Chapter Text
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ MORGAN ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
DECEMBER 2024
NO ONE EXPECTED FERNANDO ALONSO TO RETIRE AT THE END OF 2024. At least, I surely didn’t and I know no one I spoke with on the F2 grid did either. I spoke with Ollie about it first, calling him as soon as I saw the announcement; he picked up after the first ring.
“I take it you heard?” He asked, without even pausing to say hello.
“Heard that my idol is retiring?” I questioned, putting him on speaker as I paced around my room. “Yes, I heard.”
“I should have guessed this was coming when he didn’t announce a contract extension,” Ollie sighed, turning on his FaceTime camera. “Although, everyone was so shocked by Daniel’s move back to Red Bull.”
“I still don’t get that,” I shook my head, propping Ollie up on my desk as I sat down. “I mean, why take him back, after all these years?”
Someone appeared behind Ollie and I leaned closer to the phone to see who it was. He smiled and waved at the camera. “Ciao, Morgan.”
“Hey, Kimi,” I gave him a quick smile.
“Did you see that Alonso retired?” Kimi asked, leaning over Ollie’s shoulder.
“Yes, she knows, Kimi,” Ollie waved him away. “That’s what we’re talking about.”
“Who do you think they’ll pull up? I mean, everyone else is already signed somewhere except for Perez and Magnussen,” I ran a hand through my hair. “And I doubt Big Bad Stroll wants either of them.”
“Big Bad Stroll, huh?” Ollie laughed.
“Which one are you referring to?” Kimi added.
“You know which one,” I glared at the two of them.
“Aren’t you Canadian?” Kimi asked suddenly.
“Yeah,” I crossed my arms. “Why does that matter?”
“Stroll’s Canadian,” Kimi shrugged. “Thought you’d be happy there’s a fellow northerner on the grid.”
“Just because he’s from my home country, doesn’t mean I have to like him,” I rolled my eyes. “Were you the number one Giovinazzi fan?”
Kimi sucked air in between his teeth before nodding, “That’s fair.”
“Think they’ll steal Schumacher from Mercedes?” Ollie theorized.
“I doubt it, Omee,” I shook my head, the nickname rolling off of my tongue without a second thought.
“It’s too bad Sainz already signed with RB, otherwise I bet they would’ve taken him,” Ollie laughed.
“Two nepo babies on one team,” I joked, but quickly dropped my smile. “Sorry Kimi.”
He shrugged, “I’m used to it.”
Both of them turned their heads to the left, listening to someone off screen. They both nodded and Ollie looked back at the camera. “We have to go, Mo. Send me all your theories about who they’ll sign!”
“Will do, Omee,” I laughed. “Love, later, bye.”
“Love, later, bye,” he hung up, holding up a peace sign. I clutched my phone in my hands, doom scrolling through Instagram and F1 news outlets the rest of the night. I watched Fernando’s old races, rewatching (what would be) his last podiums. It was my dream to race alongside him one day, then suddenly that dream was squashed. Fernando retired and it was evident he wouldn’t be coming back this time. I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t hurting a little as I fell asleep.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
ONE WEEK LATER
MY PHONE RANG LOUDLY NEXT TO ME. I quickly reached for it, pressing decline quickly. Anyone who would be calling me knew better than to call me before 9AM on a Saturday during the off season. I rolled over and tried to fall back asleep. Not two minutes passed before my phone rang again. I sat up and grabbed it, staring at it angrily. It was 7AM. There was no caller ID, just a string of numbers.
“Hello?” I groggily answered, barely able to keep my eyes open as I held the phone to my ear.
“Morgan Finnley?” The voice on the other side of the phone asked.
I sat up a little bit, “Speaking.”
“This is Lawrence Stroll,” my mind spun as his title came out through my phone speaker. He described that he was the Chairman of Aston Martin Formula One Team, which I already knew, and paused. “We’ve been looking at your F2 career. Your stats are impressive; you’re good. I’m told you have a lot of potential.”
“Thank you, sir,” I nodded, tossing my blanket off of me.
“How would you like to move up to the big leagues?” Lawrence asked calmly.
“You mean,” I paused. “Drive in F1?”
“Yes,” he said curtly.
“You’re joking,” I laughed a little.
“Excuse me?”
I put my hand over my mouth and silently cursed myself. “I’m sorry. I mean -um- is this real?”
“It’s very real, Ms. Finnley,” Lawrence replied. I could hear his amused smile through the phone. “I will send you a copy of your contract that you can look over and we will go from there.”
I put my hand over the microphone and turned my mouth away. “Holy shit!”
“Ms. Finnley?”
“Right, I’m still here,” I said quickly, turning back to the phone. “Yes, send the contract. I will get back to you shortly.”
“Very well,” Lawrence exhaled. “I hope you decide to join us, Ms. Finnley. Have a nice morning.”
“I- Thank you, sir,” I nodded. “Buh-Bye.”
“Goodbye,” he hung up then. I held the phone to my ear a moment longer, my mouth agape. Aston Martin wanted me . Sure, they were desperate for a driver to fill their second seat, but they chose me. I dropped my phone and cheered out in excitement. I was going to race in Formula One. My dream.
I quickly picked the phone up again and opened my messages with Ollie. Above the textbox, there was a list of theories for who Aston Martin would sign, memes, and terrible inside jokes we shared. I quickly typed out a message.
Me
I know who they're signing…
I knew Ollie was probably still asleep, but I waited for his reply for a few minutes anyway, anxiously biting my nails. I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and hair as I stared at myself in the mirror.
“You’re going to be an F1 driver, Morgan,” I smiled at my reflection. She smiled back; her cheeks rosy and her eyes filled with excitement despite it being far too early in the morning. I quickly took my pajamas off and got in the shower, my smile never fully fading from my face. I played my music too loud and happily sang along out of tune.
“Morgan Anna-Marie!” My aunt pounded on the door, dropping my middle name angrily. I quickly turned my music down and the shower off. “You’ve been in there forever!”
“Sorry, Aunt Bitta,” I shouted back, climbing out of the shower and throwing a towel around me. I flung the door open, hair still dripping.
“What are you doing up so early? Your flight back to Winnipeg isn’t for four more days,” she asked, looking annoyed at how much water was dripping onto her floor.
“I got a phone call this morning,” I beamed at her.
“That Ollie boy of yours?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Surprisingly, no,” I shook my head.
“Then who?” Aunt Thabitha crossed her arms.
“Lawrence Stroll,” I grinned.
“Who?”
“The chairman of the Aston Martin Formula One Team.”
She perked up a little, smiling with me. “What for?”
“There’s an empty seat for the 2025 season,” I explained. “And they want me to fill it.”
“Morgan!” she gasped. “Morgan, no messin’? You’re going to F1?”
I nodded, feeling my cheeks burn deep red.
“Oh my God, Morgan!” Aunt Bitta cheered, pulling me toward her and hugging me tightly. “This is incredible news! I’m so proud of you!”
“Thank you,” I smiled, attempting to hug her back while holding my towel up.
“Oh, did you tell your parents?” She held my shoulders.
“It’s not even 2 in the morning in Winnipeg, Bitta,” I chuckled, reminding her that we were halfway across the world in Blisworth, UK. “And it isn’t official. I still have to go over the contract.”
“Right,” she nodded, letting go of me. “Right, well, call them as soon as possible, hon. I’ll let you go get dressed and then we’re going to breakfast to celebrate.”
She reached out and held my cheek lightly. “I’m so, so proud of you, love. You’ve worked so hard to get here. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, Bitta,” I repeated, feeling pride swell in my chest as she let go of me and walked back to her bedroom. I stepped into my own room and began getting dressed. My phone dinged and I picked it up.
Ollie 🐻
Why are you up so early?
Me
That’s your question??
Ollie 🐻
What’s your guess Mo?
Me
It isn’t a guess…
I KNOW who they chose
Ollie 🐻
They released it?
I missed it
Me
That’s because I haven’t signed the contract yet…
Ollie 🐻
is calling…