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Chapter Text

𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘀𝗲ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

Córdoba – 04/06/25

The dining table in Córdoba was my battlefield again.

Books scattered like debris from a crash: Theory of Knowledge with its endless questions on ethics, Environmental Systems and Societies with graphs on pollution that made me think of exhaust fumes, Mathematics problems that twisted my brain like a high-speed chicane. The IB deadlines loomed like a red flag. I was 16 for sixteen more days, but the scar above my left eye made me feel a decade older.

I rubbed it absentmindedly, the thin white line still tender. The small braid hung beside it, untouched. The dark blue hair fell in layers around my face. I looked up from the laptop — the cursor blinking on a half-finished essay — and glanced at the clock. 11:47 p.m.

My phone buzzed.

Max Verstappen – Video Call

I answered. His face filled the screen, the Monaco night behind him. Lily was asleep in her bassinet, a small pink bundle. Penelope must have been with Kelly.

"Hey," he said softly. "You look like you're fighting a war with that homework."

I smiled faintly. "It feels like one."

We talked for a while — about the upcoming GP in Canada, about how Lily was starting to smile, about the new upgrades on the car. Max was in his element, voice steady, but his eyes kept searching mine.

"You're preparing for something else too, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

I nodded. The project secret. The offer from Andy Muschietti's team. I hadn't told him yet, but he knew me too well.

"I leave for Canada tomorrow," I said. "The 5th. Early flight."

He tilted his head. "And this... project. It's big?"

I hesitated, then nodded again. "Big enough to change things."

He didn't push. Just looked at me with that quiet intensity.

"Be careful," he said. "Don't burn yourself out."

The call ended a few minutes later. I closed the laptop and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The water felt high tonight — the pressure, the hate, the endless need to be perfect.

I closed my eyes.

The phone buzzed again.

Kimi Antonelli – Video Call

I answered without thinking.

Kimi's face appeared, his room in Italy dark, lit only by the screen. He looked tired, hair messy, but his smile was immediate.

"Hey," he said, voice low. "Can't sleep?"

I shook my head. "Too much in my head."

𝗸𝗶𝗺𝗶ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

I couldn't sleep either.

The races were starting to weigh on me. Being a rookie in F1 was like jumping into a storm — the speed, the pressure, the constant scrutiny. Every weekend felt like a test I wasn't sure I'd pass. The car was fast, but the grid was unforgiving. Antonelli. The name carried expectations I hadn't asked for.

And then there was Nessa.

I thought about her constantly. The way she drove — relentless, cold, beautiful. The way she laughed with us rookies. The way she looked at me sometimes, like there was something unsaid hanging between us.

But I had Eliska.

My girlfriend. The one who was there before all this. The one who waited for me at home in Italy, who sent me messages every morning.

I loved her. I did.

But Nessa was in my head more than she should be.

When I called her that night, it was an impulse. I needed to hear her voice.

"Hey," I said. "Can't sleep?"

She shook her head. "Too much in my head."

We talked for almost an hour. About nothing and everything. She told me about her ToK essay. I told her about a stupid mistake I'd made in the sim that day. We laughed about the rookies' group chat blowing up with memes.

But underneath it, there was something else.

I wanted to say it.

I think about you all the time. I know I shouldn't. But I do.

The words were on the tip of my tongue.

But I chickened out.

Eliska was waiting for my call tomorrow.

So I said goodnight instead.

And when the call ended, I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer I could keep pretending it wasn't there.

𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘀𝗲ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

The call with Kimi ended softly.

I lay back on the bed, the water feeling a little lower in my chest.

Tomorrow I flew to Canada.

Tomorrow the project began.

I closed my eyes and whispered to the dark room.

"Let's see what happens."

The hunter was ready.

But the girl who still wanted to feel something soft... she was still there too.

For now.

Chapter Text

𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘀𝗲ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

The plane to Canada felt like crossing into another world.

I boarded alone on the 5th of June 2025, still sixteen, my birthday fifteen days away. The flight from Córdoba was long — thirteen hours with a stop in Madrid — but I didn't mind the solitude. No family. No team. Just me, a backpack with my Absolute Batman comics, and the scar above my left eye pulling slightly as I leaned against the window.

The stewardess recognised me halfway through. She brought me an extra blanket and whispered, "Good luck in Canada. Show them what you're made of."

I smiled politely and thanked her.

But inside, my mind was already elsewhere.

The offer for Welcome to Derry had come two weeks earlier, right after Spain. Andy Muschietti himself had called — his Argentine accent making it feel like talking to an old family friend. He'd seen my footage from the races, he said. He liked the intensity in my eyes. He thought I could bring something real to Teagan Novak — a character he'd created for the series, a fighter in 1960s Derry, facing horrors no kid should face.

I hadn't told anyone yet. Not Max. Not Kimi. Not even my mum.

It was my secret.

My new skin.

The plane touched down in Toronto Pearson Airport at 7:42 p.m. local time. The air was cooler than Córdoba's winter — crisp, with a faint smell of rain and city exhaust. A driver was waiting with a sign that read "N. Kane" — no full name, no fuss. He took me straight to the hotel, a quiet boutique place in downtown Toronto, far from the F1 circuit in Montreal. The production team had booked it for the cast. No paparazzi. No distractions.

My suite was on the sixth floor — clean lines, white sheets, a balcony overlooking the CN Tower glittering in the twilight. I dropped my backpack on the bed and looked at myself in the mirror. The dark blue hair fell in layers around my face, the small braid untouched beside the scar. I looked older than sixteen. Sharper.

The hunter was still there, in my eyes.

But tonight, I was here for something else.

A black car picked me up at 9:30 p.m. The driver didn't speak. We drove through the city lights to a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts — the set for Welcome to Derry. Security waved us through. I stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic fading behind me.

Elena Vargas, the casting director, was waiting at the entrance. She was in her late forties, with sharp features and a warm smile.

"Nessarose," she said, shaking my hand. "Welcome. Andy's excited to meet you in person. The young cast is already here for the first table read. Come on in."

We walked through a maze of corridors — props rooms filled with creepy clown makeup, sound stages with fake Derry streets under construction. The air smelled of fresh paint and sawdust. My heart was beating faster than it did on a qualifying lap.

The table read room was simple — a long wooden table, scripts stacked neatly, bottles of water, and a few snacks. The young cast was already seated, chatting quietly. They looked up when I entered.

Elena introduced me.

"Everyone, this is Nessarose Mendes Kane. She will be Teagan Novak."

The room went quiet for a second. Then smiles broke out.

Arian Cartaya — the 12-year-old playing Rich Santos — jumped up first. He was short, with dark curly hair and a mischievous grin, his Cuban roots evident in his warm, animated gestures.

"Hi! I'm Arian. You're Teagan? That's cool. Your character is badass."

I smiled and shook his hand. "Thanks. I'm Nessa. Nice to meet you."

The others stood up one by one.

Matilda Lawler (Marge Truman, 16, American) gave me a quick hug. "Welcome. The script's intense, but it's fun."

Clara Stack (Lilly Bainbridge, 15, American) waved. "Hi! Your hair is amazing."

Miles Ekhardt (Matty Clements, 13, American) grinned shyly. "Hey."

Amanda Christine (Ronnie Grogan, 16, American) leaned forward. "You look like you've been in a fight. Cool scar."

I touched it lightly. "Racing accident. Long story."

Blake Cameron James (Will Hanlon, 15, American) nodded. "Respect."

Mikkal Karim-Fidler (Teddy Uris, 15, Canadian) and the Molloy Legault siblings (Jack as Phil Malkin, 15; Matilda as Susie Malkin, 10, both Canadian) waved from the end of the table.

Then Finley Burke (Donald Uris, 19, Canadian) stood up. He was tall, with messy dark hair and a quiet intensity in his eyes. His handshake was firm, his gaze lingering a second too long.

"Finley," he said, voice low. "I'm Donald. Teagan's... love interest, I guess. Nice to meet you."

I felt a spark — subtle, warm. "Nessa. Looking forward to working together."

Andy Muschietti arrived a minute later, with Barbara and Jason Fuchs. Andy hugged me like an old friend — Argentine to Argentine.

"Bienvenida, Nessa. Your energy is perfect for Teagan. Let's get started."

We sat down for the table read.

The script was dark — Derry in 1962, kids facing horrors, Teagan Novak as the protective, competitive leader. I read my lines carefully, feeling the character come alive. Teagan was strong, loyal, fierce — like the part of me that had survived Imola.

During a break, the cast started passing phones.

"Instagram?" Arian asked, pulling out his phone. "Let's follow each other."

Numbers were exchanged. Handles shared.

Arian was the first to react when he saw my profile.

"Wait... what? You're a Formula 1 driver? Like, actual F1?"

The room went quiet. Eyes turned to me.

I smiled, small and sarcastic.

"No, from the circus, you know? Yeah, I'm a driver... Why?"

Arian's eyes widened. "That's insane! You drive those cars? Like, 300 km/h?"

The others leaned in — surprise, curiosity, questions flying.

Matilda Lawler: "How do you balance that with this?"

Clara Stack: "That scar... from a crash?"

Finley looked at me with something new in his eyes — admiration, curiosity, a hint of tension.

Andy chuckled. "We knew. That's why we wanted her. Teagan needs that fire."

The reading continued. By the end, I felt... lighter. Like this new skin — Teagan Novak — was a place where the hunter could rest.

For now.

𝜗ৎ

Toronto – 07/06/25

The first day on the set of Welcome to Derry felt like stepping into a dream — or a nightmare, depending on the scene.

I arrived at the warehouse at 8 a.m., still jet-lagged from the flight the day before. The production team had set up a craft services table with coffee, bagels, and fresh fruit. Elena Vargas was there to greet me again, her smile warm and professional.

"Ready for your first table read?" she asked.

I nodded, the small braid brushing my cheek. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The read room was buzzing with energy. The young cast was already there — Arian Cartaya (Rich Santos) was juggling oranges, laughing as one fell and rolled under the table. Matilda Lawler (Marge Truman) was sketching something in a notebook. Finley Burke (Donald Uris) was sitting quietly, script in hand, but his eyes lifted when I entered, lingering a second too long.

"Morning, Nessa!" Arian called, catching the last orange. "You look like you didn't sleep. Jet lag?"

I smiled, small but genuine. "Something like that."

We sat down around the table, scripts open to the first scene. Teagan Novak — my character — was introduced early: a competitive kart racer in 1962 Derry, protective of her brothers and friends, facing the horrors of Pennywise with a fierce determination. As we read, I felt Teagan come alive. Her lines were sharp, loyal, with an edge of humour that made the group laugh.

During a break, Arian leaned over. "Your accent is cool. Where are you from?"

"Argentina," I said. "But I live in Córdoba."

Arian's eyes lit up. "¡No me digas! Yo soy cubano-americano. ¿Hablas español fluido?"

I grinned. "Sí, claro. ¿Y tú con ese acento cubano?"

We switched to Spanish for the next five minutes, trading jokes about our accents. The others watched, amused, as Arian did a ridiculous imitation of a Cuban trying Argentine empanadas. It felt easy. Natural. Like finding a little brother I didn't know I needed.

Finley watched from across the table, his expression quiet but interested. When our eyes met, he gave a small smile. I looked away first.

Bill Skarsgård arrived for the afternoon rehearsal. He was tall, Swedish, with a fraternal warmth that reminded me of Max. "Nessa," he said, shaking my hand. "Teagan's got fire. You have it too. Let's make Pennywise regret messing with her."

We improvised a scene — Teagan confronting Pennywise. Bill in character was terrifying, but off-script he was all jokes, making goofy faces to break the tension. The group erupted in laughter when he tripped over a prop and blamed "the clown shoes."

By the end of the day, I felt... lighter. The hunter in me was still there, but Teagan's role let me be fierce without the coldness.

Toronto – 08/06/25

Day two was wardrobe fittings and blocking for the first episode.

Clara Stack (Lilly Bainbridge) and I shared a dressing room. She was 15, American, with a bubbly energy that cut through the horror script. "Your hair is amazing," she said, touching the blue tips. "Teagan would totally have blue hair if it was 2025."

I laughed. "Thanks. It was an impulse."

We spent the afternoon practicing lines while in costume — 1960s dresses for Teagan, with a leather jacket for her "rebel" moments. Arian joined us, doing a ridiculous dance to loosen up. "Rich Santos is the comic relief," he said in his Cuban-accented English. "But with Spanish flair!"

Finley came by during lunch. "Need help with the lines?" he asked, sitting down beside me.

We read a scene where Teagan and Donald share a moment — quiet, tense, with underlying romance. His voice was low, intense. When we finished, he looked at me. "You make Teagan feel real."

I felt the spark again. Subtle. Warm. I looked away. "Thanks."

Bill pulled me aside later for a fraternal chat. "Acting horror is like racing — control the fear, don't let it control you. You've got the eyes for it."

Andy Muschietti joined for the blocking. As an Argentine, he made me feel at home. "Nessa, Teagan is like you — fighter. Use that."

Toronto – 09/06/25

Day three was rehearsals for a key scene: Teagan's first encounter with Pennywise.

Bill was in full makeup — terrifying, but he kept breaking character with jokes. "Boo!" he said in a silly voice, making Arian jump and spill his water. Laughter echoed through the set.

Arian and I bonded over lunch — he told me about his Cuban family, I shared stories from Córdoba. We switched to Spanish, leaving the others confused. "What did you say?" Clara asked. Arian grinned. "Secret code."

Finley sat next to me during a break. "Teagan and Donald have chemistry in the script," he said quietly. "We should practice that scene."

We did. The lines were tense, romantic. His hand brushed mine. I felt the spark again. Subtle. Warm.

I pulled away first.

Toronto – 10/06/25

Day four was costume adjustments and group bonding.

Andy led a workshop on Derry's atmosphere. Bill shared horror stories from IT. "Don't look in the drains," he joked, making Matilda Legault (Susie Malkin) squeal.

Arian and I did improvised scenes — Rich and Teagan bantering. His Cuban accent made the lines hilarious. "¡Teagan, you're too fast!" he said in Spanish. I replied with Argentine slang. The group laughed.

Finley and I read a romantic scene. The tension was palpable — eyes locking, voices low. When it ended, he smiled. "Good work."

I nodded, heart beating faster.

Toronto – 11/06/25

Day five was full rehearsals for episode 1.

We filmed test shots. Bill as Pennywise was scary, but off-camera he was brotherly, giving me tips like Max would. "Use the scar. It adds depth."

Arian became my sidekick — we pranked Clara with fake spiders. Laughter filled the set.

Finley and I had a quiet moment. "You're good at this," he said. "Teagan feels real with you."

The slow burn was starting — subtle, warm, undeniable.

By the end of the day, I felt part of the family.

The hunter rested.

For now.

𝜗ৎ

And there you have it, dear reader — my big, bad secret. Me, Nessarose Mendes Kane, the girl who survives crashes and podiums, now pretending to be a 1960s kid fighting a killer clown. Oh, the irony. As if F1 wasn't enough of a circus already. But hey, at least this one has better makeup.