and bumper to bumper Friday traffic on the M1. The radio played quietly while Henrik rested his head against the passenger side window and stared out at the passing scenery for most of the drive. Josefine had a million things she wanted to say to him, to talk about, but none, she knew, would help if all he wanted to do was sit in silence.
She hoped, at least, that a busy race weekend would allow for a bit of a distraction from the turmoil that she had been feeling all week. Being forced back into close quarters with George and Ivy, buffered only by mechanics and other parents, all of them pretending things were normal. Like George had said, the weekend would be used to scope out if they needed to do anymore damage control for the kids. Hopefully, all would be well. She hoped he was right; that the kids were fine and that she was the problem for thinking otherwise.
The track was already bustling with parents and kids and crew alike under the summer sun. The moment Josefine parked and stepped out of the van, the air was alive with the familiar smells and sounds of a race weekend through the countryside breeze.
They had so much as barely unloaded their van before she and Henrik were approached by another mum in the parking lot. Henrik was holding onto his kart on the dolly, his backpack on and helmet bag in hand, standing close beside his mother as they were interrupted.
“Good morning!” the mum beamed, sunhat on, Kindle in hand—as if this weekend were for relaxing, not coaching, “How’s the two of you today?”
“It was nice to see you on the weekend for Ivy’s birthday. Lovely little party.”
There was nothing Josefine hated as much as small talk with a stranger but she humoured her politely, “George really went above and beyond.”
“He did. He is such a good dad.” the mum gushed. And then she was looking right at Henrik with that everpresent smile, “And so good of him to take Henrik under his wing like this. Not everyone would be so…generous.”
Josefine was quick to press back, “Henrik earned his place. George saw the talent in him.”
“Yes,” she looked back at Josefine, still with that smile that any adult could so easily read through the lines of, “I’m sure he saw quite a lot.”
At the woman’s subtle up-and-down glance, Josefine had had enough. She set a hand on Henrik’s back to usher him onwards and muttered to the lady with a curt, “Excuse us.”
Henrik stole another glance at the lady over his shoulder as they walked off.
The familiar purple and white tent was already set up in the pit area amongst dozens of others and, inside, George and Ivy and the mechanics were already hard at work. Right away, Henrik’s team of mechanics helped him get his kart set up to take a look at and polite ‘good mornings’ were shared amongst the team.
“How’re you feeling about this weekend, Henrik?” George asked lightheartedly as the boy set his backpack down on the table.
“Good,” was his simple answer.
“It should be sunny all weekend which is a great help.”
Josefine set their last two bags down on the table too and started to unpack their necessities. It wasn’t lost on her the way Ivy was standing so close at George’s side that you might have mistaken her for his shadow. She hadn’t uttered a word since they arrived but she was certainly watching, observing.
Even as the practice day progressed, Ivy followed in George’s footsteps like she was a security guard, refusing to let him out of arm’s reach for even a second. He didn’t seem to mind—or notice—as she had a way of managing to stay out of his way enough that she wasn’t a bother. She had perfected the art of predicting his next move. Josefine was almost impressed if it wasn’t a little concerning. She wished she could turn off her psychotherapist mind. It was hard when she knew it wasn’t her place to speak on it, and yet it also partially affected her and her son at the same time.
George would be leaning over Henrik’s kart to adjust something and Ivy would be right beside him, peering into it too, already with a wrench in hand to pass over before he could even ask. Henrik—a half step behind them—would only receive a proud smirk from Ivy when she did such things.
Josefine didn’t need to be directly involved to notice. As an outsider, watching from her spot at the table, she was privy to plenty. How George went about his usual routine despite Ivy’s closeness, how she was plastering on obedient smiles and sweet words to her father, how Henrik was on the receiving end of her smug glances when George’s back was turned. Even when Henrik tried to engage with Ivy to ask her a question or try to be friendly, she would simply turn her back to him like he wasn’t even there.
Through Friday and Saturday, between practice sessions and Heats and snack breaks, it was the same routine. Josefine could see that from George’s Ivy-biased perspective, she looked well-behaved and fine. But it was the glances between the lines—the small actions when his back was turned—that spoke far more about her internalized thoughts than anything he could see.
As they reviewed the results as a team on Saturday afternoon to prepare for Sunday, Ivy was taking her notes in her old notebook. With all the pages filled, she ended up having to cram her handwriting into the margins, desperate to keep using this notebook. While George spoke to them, Henrik was paying more attention to the way she was now writing away on the inside cover of her book as if to prove a point.
While George was momentarily pulled away by one of the mechanics, Henrik leaned over to Ivy “If you need a new notebook—”
“I don’t,” she said simply, matter-of-factly, without looking at him, “I like this one.”
“But it’s full.”
He was met with no response. He slumped back in his chair.
Through their end-of-day review, Ivy was the picture of politeness under the eye of her father. She didn’t interrupt or argue, even when given feedback or when she had an alternative opinion, keeping herself perfectly composed.
It was enough to earn her a proud praise from her father during packdown that both Josefine and Henrik picked up on. A small squeeze of her shoulder and a kiss to her head and a smile, “See? This is what I like to see—good attitude this weekend.”
By Sunday, it was the same routine. Midday, Henrik was sitting at the table in the tent, chin in hand, lunch untouched on the table beside him, while George and Ivy were touching base with her mechanics across the tent. Josefine slid into the folding chair across from him and he didn’t even glance up.
“My boy…” she said softly, reaching out to brush his shaggy blonde fringe out of his face, “What is the matter?”
Henrik raised his eyes to meet hers from across the table and he just shrugged.
“You have not been yourself all weekend.”
He deflected casually, “I’m driving good.”
“Yes, you are. But off the track, you are acting different. Upset.”
Henrik turned his eyes back to his untouched lunch with a mumbled, “I’m fine.”
“You say that, but I know there is something on your heart,” Josefine whispered, just for them, “You can talk to me.”
Henrik sighed and dropped his hand from his face to pick up his fork instead and he nudged some of his food around his plate, “It’s just…”
Josefine held her breath, not wanting to rush him, or to risk spooking him like a frightened animal. Patience was always a virtue.
Except only a second later, he shrugged again, relenting with a mumbled, “It’s nothing.”
“Henrik…” Josefine started with a concerned sigh.
Just then, from across the tent, George called out, “Henrik! Ready for debrief?”
Without another word or glance to his mother, Henrik grabbed his notebook, and trudged across the tent to join George and Ivy. Josefine trailed after him, always part of the debriefs to follow Henrik’s progress, and pulled up a chair to their little group. When she did, Ivy scooted her chair a careful inch closer to George’s side, just enough to assert herself.
George had two clipboards in hand, one for each kid, with all of the lap times and sessions results from that weekend thus far. They went through each session together, recapping strengths and weaknesses and what to focus on during the race. Ivy kept going wide at turn seven, Henrik was losing a bit of time in sector two.
“How do I get more time?” Henrik asked, “I’ve been tightening my racing line.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. Your time has been improving over the weekend which we love to see,” George replied, “Sector two has a lot of direction changes—stay steady, hug the apexes, and don’t cover extra track unless you’re defending.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Ivy added with a hint of arrogance in her voice, as if she, too, were Henrik’s coach.
“That’s good, Poppet. Help each other out.” George encouraged.
“And I only have to stop going so tight into turn seven,” she declared.
“Right. We don’t want you to let up on the throttle too much so keep yourself just a smidge wider to keep from losing the kart.”
“Yes. Because I’m already very quick otherwise. In all sectors.”
“You are,” George responded haphazardly as he flipped another page on the clipboard. With him momentarily distracted, Ivy shot a smirk at Henrik, half-teasing, half-smug.
The debrief progressed quickly. After two full days at that track, they had already covered quite a bit. It was good weather and the karts were running smoothly and both Ivy and Henrik were starting on the front row; it looked to be a promising day.
George wrapped up the debrief with a final thought, “Watch your teammate and cover your blind spots. There are a lot of tight corners at this track as we’ve discussed so be extra aware of other drivers around you. And have fun, right?”
Ivy hopped up from her chair, already moving to grab her helmet with a chipper, “You’re always right, Daddy!”
Henrik, on the other hand, rose from his seat with a polite and simple, “Thank you.”
George gave him a quick shoulder pat as he drifted past.
Josefine reached out to Ivy, “Ivy, did you want me to do your braids for you?”
Ivy answered without even a second glance, as if she wasn’t even there, “No, thank you.”
And then she was yanking on her helmet and rushing past her after George. Josefine’s eyes trailed her for a moment, a heavy feeling in her chest settling. It felt as if all the work she had put into trying to bridge that gap to Ivy, to get in her good books, was all being undone.
Once they were called to the grid, the team started to head down to the starting line together, towing karts and equipment. The kids walked ahead with their mechanics while George and Josefine fell into step together just behind.
“We haven’t had a proper moment to talk, really,” he said casually, hands tucked in his pockets.
“No, seems not,” Josefine replied.
“How are you doing?”
“I am…alright. Everything still feels…unsettled.”
George stole a glance at her for only a second before looking back ahead towards the kids, “Really? I thought things were looking up. Ivy’s been in surprisingly good spirits this weekend.”
Josefine knew it wasn’t the time or place to get into it so she just pulled a tight-lipped smile and let him get pulled away by his daughter calling him over with haughty demand. So Josefine turned her attention to her son who was already in his kart and staring across the track to the viewing area where most of the parents were already gathered and awaiting the race start. When she approached, he tore his gaze from the crowd up to her instead, her body shielding the sun from his eyes.
She crouched in front of him so he could hear her through the noise of the starting grid, “All set?”
Henrik nodded, holding out a hand so she could help him tug his gloves on properly.
“Head down, shut out any noise, and just have fun, right?” she said earnestly, staring into his sweet eyes through the open visor.
“And don’t take all the track in sector two.”
Josefine smiled softly and gently tapped the side of his helmet three times before offering out her fist. Henrik bumped his against hers.
“Good luck, my boy.”
“Takk, Mamma.”
Joining the other parents in the spectator area, Josefine watched George give his drivers final words of encouragement before heading off the grid for the race. While waiting for him, Josefine watched Henrik glance at Ivy, who was just half a kart length ahead in P1. She didn’t look back. Instead, she adjusted in her seat, flexed her hands on the wheel, and tapped the throttle to edge forward, angling her kart toward Henrik’s in a snide attempt to intimidate him. Henrik snapped his visor shut.
George appeared beside her and joined her at the fence, “A 1-2 finish would be ideal for us this weekend. Heaps of points.”
“Mm,” Josefine agreed, “Especially for Ivy after last weekend’s troubles.”
“Would certainly even their playing field a bit more, that’s true.”
As George observed the start of the formation lap, Josefine felt like she was being watched. She stole a glance to her right where a trio of other parents were staring at them. When she caught them, they just smiled and looked away. Josefine turned back to the track and shifted her weight, leaning her forearms onto the railing with a sigh.
The revs of the karts echoed louder through the summer air as the first lap of the race began and the kids took off at full speed down the main straight. Ivy and Henrik were neck and neck, battling closely but fairly for the first few laps. It was enough to cause George and Josefine to react out loud with every close call, every overtake attempt or brave defence. One time, Henrik even managed to get past her but Ivy scooped the place right back from him into the next turn.
It almost felt like there were no other kids on track with how intensely Ivy and Henrik were battling right at the front. Almost nothing else was worth watching. The time was counting down, laps going by one by one. Ivy was holding her own but Henrik hadn’t let her out of his striking distance.
By lap ten, they had crossed into sector two neck and neck, almost side by side for the first turn before they approached turn seven. Henrik stayed tight to the racing line, managing to hold the inside while Ivy went a little too wide. Both were heavy on the throttle, refusing to break first, stubborn and competitive and not backing down. From the distance the stands were at, not much could be seen, and both George and Josefine rose onto their toes as if to get a clearer view.
Except the next thing they knew, somehow, the karts collided and both went spinning out onto the grass and hit the barrier at impressive speeds. Josefine gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. Beside her, George had his hands at the back of his neck in a mix of exasperation and concern, watching carefully as all of the other drivers zipped right past them. On the timing tower displayed beside the start-finish line, RUS and NES dropped to the very bottom.
Henrik was desperately trying to will his kart out of the grass, the wheels spinning but not gripping enough. Ivy, on the other hand, had already given up, pushing herself out of her kart and giving it a frustrated kick before plopping herself onto the barrier to wait for the marshals.
“Fucking hell,” George muttered, already turning to head towards parc ferme where the marshals would bring them.
Josefine followed closely after him, ignoring the whispers of the other parents as they passed by.
Their priority, first and foremost, was to make sure their children were okay. Their karts could be dealt with later. The moment the marshals brought Ivy and Henrik safely off the track, their parents rushed to their sides.
Josefine took Henrik’s helmet in her hands and leaned down, peering into his open visor, asking hurriedly, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, Mamma,” Henrik grumbled and pushed her hands away to head back towards their tent.
Only a step away, at the same time, George was checking on Ivy as she yanked off her gloves and helmet, “You alright, Poppet?”
“No! I’m not!” Ivy shoved her helmet at him and stormed past him, right towards Henrik. She was approaching from behind him and shoved his shoulder, making him stumble, “What was that?! Idiot! You took me out!”
Henrik didn’t stop walking as he yanked off his own helmet. He didn’t even turn to look at her, calling over his shoulder as he continued his brisk walk back to the tent, “You took us out. You went wide again and I was overtaking on the inside.”
Josefine and George hurried after them, already anticipating damage control that would come with the drop of adrenaline and a tough to swallow race. A DNF for both of them—brutal for their standings this season.
Ivy broke into a bit of a run to get herself beside Henrik so she could shout right at him, “You moved under braking! I was so far in front of you…did you not use your eyes?”
Henrik stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his expression uncharacteristically angry—cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed. Josefine had never seen as angry as that. Then he was pointing a finger at Ivy and snapping right back, “No, you moved under braking trying to defend too much! You cut right into me!”
She threw her hands out, “I did not! I was ahead at the apex! It was mine.”
“Whatever,” Henrik snapped, turning away and heading for the tent.
George called out from a few steps behind them, “Enough, both of you! It’s racing—incidents happen. We’ll go over it later, properly. Right now, I need you to cool off.”
But his coaching demands fell on deaf ears. Henrik had just reached the tent when Ivy jumped in again:
“You just can’t stand seeing me beat you. You’re so selfish now, ever since Daddy felt bad for you and gave you all this.”
Henrik whipped around to face her in utter disbelief beyond his years, “Since he felt bad for me?”
“Yeah!”
Josefine and George caught up to them and right away tried to get some space between them. Josefine reached Henrik first, a firm hand to his chest to stop him from stepping forward, while George caught Ivy by the arm and pulled her back to his side. Ivy, still burning with adrenaline, tried to yank her arm free. Although Henrik stayed rooted in place, his expression tight with barely restrained anger, a storm of emotion on his young face.
“Well, you—” Henrik stopped, breath catching as he forced himself to swallow the rest. As if he caught himself from saying something he might regret.
But Ivy wasn’t done. She threw in one more punch, her voice shrill and desperate to hurt, “You wouldn’t even be here winning races if it wasn’t for my dad’s money!”
And then Henrik snapped. Meeting her intensity, he shouted back, “It’s not like he’s even your real dad!”
The second those words left Henrik’s mouth, it was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been dumped over Josefine. Everything slowed.
Henrik’s hand pressed to his mouth as if he were taken aback by the words he had just uttered. Ivy’s expression melted from its angry scowl into pure shock and confusion. Instantly, she turned to George, who was just a step behind them, as if searching for confirmation. He, too, was frozen in place, stricken in shock, unable to formulate a reply.
His hesitation told her everything.
Ivy’s face flickered and she let out the tiniest huff as if choking back tears before she ran off towards the parking lot.
Then George turned from where he had watched his daughter run, and looked at Josefine. The look on his face nearly brought her to her knees. It was nothing but hurt. A solemn, disbelieving, expression of pain settled heavy across his features, dulling the blue of his eyes. He didn’t utter a single word, but the single look said more than enough.
He only looked at her for a second, but it felt like an agonizing lifetime. Forcing her to face the horrifying reality that they now stood in, the position she had put him in. Then George turned and stalked after Ivy.
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does anyone want to be mad again? unfortunately i have given you no choice (you can skip pass this if you want btw)
left is torger's statement after canada george dnf; right is torger's statement after barcelona kimi dnf
as we already know, if it's related to george the personal pronoun "he" is used, trying to imply a more personal problem. however, when kimi dnf it's a "we" problem, which is a more collective pronoun, implying the whole team would take responsibility for it. i should mention that BOTH are power unit failures which is out of the driver's control (we know merc PUs have a massive reliability problem) yet such different framing of similar situations.
another point: look at the parts i underlined. if george dnf, it is HIM who needs to bounce back. but if it's kimi dnf, it's we will investigate this problem immediately. if it's george, he doesn't deserve for the team to work "flat out". only once the dnf hits kimi then you realise there is a "reliability" issue even though ALL your other customer teams already had said issues.
last note: they could have edited the article if they wanted but they clearly don't care as i literally just took these screenshots. the fact that this passed the vetting of merc pr lmao.
↳ A/N After the previous chapter's "conversation", let's see how the weekend goes...
↳ Series Summary: As a single mother, Josefine is used to doing everything on her own. Leaving everything behind to chase her son's karting dreams in England, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to pushing him through the ranks, no matter the cost...even if it takes everything from her in the process. She knows that nothing is guaranteed and trust isn't easily won, and yet she comes to learn that the biggest lessons may not be found on the track but, rather, in the form of a retired Formula 1 driver and his daughter.
↳ Pairings: SingleDad!KartingCoach!George Russell x Single Mom!OC
↳ Chapter Word Count: 3586
In all honesty, the karting track was the last place Josefine really wanted to be that weekend, not with everything waiting for her there. It was a bit of a drive up to Northampton in the heat of the summer and bumper to bumper Friday traffic on the M1. The radio played quietly while Henrik rested his head against the passenger side window and stared out at the passing scenery for most of the drive. Josefine had a million things she wanted to say to him, to talk about, but none, she knew, would help if all he wanted to do was sit in silence.
She hoped, at least, that a busy race weekend would allow for a bit of a distraction from the turmoil that she had been feeling all week. Being forced back into close quarters with George and Ivy, buffered only by mechanics and other parents, all of them pretending things were normal. Like George had said, the weekend would be used to scope out if they needed to do anymore damage control for the kids. Hopefully, all would be well. She hoped he was right; that the kids were fine and that she was the problem for thinking otherwise.
The track was already bustling with parents and kids and crew alike under the summer sun. The moment Josefine parked and stepped out of the van, the air was alive with the familiar smells and sounds of a race weekend through the countryside breeze.
They had so much as barely unloaded their van before she and Henrik were approached by another mum in the parking lot. Henrik was holding onto his kart on the dolly, his backpack on and helmet bag in hand, standing close beside his mother as they were interrupted.
“Good morning!” the mum beamed, sunhat on, Kindle in hand—as if this weekend were for relaxing, not coaching, “How’s the two of you today?”
“It was nice to see you on the weekend for Ivy’s birthday. Lovely little party.”
There was nothing Josefine hated as much as small talk with a stranger but she humoured her politely, “George really went above and beyond.”
“He did. He is such a good dad.” the mum gushed. And then she was looking right at Henrik with that everpresent smile, “And so good of him to take Henrik under his wing like this. Not everyone would be so…generous.”
Josefine was quick to press back, “Henrik earned his place. George saw the talent in him.”
“Yes,” she looked back at Josefine, still with that smile that any adult could so easily read through the lines of, “I’m sure he saw quite a lot.”
At the woman’s subtle up-and-down glance, Josefine had had enough. She set a hand on Henrik’s back to usher him onwards and muttered to the lady with a curt, “Excuse us.”
Henrik stole another glance at the lady over his shoulder as they walked off.
The familiar purple and white tent was already set up in the pit area amongst dozens of others and, inside, George and Ivy and the mechanics were already hard at work. Right away, Henrik’s team of mechanics helped him get his kart set up to take a look at and polite ‘good mornings’ were shared amongst the team.
“How’re you feeling about this weekend, Henrik?” George asked lightheartedly as the boy set his backpack down on the table.
“Good,” was his simple answer.
“It should be sunny all weekend which is a great help.”
Josefine set their last two bags down on the table too and started to unpack their necessities. It wasn’t lost on her the way Ivy was standing so close at George’s side that you might have mistaken her for his shadow. She hadn’t uttered a word since they arrived but she was certainly watching, observing.
Even as the practice day progressed, Ivy followed in George’s footsteps like she was a security guard, refusing to let him out of arm’s reach for even a second. He didn’t seem to mind—or notice—as she had a way of managing to stay out of his way enough that she wasn’t a bother. She had perfected the art of predicting his next move. Josefine was almost impressed if it wasn’t a little concerning. She wished she could turn off her psychotherapist mind. It was hard when she knew it wasn’t her place to speak on it, and yet it also partially affected her and her son at the same time.
George would be leaning over Henrik’s kart to adjust something and Ivy would be right beside him, peering into it too, already with a wrench in hand to pass over before he could even ask. Henrik—a half step behind them—would only receive a proud smirk from Ivy when she did such things.
Josefine didn’t need to be directly involved to notice. As an outsider, watching from her spot at the table, she was privy to plenty. How George went about his usual routine despite Ivy’s closeness, how she was plastering on obedient smiles and sweet words to her father, how Henrik was on the receiving end of her smug glances when George’s back was turned. Even when Henrik tried to engage with Ivy to ask her a question or try to be friendly, she would simply turn her back to him like he wasn’t even there.
Through Friday and Saturday, between practice sessions and Heats and snack breaks, it was the same routine. Josefine could see that from George’s Ivy-biased perspective, she looked well-behaved and fine. But it was the glances between the lines—the small actions when his back was turned—that spoke far more about her internalized thoughts than anything he could see.
As they reviewed the results as a team on Saturday afternoon to prepare for Sunday, Ivy was taking her notes in her old notebook. With all the pages filled, she ended up having to cram her handwriting into the margins, desperate to keep using this notebook. While George spoke to them, Henrik was paying more attention to the way she was now writing away on the inside cover of her book as if to prove a point.
While George was momentarily pulled away by one of the mechanics, Henrik leaned over to Ivy “If you need a new notebook—”
“I don’t,” she said simply, matter-of-factly, without looking at him, “I like this one.”
“But it’s full.”
He was met with no response. He slumped back in his chair.
Through their end-of-day review, Ivy was the picture of politeness under the eye of her father. She didn’t interrupt or argue, even when given feedback or when she had an alternative opinion, keeping herself perfectly composed.
It was enough to earn her a proud praise from her father during packdown that both Josefine and Henrik picked up on. A small squeeze of her shoulder and a kiss to her head and a smile, “See? This is what I like to see—good attitude this weekend.”
By Sunday, it was the same routine. Midday, Henrik was sitting at the table in the tent, chin in hand, lunch untouched on the table beside him, while George and Ivy were touching base with her mechanics across the tent. Josefine slid into the folding chair across from him and he didn’t even glance up.
“My boy…” she said softly, reaching out to brush his shaggy blonde fringe out of his face, “What is the matter?”
Henrik raised his eyes to meet hers from across the table and he just shrugged.
“You have not been yourself all weekend.”
He deflected casually, “I’m driving good.”
“Yes, you are. But off the track, you are acting different. Upset.”
Henrik turned his eyes back to his untouched lunch with a mumbled, “I’m fine.”
“You say that, but I know there is something on your heart,” Josefine whispered, just for them, “You can talk to me.”
Henrik sighed and dropped his hand from his face to pick up his fork instead and he nudged some of his food around his plate, “It’s just…”
Josefine held her breath, not wanting to rush him, or to risk spooking him like a frightened animal. Patience was always a virtue.
Except only a second later, he shrugged again, relenting with a mumbled, “It’s nothing.”
“Henrik…” Josefine started with a concerned sigh.
Just then, from across the tent, George called out, “Henrik! Ready for debrief?”
Without another word or glance to his mother, Henrik grabbed his notebook, and trudged across the tent to join George and Ivy. Josefine trailed after him, always part of the debriefs to follow Henrik’s progress, and pulled up a chair to their little group. When she did, Ivy scooted her chair a careful inch closer to George’s side, just enough to assert herself.
George had two clipboards in hand, one for each kid, with all of the lap times and sessions results from that weekend thus far. They went through each session together, recapping strengths and weaknesses and what to focus on during the race. Ivy kept going wide at turn seven, Henrik was losing a bit of time in sector two.
“How do I get more time?” Henrik asked, “I’ve been tightening my racing line.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. Your time has been improving over the weekend which we love to see,” George replied, “Sector two has a lot of direction changes—stay steady, hug the apexes, and don’t cover extra track unless you’re defending.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Ivy added with a hint of arrogance in her voice, as if she, too, were Henrik’s coach.
“That’s good, Poppet. Help each other out.” George encouraged.
“And I only have to stop going so tight into turn seven,” she declared.
“Right. We don’t want you to let up on the throttle too much so keep yourself just a smidge wider to keep from losing the kart.”
“Yes. Because I’m already very quick otherwise. In all sectors.”
“You are,” George responded haphazardly as he flipped another page on the clipboard. With him momentarily distracted, Ivy shot a smirk at Henrik, half-teasing, half-smug.
The debrief progressed quickly. After two full days at that track, they had already covered quite a bit. It was good weather and the karts were running smoothly and both Ivy and Henrik were starting on the front row; it looked to be a promising day.
George wrapped up the debrief with a final thought, “Watch your teammate and cover your blind spots. There are a lot of tight corners at this track as we’ve discussed so be extra aware of other drivers around you. And have fun, right?”
Ivy hopped up from her chair, already moving to grab her helmet with a chipper, “You’re always right, Daddy!”
Henrik, on the other hand, rose from his seat with a polite and simple, “Thank you.”
George gave him a quick shoulder pat as he drifted past.
Josefine reached out to Ivy, “Ivy, did you want me to do your braids for you?”
Ivy answered without even a second glance, as if she wasn’t even there, “No, thank you.”
And then she was yanking on her helmet and rushing past her after George. Josefine’s eyes trailed her for a moment, a heavy feeling in her chest settling. It felt as if all the work she had put into trying to bridge that gap to Ivy, to get in her good books, was all being undone.
Once they were called to the grid, the team started to head down to the starting line together, towing karts and equipment. The kids walked ahead with their mechanics while George and Josefine fell into step together just behind.
“We haven’t had a proper moment to talk, really,” he said casually, hands tucked in his pockets.
“No, seems not,” Josefine replied.
“How are you doing?”
“I am…alright. Everything still feels…unsettled.”
George stole a glance at her for only a second before looking back ahead towards the kids, “Really? I thought things were looking up. Ivy’s been in surprisingly good spirits this weekend.”
Josefine knew it wasn’t the time or place to get into it so she just pulled a tight-lipped smile and let him get pulled away by his daughter calling him over with haughty demand. So Josefine turned her attention to her son who was already in his kart and staring across the track to the viewing area where most of the parents were already gathered and awaiting the race start. When she approached, he tore his gaze from the crowd up to her instead, her body shielding the sun from his eyes.
She crouched in front of him so he could hear her through the noise of the starting grid, “All set?”
Henrik nodded, holding out a hand so she could help him tug his gloves on properly.
“Head down, shut out any noise, and just have fun, right?” she said earnestly, staring into his sweet eyes through the open visor.
“And don’t take all the track in sector two.”
Josefine smiled softly and gently tapped the side of his helmet three times before offering out her fist. Henrik bumped his against hers.
“Good luck, my boy.”
“Takk, Mamma.”
Joining the other parents in the spectator area, Josefine watched George give his drivers final words of encouragement before heading off the grid for the race. While waiting for him, Josefine watched Henrik glance at Ivy, who was just half a kart length ahead in P1. She didn’t look back. Instead, she adjusted in her seat, flexed her hands on the wheel, and tapped the throttle to edge forward, angling her kart toward Henrik’s in a snide attempt to intimidate him. Henrik snapped his visor shut.
George appeared beside her and joined her at the fence, “A 1-2 finish would be ideal for us this weekend. Heaps of points.”
“Mm,” Josefine agreed, “Especially for Ivy after last weekend’s troubles.”
“Would certainly even their playing field a bit more, that’s true.”
As George observed the start of the formation lap, Josefine felt like she was being watched. She stole a glance to her right where a trio of other parents were staring at them. When she caught them, they just smiled and looked away. Josefine turned back to the track and shifted her weight, leaning her forearms onto the railing with a sigh.
The revs of the karts echoed louder through the summer air as the first lap of the race began and the kids took off at full speed down the main straight. Ivy and Henrik were neck and neck, battling closely but fairly for the first few laps. It was enough to cause George and Josefine to react out loud with every close call, every overtake attempt or brave defence. One time, Henrik even managed to get past her but Ivy scooped the place right back from him into the next turn.
It almost felt like there were no other kids on track with how intensely Ivy and Henrik were battling right at the front. Almost nothing else was worth watching. The time was counting down, laps going by one by one. Ivy was holding her own but Henrik hadn’t let her out of his striking distance.
By lap ten, they had crossed into sector two neck and neck, almost side by side for the first turn before they approached turn seven. Henrik stayed tight to the racing line, managing to hold the inside while Ivy went a little too wide. Both were heavy on the throttle, refusing to break first, stubborn and competitive and not backing down. From the distance the stands were at, not much could be seen, and both George and Josefine rose onto their toes as if to get a clearer view.
Except the next thing they knew, somehow, the karts collided and both went spinning out onto the grass and hit the barrier at impressive speeds. Josefine gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. Beside her, George had his hands at the back of his neck in a mix of exasperation and concern, watching carefully as all of the other drivers zipped right past them. On the timing tower displayed beside the start-finish line, RUS and NES dropped to the very bottom.
Henrik was desperately trying to will his kart out of the grass, the wheels spinning but not gripping enough. Ivy, on the other hand, had already given up, pushing herself out of her kart and giving it a frustrated kick before plopping herself onto the barrier to wait for the marshals.
“Fucking hell,” George muttered, already turning to head towards parc ferme where the marshals would bring them.
Josefine followed closely after him, ignoring the whispers of the other parents as they passed by.
Their priority, first and foremost, was to make sure their children were okay. Their karts could be dealt with later. The moment the marshals brought Ivy and Henrik safely off the track, their parents rushed to their sides.
Josefine took Henrik’s helmet in her hands and leaned down, peering into his open visor, asking hurriedly, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, Mamma,” Henrik grumbled and pushed her hands away to head back towards their tent.
Only a step away, at the same time, George was checking on Ivy as she yanked off her gloves and helmet, “You alright, Poppet?”
“No! I’m not!” Ivy shoved her helmet at him and stormed past him, right towards Henrik. She was approaching from behind him and shoved his shoulder, making him stumble, “What was that?! Idiot! You took me out!”
Henrik didn’t stop walking as he yanked off his own helmet. He didn’t even turn to look at her, calling over his shoulder as he continued his brisk walk back to the tent, “You took us out. You went wide again and I was overtaking on the inside.”
Josefine and George hurried after them, already anticipating damage control that would come with the drop of adrenaline and a tough to swallow race. A DNF for both of them—brutal for their standings this season.
Ivy broke into a bit of a run to get herself beside Henrik so she could shout right at him, “You moved under braking! I was so far in front of you…did you not use your eyes?”
Henrik stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his expression uncharacteristically angry—cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed. Josefine had never seen as angry as that. Then he was pointing a finger at Ivy and snapping right back, “No, you moved under braking trying to defend too much! You cut right into me!”
She threw her hands out, “I did not! I was ahead at the apex! It was mine.”
“Whatever,” Henrik snapped, turning away and heading for the tent.
George called out from a few steps behind them, “Enough, both of you! It’s racing—incidents happen. We’ll go over it later, properly. Right now, I need you to cool off.”
But his coaching demands fell on deaf ears. Henrik had just reached the tent when Ivy jumped in again:
“You just can’t stand seeing me beat you. You’re so selfish now, ever since Daddy felt bad for you and gave you all this.”
Henrik whipped around to face her in utter disbelief beyond his years, “Since he felt bad for me?”
“Yeah!”
Josefine and George caught up to them and right away tried to get some space between them. Josefine reached Henrik first, a firm hand to his chest to stop him from stepping forward, while George caught Ivy by the arm and pulled her back to his side. Ivy, still burning with adrenaline, tried to yank her arm free. Although Henrik stayed rooted in place, his expression tight with barely restrained anger, a storm of emotion on his young face.
“Well, you—” Henrik stopped, breath catching as he forced himself to swallow the rest. As if he caught himself from saying something he might regret.
But Ivy wasn’t done. She threw in one more punch, her voice shrill and desperate to hurt, “You wouldn’t even be here winning races if it wasn’t for my dad’s money!”
And then Henrik snapped. Meeting her intensity, he shouted back, “It’s not like he’s even your real dad!”
The second those words left Henrik’s mouth, it was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been dumped over Josefine. Everything slowed.
Henrik’s hand pressed to his mouth as if he were taken aback by the words he had just uttered. Ivy’s expression melted from its angry scowl into pure shock and confusion. Instantly, she turned to George, who was just a step behind them, as if searching for confirmation. He, too, was frozen in place, stricken in shock, unable to formulate a reply.
His hesitation told her everything.
Ivy’s face flickered and she let out the tiniest huff as if choking back tears before she ran off towards the parking lot.
Then George turned from where he had watched his daughter run, and looked at Josefine. The look on his face nearly brought her to her knees. It was nothing but hurt. A solemn, disbelieving, expression of pain settled heavy across his features, dulling the blue of his eyes. He didn’t utter a single word, but the single look said more than enough.
He only looked at her for a second, but it felt like an agonizing lifetime. Forcing her to face the horrifying reality that they now stood in, the position she had put him in. Then George turned and stalked after Ivy.
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