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[color=ed1c24]“Just a few seconds off, April. I know you can take that lap faster.”[/color] The voice of Jamie foster came over April’s helmet radio as she crossed the start line of the track, the engine of her car purring like a kitten. It was a gorgeous day at Palm Beach International Raceway, a track that her father owned a large share in and therefore could easily get it cleared for the day. Her father served much like a coach to her—he had been a formula one driver for a large chunk of his life—and thus was able to teach his daughter on how to properly race.

[color=ec008c]“Got it, I’m coming into refuel. Tires still feel fine.”[/color] April responded, guiding the beautiful McLaren P1 GTR down the straightaway of the track and into the pit lane. As she came to a stop, the track staff began their individual jobs. They refueled the vehicle and ensured that all of the levels—tire pressure, oil, suspension and air intakes—were all at the proper levels, before they gave the all clear and April took off back onto the track. This car was designed for pure performance on the track. No compromises meant that the beast was powered by both a 3.8L eight-cylinder engine and an electric motor. Combined, it meant that the car launched like a rocket and kept up that speed down the track with a whopping 900 horsepower. And April loved every single bit of it.

April took off from the pit lane and the moment it ended, she put the throttle to the floor. The engine roared and obeyed her command without question, sending the car off down the track at a bone rattling 180mph. She took the next lap slowly as the pit stop would cut into her overall lap time, but the next lap was hers. Jamie had held the record here for a while. It was time for new blood.

The car came down the straightaway and crossed the line in a near instant as April shifted the car up. The track-tuned car took every curve effortlessly as April guided it, her eyes flicking back and forth across the pavement. She glanced up ahead and a grin spread across her face. The final corner, and she was on track for a record lap.

April downshifted the car as she had done hundreds of times before, the car revving high as it slowed down for the curve. The tires dug in to the track as it rounded the corner, before April slammed down the gas and shifted the car back up with the paddles underneath her fingers. She glanced at the speedometer that was now just passing 200mph, the terrain outside of the car whipping by in nothing more than a blur in her peripheral vision. The finish line sat just in front of her, mere seconds until that record was hers.

[color=ed1c24]“One minute, thirty-one seconds!”[/color] Jamie cheered over the radio, watching as his daughter slowed the car to a stop. From underneath her helmet, April couldn’t stop smiling. All of the hours she’d practiced this track, the hours she’d worked on the car, they’d all paid off. At last, the Foster family record had been passed down to the next in line.

A few hours later, April was back home in the garage. From the outside, only her legs were visible, the majority of her torso hidden underneath of the lifted-up Maserati. Though they were fairly routine and extremely basic, the oil change she was doing was a necessary thing to keep her baby running in top shape. There was a reason that she had been doing all of this though, the racing and the work in the garage. It was a distraction. She knew it inside. April couldn’t put it out of her mind. Her [i]other[/i] baby. The one that was actually growing inside of her. Soon it would be too late to tell her father as her body would tell all that needed to be told. She put down the wrench on the concrete floor and just laid underneath the sports car, her mind lost in thought. 

After a very long few minutes, she slid herself from underneath the car and grabbed her phone from the workbench. April paused the music that had been playing on the garage speakers, before she sent off a text to Santiago. April couldn’t keep quiet anymore. The two of them needed to talk about the extremely large elephant in the room. 

[color=ec008c]You awake? We need to talk about our predicament.[/color]