September Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Under Illusion

Time Setting: 2021

Genre: Thriller

Minimum Word Goal: 120,000

Timespan: September

Locations: Spokane, Washington; St. Louis, Missouri; Charleston, South Carolina; Dallas, Texas; Nogales, Arizona.

Main Characters: Trace O’Hannigan, Dallis Mihaljević

Background Information: 

Born in Central Alberta as the only son and third of four children to his parents, Trace spent the first eleven years of his life enjoying a semi-rural upbringing before his parents divorced.

As his father worked in the oil industry, which took him away for days, and even weeks, at a time, Trace and his sisters were put exclusively in their mother’s custody, especially when their mother met a reasonably wealthy American man and chose to move in with him, which necessitated their moving to the United States.

His mother soon married the man and applied for permanent residency in the United States for herself and her children, which kept Trace and his sisters from even returning to Canada to visit their grandparents — which Trace, particularly, wanted to do, as he’d been very close with his grandparents.

Before they’d been living in the United States for five years, external circumstances also conspired against Trace and his sisters returning to Canada for some time, as their stepfather lost his job in the Great Recession, and as he and their mother struggled to find jobs, thus they ate through much of his accumulated wealth, forcing them to move to a considerably less affluent neighbourhood than they’d previously lived in.

Having not really come from an exceptionally affluent background in Canada, Trace didn’t mind the shift, especially when he ended up befriending an elderly widower who lived on their street who reminded him of his grandpa not that long after he learned that his grandpa had suffered a fatal stroke.

Finances continued to be a concern for Trace’s family, which prompted Trace and his sisters to each seek jobs once they were in high school in order to ensure that they had money to spend on things that they wanted; the highest want on Trace’s list being a return trip to Canada.

He didn’t end up making his return to Canada until he was eighteen, however, by which time he’d enrolled in a trade school in Spokane to learn mechanics on the recommendation of his neighbour, thus he only went for a visit, where he met his stepmother and stepsisters and discovered that his father had succeeded in accumulating wealth by being able to work longer hours without children around.

Owing to a poor first impression between himself and his stepmother, Trace was glad he’d not sought to move to Canada and enrol in a trade school there, although he still sought to save up as much of the money he could spare outside of what he needed for his education toward the desired end of moving back to Canada, albeit in a home of his own instead of living with his father, as he’d thought he might before he’d met his stepmother.

In the end, however, Trace had a conflict with fellow students that prompted him to quit his mechanics course after completing his third year, and soon after his younger sister, who’d struggled to understand and accept her parents’ divorce, and subsequent remarriages, and also had mental health problems that concerned Trace deeply, ended up murdering her mother and stepfather before killing herself.

As a result, Trace found both stepfamily and biological family, as well as some friends, distancing themselves from him, except his neighbour, who actually took Trace in to live with him, and his best friend, both of whom knew Trace didn’t have his sister’s mental health problems, which were undoubtedly the motive for her actions.

Since even his family in Canada was disturbed by what his sister had done, and his finances had become tight, Trace didn’t go up for what had become his annual visit to Canada, but, instead, sought out a job in the United States, following the advice of his neighbour and getting his license to drive large delivery trucks, which got him a job in rather short order driving locally.

Although initially not bad, Trace quickly found that his employers were demanding more of his time, but not giving him much, if any, more money for what he was doing, which was also compromising his sleep.

As a result, he quit driving for them and sought another job in the same field. He found one that offered better wages and working conditions, and applied for it, which proved to be a substantially more rigorous process than applying for his first job had been with several interviews, background checks, and more.

Adding to the uncertainty, Trace has yet to be told by his employer what kind of cargo he’ll even be hauling across the United States, with the possibility of even making trips into Canada and Mexico, which does make him wonder what exactly he’s getting himself into.

Born the only daughter and youngest of three children to her father, whom she knew worked in some sort of illegal or nearly-illegal field, Dallis was, however, the first — and, as it would happen, only — child her mother ever gave birth to.

Owing to her father’s work, Dallis was actually born in Europe, as her father had been, and spent her first two years there — during which her mother miscarried what would’ve been a little brother for her — before the family settled in St. Louis to be near her father’s family.

Before they’d lived much more than a year in St. Louis Dallis’ mother — who was pregnant at the time — was shot to death and her father also nearly died while leaving a birthday party for one of Dallis’ brother’s friends. Dallis later learned from her brothers that the killers had been hired by her mother’s ex-boyfriend, who’d not appreciated that her mother had been wooed away from him by her father, and had been unable to kill her sooner because of the family’s residence in Europe.

Dallis’ father did manage to survive the attack and raised Dallis and her half-brothers with the help of the family whose son’s birthday party her family had been attending at the time of her mother’s death, as the father of that family had been a schoolmate and friend of her father.

Although all three of his children were precious to him, Dallis was the particular object of her father’s protection, to the point that she became frustrated and struggled against him with the assistance of her brothers until her father finally explained to her that she was the perfect image of her mother, whom Dallis hardly remembered.

As a result of the explanation, Dallis’ relationship with her father improved — as did her brothers’ relationship to him, as they’d both believed his protectiveness of Dallis to be unreasonable, and had striven to help her defy her father until he explained himself — prompting her to become alarmed when he didn’t return home when he’d said he would a few years later.

She and her brothers grieved deeply when they discovered that he had been murdered by a serial killer in California on his way home, prompting her oldest brother, who’d moved out of the family home, to move back in and take care of Dallis and her other brother, both of whom were several years younger than him, and thus not allowed to live on their own yet.

Since her father had worked in an illegal or nearly-illegal line of work, Dallis’ brothers had followed him into somewhat similar fields, and upon her father’s death, Dallis was also drawn into the criminal world.

Like her father, however, her brothers remained fiercely independent, not becoming wholly affiliated with any one group of criminals, but making or breaking alliances as it suited them, which her brothers were able to do without any retribution because of their father’s reputation for fierce independence.

As their sister, Dallis has stuck with her brothers, who are the only men in the world that she trusts completely to keep her safe and be interested in assuring her wellbeing, and are also still teaching her what she needs to know in order to command the same respect from those around her as her brothers are able to command.

She is not, however, completely dependent on her brothers, even though she genuinely loves them too much to really want to separate all that far from them, but is considered by some of those who previously associated with her father to actually have the most personality similarities to her father of his three children, even though she is still very much the picture of her mother.

Pronunciations:

Nogales: nohzhahlehz

Mihaljević: mihhahljehvihch

Don't Let Go: Day 16

Word Total: 95,057

Year to Date: 690,296

Summary of Events:

Tor and his family went to his grandmother's property in Luxembourg for their annual three-week family vacation, during which Tor enjoyed relaxing, yet still yearned to get back to racing. Late in their vacation, Tor was summoned to speak with Vater, who questioned Tor rigorously on why he would want to keep racing when he could die, and die graphically, in such a career, while a corporate job had negligible risk of such a thing happening…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Not all the time,” Tor contended. “There are far more failures in motorsport that are far less graphic than the ones that are widely publicised. Graphic failure is not the only kind of failure in motorsport, and is actually rather uncommon.”

Vater looked rather disgusted. He turned to his laptop, raising the screen and doing something on it before turning it to face Tor, revealing that he had a motorsport video cued up on the screen.

“You mean to say that this is not graphic to you?” Vater asked coldly.

Pressing a button with a firm strike of his finger, Vater withdrew his hand while the video started into motion.

Tor very quickly identified the cars as IndyCars, as they looked rather like Formula E cars, except with windshields and engine sounds, which — along with the cheering of the crowd behind the protective fencing — was all Tor could hear.

The camera was fixed on a corner, through which several of the cars were passing, many with brightly coloured liveries that Tor actually felt were quite cluttered, making it a challenge for him to tell what teams the cars represented.

Suddenly there was an explosion of debris, Tor could see that a tire on one of the cars had failed, sending it spearing into the barrier, allowing Tor to see that its racing number was 29.

In an instant a pursuing car, unable to stop in time, collided at full speed with the rear end of the 29 car, whose nose was flung away from the barriers in a mangled mess and spun back across the track into the path of an unsuspecting car that was unable to stop, and hit the 29 car squarely in the side while another car, seeking to avoid the melée, launched upwards, the camera panning slightly to follow it, causing Tor to see a familiar logo along the barriers.

It was the logo of the most recent Indianapolis 500. That 29 car had been Uncle Zikki. Tears rushed to Tor’s eyes; he felt sick.

The footage changed to another angle, and looked like it was going to show the incident again. Tor closed Vater’s laptop with a trembling hand. He didn’t want to see it again. He hadn’t even ever wanted to see it at all.

Shifting his gaze to Vater, Tor saw a self-satisfied — and also smug — smile on his face. He knew full well that Tor had been sleeping and hadn’t seen the crash live, and he’d had the nerve to go and find it somewhere.

As if his body were a room full of gas vapour in which a match had just been lit, white-hot rage exploded within Tor. He didn’t think he’d ever been more upset in all his life.

“You are heartless!” Tor screamed. “You are remorseless! That you would dare use such horrid and grotesque things for your own ends! How dare you! I will never follow in your footsteps! I have never had any intentions to do so, and what you have just done has accomplished the absolute opposite of helping your cause! I hate you! I will always hate you! I’ll go to my grave hating you! Even if you’re already dead!”

Next Post: 31 August

Don't Let Go: Day 15

Word Count: 90,027

Summary of Events:

Owing to the intense emotions of being at the Nürburgring to race without Uncle Zikki, Tor had a miserable qualifying that saw him starting thirtieth of thirty-one drivers. He was inclined to despair, but Arndt called him and offered encouragement, and he also ended up learning that one of Alexa's cousins was bringing his five or six-year-old son to the track for his first time watching live racing, which prompted Tor to strive to do his best despite his grief. His best, as it happened, turned out to be pretty good, as he came across the line in third at the chequered flag…

Excerpt of the Day:

Blinking to try and get the tears out of his eyes so that he could navigate the track, Tor hoped that he could pull himself together soon enough to stand on the podium and smile, but, at the same time, he felt sure that he’d go to pieces on the podium, for he’d be standing on the exact same step that Uncle Zikki had stood on when he’d first seen Uncle Zikki race.

As he navigated the track, Tor strove to banish his thoughts and memories of Uncle Zikki from his mind before he reached the pit lane, where he pulled up to the board with the number three printed onto it, being careful to come to a full stop before he made contact with the board.

Tor shut off his car and sat still for a moment before carefully removing his steering wheel from its place and setting it on the bodywork that covered his legs. He then unfastened his seatbelts slowly before carefully wiggling his way out of his car. He put his steering wheel back in before he climbed out of the cockpit.

Aston, who’d won the race, was standing, looking to have been waiting. He wrapped Tor in a tight embrace, but if he said anything, Tor didn’t hear it.

After releasing Tor, Aston jogged over to their team — among whom was standing Nikon, who’d been forced to retire when his car got caught up in a collision at the end of the start-finish straight — and embraced the team members eagerly and enthusiastically.

Nikon beckoned to Tor, who walked over slowly. As soon as Tor got close enough, Nikon reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. Tor desperately tried to blink the tears out of his eyes, but to no avail.

“I knew you could do it,” Nikon said.

Tor released Nikon and ended up being dragged into embraces by the team, who had been tender and sympathetic toward Tor all weekend, and Tor could feel that even though they were celebrating, they were also sympathetic toward him, conveying an understanding of his emotions.

It wasn’t until after he’d been weighed that Tor took off his helmet, HANS device, balaclava, and even his gloves.

“Didn’t you start in thirtieth?” Ákos — the other podium finisher — asked.

Tor nodded, taking up a towel and wiping his face.

“How did you get here then?” Ákos asked.

“That crash that took out just about half the field probably helped,” Aston said.

Tor nodded.

“But even still,” Ákos said. “How did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Tor replied, shrugging.

They made their way toward the exit out onto the podium, where Tor was announced as the third-place finisher. He managed to wave to the crowd before stepping up onto the podium, where he wiped his face with the towel he’d brought with him, hoping to hide the fact that he was still struggling not to cry.

Pronunciations:

Nikon: neekawn

Ákos: ahkohs

Don't Let Go: Day 14

Word Count: 84,013

Summary of Events:

Tor's next races were in Italy, where he ended up meeting the CEO and COO of Souček International, who had decided to come see him in action for themselves. Returning home, Tor found that the apology letter he'd left Orlanda had been answered only with an acceptance of the apology, despite Tor's hope that she might've apologised for refusing to let him apologise initially. The next races were at the Nürburgring, where Tor struggled with more emotions than he'd expected, prompting him to take a walk around the Nordschleife, which hadn't helped as he'd hoped…

Excerpt of the Day:

He’d suspected that coming back to the Nürburgring for the first time since Uncle Zikki’s funeral just over two months ago would be emotional, not only because of his memories of Uncle Zikki’s funeral, but also because of the fact that it was his first ever single-seater race at the Nürburgring — an occasion he had hoped Uncle Zikki would be alive and present to see — and he had so many other memories of Uncle Zikki and the Nürburgring.

His first-ever live race had been at the Nürburgring. He’d gone with Opa, who had told him to pay attention to the number twenty nine car. He, with Opa, had cheered it to a podium finish before Opa had taken him to the pit lane, and particularly to the spot where the podium finishers parked their cars.

To his shock and delight, when the number twenty nine car’s driver had removed his helmet, it had revealed the familiar face of Uncle Zikki — whom Tor hadn’t previously known to be a racing driver — which had filled Tor with the desire to become a racing driver too, and had led to his being enrolled in karting for the following season.

That day had hardly been a decade ago, but Tor remembered it as clearly as if it had happened hours ago. As if he were still a six-year-old sitting on the shoulders of one of Uncle Zikki’s mechanics to have a better view of the podium ceremony, getting sprinkled with droplets of champagne.

There was also Uncle Zikki’s first — and, unfortunately, only — appearance at the Nürburgring as an F1 driver a few years later, where he’d managed to drag his underfunded back-marker car to a P15 finish that had been considered something of a remarkable feat, as prior to that juncture the only driver he’d been racing against had been his teammate.

Uncle Zikki had also managed to appear at the Hockenheimring once before the team had folded, leaving him without a seat in F1, even if he’d been able to get a last-minute deal to be a test driver for a back-of-the-midfield team, which had been renewed a couple times before Uncle Zikki had made the decision to move to IndyCar. A fatal decision, Tor felt now.

He knew everyone on the grid pitied him — well, except probably Marius and Valerio, but he suspected even Gaëtan pitied him a little bit — and was sympathetic toward him; he’d been showered with reassuring pats and comments that were verging on cliché already since the moment he’d arrived, but it wasn’t doing anything beneficial whatsoever, as far as Tor was concerned.

Of course, Tor didn’t have any more of an idea how to make the pain he was feeling go away, and since those around him weren’t feeling anything near to comparable pain for themselves — a fact of which he was very confident — he was very doubtful that they had ideas either, much less better ones.

They probably didn’t even realise how deep the pain was that he was feeling, how constant the assaults of memories were on him, how deeply he yearned to have Uncle Zikki appear and prove that everything had just been a massive nightmare.

Pronunciations:

Nürburgring: nuhrbuhrgring

Nordschleife: nohrdshlaefuh

Don't Let Go: Day 13

Word Count: 78,140

Summary of Events:

Tor finally saw Orlanda for the first time since he'd tracked her down in Rome, and could tell she was upset at him before she told him so curtly and left without giving him the chance to apologise. Since he had a race right away, Tor messaged her an apology, but discovered upon arriving at the race's location that she'd unfollowed him on social media and not replied to his apology before he joined his teammates in going out for waffles and explained the situation to them, although they didn't really have any advice for him. In the closing stages of the race, just after a safety car period ended, Tor gained the lead of the race, but was unable to open up a gap on the driver he'd passed, who continued to fight him doggedly…

Excerpt of the Day:

Two more laps that were much the same followed, and although Tor was glad to be keeping Lachlan behind him like he wanted to, he was frustrated that he wasn’t getting as far ahead as he wanted to be getting, which he felt was being hampered by an increasing vibration his team were looking into.

Finally a glance at his pit board told him that it was the final lap. Tor dug in. He wasn’t going to let Lachlan pull out a last-lap overtake for the win. He wanted this win, and he was going to get it.

He could tell that Lachlan seemed to be getting frustrated, as he was being more aggressive, but Tor defended against his every move. Even if he was new to Formula 4, he’d come into the series as a top-flight karting champion. He knew how to defend leads, even if the machinery he was now operating was different from what he’d been using the season before.

As in the four laps since the safety car had pulled in, Lachlan challenged for the outside in the eleventh turn, but Tor fought back and they were side-by-side with Lachlan holding the inside line through the twelfth turn.

Tor managed to get better traction and lunge ahead of Lachlan out of the corner, but Lachlan was still partially alongside him down the straight. Into the thirteenth turn Lachlan locked up his tires and ran wide.

Surging through the final corner with as much speed as he dared, Tor surged down the main straight. He could see the chequered flag waiting for him and put his foot down, his car was vibrating intensely, but he wasn’t letting off the accelerator.

Suddenly his car snapped violently. Tor let go of the steering wheel as the car speared hard into the pit wall. The rear end swung around, turning the whole car around backwards before coming to a stop with a soft bump as the rear end came to rest against the pit wall, the front suspension mangled.

Seeing something moving, Tor looked up and saw that the chequered flag and a yellow flag were both being waved. He’d crossed the line in first. He’d won the race, even if he’d ended up crashing to do it.

Tears rushed to his eyes.

“Are you okay?” his engineer asked urgently. “Tor! Are you okay?”

Tor lifted his visor and reached his fingers inside, sobbing.

“Tor!” his engineer called urgently. “Answer me! Are you okay?”

Fumbling for the radio button, Tor pressed it.

“I’m not hurt,” he sobbed. “There’s no pain.”
“Are you sure?” his engineer asked.

“Yes,” Tor sobbed. “It’s just… I’ve won… and Uncle Zikki’s not here… to celebrate it with me.”
“Oh,” his engineer sighed with relief. “I’m sorry Tor.”

Tor shut off his car and unfastened his seatbelts before worming his way out of his car. He pulled off his helmet, HANS device, and balaclava as violently as he dared and tossed them into the seat of his car before burying his face into his hands and sobbing.

Don't Let Go: Day 12

Word Count: 72,134

Summary of Events:

To Tor's immense delight and relief, the Czech man — and his associates in Czechia, to whom he sent photos and videos of Tor on top of giving a verbal report — agreed to provide Tor with the remainder of the financial backing he needed to keep racing, with the man and Opa hammering out a deal at the track, which meant Tor could participate in the rest of the race weekend. Oma reminded him that his father might still disapprove when he found out, but Tor refused to be intimidated by the thought and posed with the Czech man for some photos to mark the occasion in the paddock…

Excerpt of the Day:

Turning his head mostly just to look around, Tor saw among the people walking around the paddock — which included not merely the Formula 4 drivers and team personnel, but also drivers and team personnel for the other series which were racing over the weekend, and whose series Formula 4 was there as a support race for — Vater and Mama.

Vater looked stern and unimpressed, while Mama looked like she might be dealing with some mixed feelings, as Tor wasn’t sure Mama had been in a racing paddock without Uncle Zikki, and he supposed Mama was probably remembering.

Mama gave Tor a much gentler hug than she had at the airport the day before, as well as kissing his jaw lightly.

“Ah,” Opa said. “Herr Černý, these are Tor’s parents, my daughter Alena, and her husband Sigwald Bergmann. Ane, Siggy, this is Arnošt Černý of Souček International, who have just agreed to become Tor’s main sponsor.”

Tor could see that there was some recognition between Vater and Herr Černý, as if they’d met one another before.

As for Mama, she was looking at Tor with pleading eyes and a dismayed look. Although he felt badly, Tor looked at Mama with resolve. He wasn’t going to quit racing, no matter what.

“I suspected there was a connection between the two of you,” Herr Černý said. “But I never would’ve guessed it was this close.”

Tor looked at Herr Černý, who was looking wary. He looked at Vater, whose face was rapidly reddening with rage.

“How dare you!” Vater shouted, his eyes blazing. “You have betrayed yourself!”

“How so?” Tor asked coolly.

“How so?” Vater demanded. “How so!?”

Tor nodded.

“You have sold yourself to a rival!” Vater shouted. “A direct rival!”

“So?” Tor asked, looking at Vater defiantly. “I’m not interested in the company whatsoever, and if what I’ve done doesn’t prove that to you, then I don’t know what I need to do to make it clear to you that I would rather race than anything else in the world.”

The rage which had been burning in Vater’s eyes changed as Tor spoke; he saw a flash of deep pain in them, but he couldn’t tell if it lingered because Vater immediately turned on his heel and started stalking away.

Tor looked at Mama, who looked as bemused as he felt. Once again, he’d expected Vater to shout at him so loudly that he’d make himself hoarse, but instead Vater had remained uncharacteristically silent.

Pronunciations:

Czechia: chehkeeah

Herr: hehr

Černý: chehrnee

Sigwald: sihgvahld

Ane: ahneh

Arnošt: ahrnohsht

Souček: soochehk

Don't Let Go: Day 11

Word Count: 66,050

Summary of Events:

Tor was allowed to go with his mother to the reading of Uncle Zikki's will, where he learned that Uncle Zikki had created a trust fund in Tor's name, from which he would be given an annual allowance toward his racing, but it still wasn't enough money. He learned from Madlenka that she'd gotten some good leads from her grandparents, but none of them had gotten back to her yet, so, with Orlanda's help, Tor departed for Italy, still missing over a quarter of the funding he needed. After notifying his team that he was in Italy — but without full backing — Tor was leaving the track when he was approached by a Czech man, who represented a Czech company that was interested in sponsoring Tor, if they could see him in action. Tor was granted dispensation by the officials to participate in a practise in order to be seen in action, while his Opa brought his Oma and his parents along when Tor asked him to come in hopes of an agreement being reached because they had all panicked and called the police when Tor and Orlanda hadn't returned from their hike. Immediately on the practise session beginning, Tor went out to do a flying lap without any other cars on the track . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Reaching the main straight, Tor accelerated so that he was at top speed when he shot over the start/finish line, which started the clock for his flying lap.

Tor nailed the apex of all three of the opening corners — which were little more than soft curves, really — before racing down the short straight to the next two turns, which he also executed perfectly before he raced through the next soft curve toward the second-largest of the four hairpin-like turns of the track, which was at the end of the track’s longest straight.

Heading around the nearly 45˚ corner that led into the more complicated part of the track with another apex met perfectly, Tor then wove through the two softer curves that led into the second-smallest and smallest hairpins on the track, after which came two nearly 90˚ turns, and then finally, after a short straightaway, the largest of the hairpins, which led back to the main straight.

Tor didn’t slow down his speed at all, but decided to pursue a second flying lap consecutively.

“What was my time?” Tor asked.

“One thirty three point five,” his engineer replied. “One thirty three point five.”

“I’m doing another one,” Tor said.

“I suspected as much,” his engineer replied.

If Tor’s first flying lap had been perfectly executed, his second, he felt, was impeccably flawless, and he didn’t think there was anything he could possibly critique about it whatsoever.

Once he’d crossed the line the second time, Tor released the throttle and started on a cool-down lap.

“The officials might want to check our car,” his engineer said.

“Why?” Tor asked.

“You did the lap in one thirty point zero,” his engineer replied. “The lap record is one thirty two nine.”

“So you mean I have the new lap record?” Tor asked.

“Maybe,” his engineer replied. “So long as you didn’t exceed track limits or anything.”

“That lap was flawless,” Tor replied.

“Let’s hope so,” his engineer said.

“I’m boxing,” Tor said.

“Copy,” his engineer replied.

Tor hoped that he officially had the lap record — at least, for Formula 4, whose cars weren’t as fast as even Formula 3 cars, as they were supposed to gradually get faster until the fastest was a Formula 1 car, gradually getting the drivers used to more and more speed — he didn’t want to have exceeded track limits and gotten his time deleted, especially not when his career depended on it.

“Äh, unfortunately it’s not the lap record,” Tor’s engineer said as Tor rounded the final turn before the pit lane entrance.

“No!” Tor cried.

“You didn’t exceed track limits,” his engineer replied. “It’s perfect, it stands. Apparently it’s not counted because it’s not in a race. If you nail that kind of time in one of the races this weekend then it’ll be the new lap record.”

“Oh,” Tor said, feeling relieved. “It was perfect.”

“It was amazing,” his engineer agreed.

Pronunciation:

Äh: euh

Don't Let Go: Day 10

Word Count: 60,027

Summary of Events:

Tor contacted Alexa, Madlenka, and Uncle Zikki's best friend Arndt, to see if they knew of anyone who might be interested in sponsoring him. Unfortunately, Alexa informed him that none of Uncle Zikki's sponsors who didn't already sponsor Tor were interested in doing so because Tor wasn't planning on moving to the US to race. Arndt supplied Tor with the names of two startups that agreed to small deals, which was better than nothing, but Tor had heard nothing from Madlenka, and he had less than a week before he needed to get to Italy for his next race. He was, however, approached by his older sister, who made an offer to help Tor when it came to how he was getting to Italy from a practical standpoint…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Can you?” Tor asked.

“Ja,” Orlanda replied. “I’ve got some friends from school that live in Rome, and I promised I’d visit them this summer.”

“And you’ll take me with you?” Tor asked.

“Secretly, of course,” Orlanda replied.

“Of course,” Tor agreed.

“I’m thinking we tell Vater and Mama we’re going for a hike,” Orlanda replied. “Which we would do, but, instead of coming home, we go to the airport and fly to Rome.”

Tor nodded. “And then you would take me to the track or…?”

“Only if you need,” Orlanda replied.

“Okay,” Tor said. “You’ll be able to leave on Thursday?”

“Ja,” Orlanda replied. “And stay until Monday too.”

“Good,” Tor said. “I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

“But like a hike,” Orlanda whispered.

Tor nodded, smiling gratefully at Orlanda, who gave him a mischievous grin in return before leaving.

In terms of her actual sentiments about his racing career, Orlanda was generally neutral, not really having the most significant of interests in racing, but, at the same time, being willing to watch it and hear about it, but in terms of the ends it would accomplish, Orlanda was quite interested.

Orlanda was the one who had an interest in the company. She had devoured the subjects Tor was being forcibly tutored in with relish during her school years, and was actually in the midst of expanding her education in them at university.

Her original intention had been to get a position at the company, but her and Tor’s combined efforts to that end had met with little success; indeed, somehow they’d resulted in Tor getting disowned by Großvater — not that Tor minded not having anything to do with him, if he was honest — while Orlanda was still slated to receive an inheritance upon Großvater’s death.

Tor didn’t altogether understand why Großvater still meant to give something to Orlanda, considering he had been quite scandalised by the fact that she wanted to take over the company — and had rather loudly gone on about the proud history of the company having been handed from father to son from its founding in protest — but Tor didn’t really ponder the matter too much.

He was, however, grateful that Orlanda had become more determined than ever when her aspirations of getting work in the company at all — forget her aims to run it — had been so stoutly rebuffed to help Tor succeed in his racing career in a bit of revenge on Vater and Großvater for rejecting her, when she was twice as willing as Tor would ever be.

Even though Tor had never thought he’d see the day when Mama would fail him, the fact that he had Orlanda to fall back on — except when it came to getting a hearing with Vater, as she met no more success on that front than Tor did most of the time — was something he had to admit that he appreciated. Now all he needed was the money.

Pronunciations:

Arndt: awnt

Großvater: grohssfahteh

Don't Let Go: Day 9

Word Count: 54,051

Summary of Events:

Tor, having posted about his broken headphones on social media, was contacted by the manufacturers of the headphones, who offered to replace them for free with a set of the upgraded model that was coming out in a month's time, customised as he wished. Surprised and grateful, Tor accepted the offer before wondering if — considering he needed sponsors owing to his father's financial withdrawal — they might be interested in sponsoring him too. They expressed interest, so Tor directed them to Opa for more information while he continued to have to deal with massively unpleasant lessons with his tutor, as well as homework every night.

Excerpt of the Day:

Feeling a sustained vibration against his leg — which meant a phone call, versus a text message or some other notification — Tor gratefully put his pen down and withdrew his cellphone from his pocket to see that the caller was Opa. He headed away from the kitchen island and toward the back door as he answered the call.

“Hallo Opa.”
“Hallo,” Opa replied. “I’m pleased to inform you that you have a new sponsor.”

“That headphone company?” Tor asked, closing the back door behind him.

“Ja,” Opa replied, going on to inform Tor of the agreement they’d reached.

“Hoi,” Tor said. “I didn’t expect the numbers to be that big.”

“I didn’t either,” Opa admitted. “But we’re not complaining either.”

“Nein,” Tor agreed. “Not at all.”

“I have bad news too, though,” Opa said.

“Oh?” Tor asked.

“Your team called me,” Opa replied.

“Why?” Tor asked.

“Your father called them and told them that you won’t be participating in the remainder of either championship owing to the extreme level of grief you are suffering because of the death of your uncle,” Opa replied.

Anger flared in Tor. “You’d better have told them that information is utterly false.”

“I told them that we don’t want it to be true,” Opa replied.

“But it isn’t true!” Tor protested.

“Tor,” Opa said. “Your father’s cancelling of his personal and corporate financial support took away almost half your backing. The contract that was just signed doesn’t even make up half of what you lost. In your current financial situation, you’re not racing.”

Dropping his shoulders, Tor looked down at the stones of the patio, feeling as if Opa’s words had been a bucket of water that had doused the fires of anger he’d been feeling moments before.

“What do we do Opa?” Tor asked.

“You can get more sponsors,” Opa replied. “But, whether you’ll get them in time or not, is a completely different matter, especially considering how much you need.”

“How many sponsors the size of the one we just signed would I need?” Tor asked.

“At least another five,” Opa replied. “If they agree to larger deals, it could be less, but I wouldn’t really hold out any hope for one of those to come along in the timeframe that we have.”

Tor sighed. “I don’t want to miss a race Opa. I can’t afford to.”

“Sometimes that’s just how it is Tor,” Opa said soberly.

“But,” Tor said.

“I know,” Opa said. “But we can only do what we can, Tor, and if that isn’t enough, that isn’t enough.”

“I won’t let him force me to stop,” Tor said. “I will keep racing.”

Opa sighed, but said nothing.

“Thank you for letting me know Opa,” Tor said.

“You’re welcome Tor,” Opa replied quietly.

“Bye,” Tor said.

“Bye,” Opa replied.

Don't Let Go: Day 8

Word Count: 48,058

Summary of Events:

Tor decided he wanted to move in with his grandparents to escape his father's punishments, but his plan was thwarted when his Opa refused to come get him and his things and urged him not to work so hard to destroy his relationship with his father. Thus, Tor was forced to meet the tutor, whom he quickly got upset at, throwing his largest textbook at the tutor before going up to his room, where he held out against his father's efforts to get him back to his studies for over an hour. Eventually, however, his mother asked him to go resume them for her sake — and under her supervision — to which Tor begrudgingly acquiesced. Once the tutor was gone, Tor expressed his displeasure to his mother, while also apologising for the damage his textbook had done to the fence…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Danke, Tor,” Mama replied. “What did you do?”

“I threw the textbook at him,” Tor replied, pointing at the still-dirty book.

Mama looked at the book, a shocked look coming over her face before she looked up at him. “Tor!”

“He dodged the worst of it,” Tor replied. “I was aiming for his stomach.”

“Tor,” Mama scolded. “I know you have a temper, but you could have caused severe injuries.”

“I shouldn’t have to do this Mama,” Tor argued. “My marks are passing, which is all they need to be because I’m not going to need them for the rest of my life.”
Mama shook her head. “That’s no justification Tor.”

“Mama,” Tor pleaded.

“Don’t even start Tor,” Mama said sternly. “You will apologise to the tutor tomorrow for losing your temper at him.”

“He made me mad,” Tor protested.

“Conrad,” Mama said firmly.

Tor lowered his head. The invocation of his first name with Mama was much more serious than with anyone else.

“You have the ability to control your temper,” Mama said firmly. “And you must keep it under control, for you will live a more lonesome existence than even someone like you could stand if your temper controls you.”

“Ja Mama,” Tor replied quietly, keeping his head down.

Mama placed a gentle hand on his and he looked up at her to see her face was as tender and affectionate as ever.

“Danke Tor,” she said softly. “I know you don’t like the tutor, but that doesn’t mean that you are justified to have acted in a fit of temper in such a way that you could honestly have killed him.”

Tor sighed.

“Now how about we get this homework out of the way and then you can go back to your game?” Mama said.

“Do I have to?” Tor asked.

“Better now than later,” Mama replied.

“Why do I have to do it at all Mama?” Tor asked.

“It will make tomorrow easier Tor,” Mama replied.

“But I don’t want him to come tomorrow,” Tor protested.

“I know Tor,” Mama replied softly.

“Then why are you making me do it Mama?” Tor asked.

“Because the tutor has been hired to teach it to you,” Mama replied

“Mama,” Tor complained. “Why don’t you just tell Vater to sack him?”

“My little boy,” Mama said softly. “Darling, bitte.”

“Why?” Tor whined.

“Because your Vater has hired him,” Mama replied.

Tor looked at Mama with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to do it Mama.”

“You aren’t a puppy Tor,” Mama said. “Come, let’s go inside so I can make supper while you work.”

Tor made his most pleading eyes at Mama, even managing to summon a few tears.

“Enough Tor,” Mama said. “Doing some extra studying won’t do any harm.”

Quivering his jaw, Tor blinked repeatedly at her as she stood up.

“Stop that Tor,” Mama chided, tapping his nose firmly. “Bring your books, come.”

Sighing reluctantly, Tor got to his feet and picked up the books, carrying them into the house while Mama carried the tray with their empty bowls and used spoons toward the house.

Pronunciations:

Vater: fahtuh

Bitte: bihtuh

Don't Let Go: Day 7

Word Count: 42,056

Summary of Events:

Upon arriving home from Austria, Tor was informed by his mother that his father wished to speak with him immediately, so he went to see what his father had to say. To his shock, his father informed him that the family company's sponsorship and any other financial support his father had provided his racing career were being withdrawn immediately, as his father didn't want Tor to die racing. Tor, to his embarrassment, burst into tears at the news and fled to his mother, who didn't comfort and reassure him as usual, but told him she didn't want him to die racing either, prompting Tor to get upset at her. His sister confronted him about his actions, prompting him to leave the house, driving his father's car without any license to speak of — as he couldn't legally even have a learner's license yet — to his Opa and Oma's house. He talked with his Oma about the matter before being taken to the police station to face punishment for having driven illegally and returned home, where his father informed him he was forbidden to leave the house — except to go to the backyard for sunshine — for the rest of the month. Tor argued with his father about the matter until his mother fled in tears, prompting Tor to hurry after her, hugging her and apologising . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I was hurting Mama, and it was foolish,” Tor said. “I shouldn’t have said any of what I said to you earlier. I’m sorry, Mama.”

Sliding his left hand up from between Mama’s shoulders to reach the base of her skull, Tor pressed her head against his shoulder rubbing his forefinger against her scalp gently so that he didn’t pull the tender little hairs that hid down there, especially considering Mama had her hair done up like she usually did so that it didn’t get in her face while she was trying to take pictures, or get into her food when she was cooking.

“But I’ll never be happy working at the company Mama,” Tor said. “Nobody could ever do anything that could make me happy there.”

Mama shifted her head against his chest, prompting him to loosen his left hand’s press.

“Tor,” she whispered, her voice still trembling. “Please, Tor… don’t tell me that you have to keep driving a casket on wheels to be happy.”

Tor grimaced at Mama’s chosen term. “But it’s true Mama. I love racing too much to give it up Mama.”

“But isn’t there a different kind you could do?” Mama asked. “A safer kind?”

“Probably,” Tor conceded. “But I want to race in Formula One like Uncle Zikki, and to last there like he didn’t, to win the Driver’s Championship like Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel. Besides Mama, no one has died in Formula One in six years.”

Shaking her head, Mama pressed her hands against Tor, who loosened his hold on her reluctantly, meeting her tear-filled blue eyes with his own.

“It’s still too dangerous, Tor,” she replied.

Tor had nothing to say. He knew it was dangerous to be a racing driver. Racing history was strewn with the bodies of men who had died well younger than they could’ve, had they not been men, like he, whose hearts thrilled at the sound of a powerful engine, and the feel of it propelling them forward at unfathomable speeds, among whom now lay Uncle Zikki.

“I’m sorry, my little boy,” Mama whispered. “I have too much fear.”

“I’m sorry too, Mama,” Tor replied softly, not breaking his gaze with her. “But I have to do it.”

Mama closed her eyes and sobbed. Tor drew her back close against him and leaned his cheek on her head as she wept. His tears slid silently, those from his left eye sliding down the side of his nose and across his upper lip heading down to his jaw, those from his right heading for his ear, but getting absorbed by Mama’s hair before they could reach their destination.

He wasn’t surprised that Mama was afraid, as she was so much like Oma, and Oma had been afraid of losing Uncle Zikki for years, but he couldn’t quit racing just because Mama was scared. He couldn’t even quit because he was scared — and there were a few times where he had been scared to get into a racing car, or to keep racing — he had to race.

Pronunciation:

Schumacher: shoomahker

Don't Let Go: Day 6

Word Count: 36,008

Summary of Events:

Tor managed to finish in the points positions in the first two races of the weekend, and hoped to maybe even capture a podium in the final race, as he was starting closer to the front than he'd started in those two races. A first lap incident helped his cause by advancing him from P13 to P6, and Tor then gained P5 by the driver ahead of him pitting quite early, prompting him to set his sights on the next driver ahead of him, the arrogant Italian…

Excerpt of the Day:

It was the catching up to Valerio that would be the greater challenge, as Valerio was a genuinely fast driver, even if his defensive skills were lacking, and Tor was sure that if he was told that someone was closing in on him, he’d push even harder, which would make it hard for Tor to gain on him.

Nonetheless, Tor was pleased when his engineer informed him over successive laps that he was gaining, even if only by the smallest of increments, on Valerio, whom he was starting to be able to see on the track ahead of him for longer and longer periods of time.

A glance toward his pit board as he surged down the main straight, however, made Tor’s heart sink.

On one hand, it displayed that he was 1.9 seconds behind Valerio, but on the other, it bore the instructions that he was to box next lap for new tires. Tor was sure his were in good enough shape to carry on past Valerio, where he could have a push lap before diving into the pits, but the team obviously had other ideas.

“Do I have to box this lap?” Tor asked. “Can’t I get past Valerio first?”

“Box this lap please,” his engineer replied. “Box this lap.”

Tor was annoyed, but he pushed as hard as he could in hopes that he might be able to undercut Valerio in accordance with team orders, and even force Valerio to pit in an effort to ward off his attempt, even though in the case of Valerio, passing on the track wasn’t often much more difficult than an undercut strategy — or an over-cut one, for that matter.

On the final straight before the sweeping curve that led into the pit lane, Tor felt his car vibrating massively, suggesting there was something wrong with one of the tires, but he didn’t dare let off the throttle, it wasn’t like he wasn’t close to the pit lane entrance.

“I have massive vibrations,” Tor reported.

“Copy, that’s why you’re boxing,” his engineer replied.

Tor rounded the curve when suddenly the rear end of his car snapped. He let off the throttle and fought for control, as well as to aim his car into the pit lane he was massively grateful to be so close to.

Once he was safely in the pit lane, Tor slowed down to a crawl, making his way toward the team’s pit box, where the mechanics and fresh tires were waiting for him. He saw in his rearview mirrors as he crawled along that it was his right rear tire which had blown, which made sense with the way his car had snapped.

Arriving in his pit box, Tor put his car in neutral while the jack men jacked him up and the other mechanics rapidly replaced all four of his tires before he was dropped down and allowed to drive out of the pit lane feeling a lot more balanced in his car.

Don't Let Go: Day 5

Word Count: 33,013

Summary of Events:

Uncle Zikki's funeral was held, during which Tor cried extensively — and, thus, was grateful that Uncle Zikki had wanted his pallbearers to wear their racing suits, complete with helmets, as it allowed him to keep the fact that he was crying so much hidden. Nevertheless, in a matter of days he was in Austria, where, after going out for lunch, he and his girlfriend, Madlenka, they then went on a hike, on which she asked him if he wasn't afraid to die, to which he replied that he wasn't, for racing was his life, and dying doing it wouldn't be a big deal; this, however, made Madlenka react with hurt and walk away from him…

Excerpt of the Day:

Taking long, brisk strides to catch up to her, Tor caught a gentle hold of her hand.

“I love you, Lenka,” he said as she stopped and turned to look at him.

She didn’t look like she believed him. He took up both of her hands.

“I really love you, Lenka” Tor said, even leaning in and kissing her right cheek softly. “But racing is what gets me out of bed every morning. You, on the other hand, would do a far better job of keeping me in bed.”

A small smile showed Madlenka understood the jovial intent of his closing sentence, even though he wasn’t able to make it sound as jovial as he’d meant.

“Even still,” Madlenka said, her smile fading. “I feel like you’re rushing back to being normal, or trying to rush back, and not taking the time to grieve, the time that you need to grieve. Don’t try and force yourself to be okay if you’re not just to pursue winning the championship. I know you’re a competitor and that you want to win not just the race, but the greater prize, but…”

“If you want me to be okay, then I need to race Lenka,” Tor said. “I can’t be okay without racing.”

Madlenka didn’t look terribly convinced, but she merely sighed before looking toward the trail ahead of them. Tor released one hand and they fell into silent step together onward.

As much as losing Uncle Zikki was one of the worst things Tor had ever had happen in his life — and far worse than the worst thing he’d ever wanted to have happen in his life — it was not so bad that it would make him turn away from racing in any way; not merely because Uncle Zikki wouldn’t have wanted him to stop or to be afraid, as Uncle Zikki had been one of the number who’d believed that, of the two of them, Tor was actually the better, more talented driver, and had believed that for that reason, chiefest of all, Tor would enjoy a more successful motorsport career than he had, but because he didn’t know what he would possibly do with his life if he didn’t race.

He could do without his cellphone, his video games, his family, food, anything, but he couldn’t be without racing, and not even the fact that it had taken from him one of the most dearest and beloved people in his life was going to stop him from continuing to do it.

It wouldn’t necessarily be easy, especially as he got to points in his motorsport career where he was more visibly following in Uncle Zikki’s footsteps than he was at present, but Tor didn’t know how he could possibly be alive without going racing, it just didn’t compute.

Maybe he was rushing back, but Tor didn’t think it was for the reason everyone thought he was. He wasn’t rushing back out of fear of losing the championship; he was rushing back because he didn’t know how to possibly live — especially in the face of the loss he’d suffered — without it.