By lap sixty-four, I make worse turns that leave me open for an overtaking. To no one’s surprise, Santiago passes me at one of the corners, rattling my car as he zooms by. My lips lift at the corners. The crowd goes wild, releasing deafening roars when Santiago crosses the finish line first, red smoke billowing up into the air from canisters. I solidify my second place on the podium when I get the next checkered flag. Better luck next time.
