Into the Red

by Park Jiyeon

Not a single moment without tension. When the race ended after seventy-eight laps of everything he had, Oscar's legs trembled so badly he could barely stand. During those war-like minutes, ten more race cars had retired. Only half the drivers finished. Oscar had held on to third place. For the first time in his life, he would stand on a Grand Prix podium. Maybe the caffeine had sweated out of his system—Oscar drifted back from the track in a daze. Parking beneath the podium where a sign marked "3" stood, he still couldn't tell if this was joy or shock. None of it felt real. Only when he climbed out and pulled off his helmet did the cascade of camera flashes hit him, their clicking nearly overwhelming. The sudden attention made him tense. Oscar glanced around. The winning team's crew packed the fence. Beside them, the second-place team's people crowded in just as thick— Someone tapped his shoulder. Oscar turned. Zeno stood there, his fifth-place car parked not far behind. Grinning, Zeno pointed to where Oscar had been standing with his back turned. That's when Oscar spotted the Toro Indigo crew. They hung off the fence waving flags with the bull logo, calling his name. Their fervent cheers stirred something in his chest—a particular warmth, gratitude and embarrassment tangled together. And there, wedged among the bulky pit crew in their deep blue fireproof suits, stood Waldo. White shirt. Headset draped around his neck. He'd turned to laugh at someone's congratulations, and Oscar had never seen him smile like that—so open, so wide. The reality of what had happened finally crashed over him—dizzying, electric. Then Waldo turned and met his eyes. Those gentle, large eyes curved into a smile. So that's how he looks when he's happy. Oscar's heart slammed against his ribs like it might burst.

Officially licensed English translation