Chapter 8: Sunday Race Day
Sunday morning brought an early chill, dew still clinging to the edges of the circuit barriers as the sun slowly rose over Eefde. The paddock felt different today. Yesterday had been controlled, timed, and focused. Today buzzed with tension. The scent of oil and rubber hung in the air, and even the quiet moments felt charged.
Alex stood beside his kart in full race gear, helmet in hand. His number—11—was already smudged with yesterday's effort. Victor was checking tire pressure while Willem and Miriam watched from the paddock fence.
"How are you feeling?" Victor asked without looking up.
"Ready. I think."
Victor gave him a sideways glance. "You don't have to dominate today. Just learn. Race smart. That means knowing when to push... and when to wait."
Alex nodded, jaw tight. He wasn't expecting to dominate. He just wanted to prove that yesterday wasn't a fluke.
The drivers' briefing was short and clear. Ten laps. No pit stops. No second chances. Grid positions from qualifying. Jesse would start second. Lars, third. The others, further back.
On the way to the grid, Jesse walked by and gave Alex a quick look. Not a smirk this time. Just focused.
The karts were rolled out to the starting grid. Engines started one by one. The air filled with the high-pitched whine of small but furious machines.
As they formed up for the rolling start, Alex kept his breathing steady. The kart vibrated under him. He gripped the wheel tighter.
They reached the final corner before the start-finish straight. The formation was tight. Alex glanced up.
The starting lights flickered on. One by one, red lights lit up across the gantry.
Five red lights.
He held his breath.
They went out.
Alex got a decent launch but Jesse reacted quicker. By Turn 1, they were side by side. Alex held the inside, but Jesse swept around the outside with momentum, just ahead as they exited.
Turn 3 came fast. Jesse defended early. Alex backed off, not risking contact. Behind them, Lars pressured from third, but couldn't find space.
Lap 2. Alex stayed close. The gap between him and Jesse was half a second at most. He studied Jesse's line, noticed how wide he ran on Turn 6. Too wide.
Lap 3. Jesse locked up into Turn 1. Alex almost had a run, but backed out again. He reminded himself: Don't rush it. Let him make the mistake.
By Lap 4, the tires were hot. The karts twitched more under braking. Jesse started sliding slightly out of corners. He was pushing hard. Maybe too hard.
Lap 5. Alex saw his chance.
He set it up through the chicane, taking a tighter exit line and staying right on Jesse's bumper down the back straight. Into Turn 7, Jesse defended the inside.
Alex went high, looped wide, then cut back. Perfect switchback.
He had the better exit.
Side by side into Turn 8.
Alex braked a split second later, held his line, and emerged ahead.
Clean. Aggressive. Smart.
Now he was in front.
Lap 6. Jesse didn't give up easily. He stayed within half a second, shadowing Alex through every corner. Alex knew one mistake would undo everything.
Victor's voice played in his head: "Calm. Controlled. Don't defend too early. Just drive."
Alex focused on his lines. He took wider entries, smoothed out his exits. Lap by lap, he found more rhythm.
Lap 7. The gap extended slightly. Jesse made a small mistake under braking, locking his rear tires and drifting slightly off line. Alex noticed it in his mirrors.
Lap 8. One full second ahead now. He started to relax—not too much, just enough to trust the kart.
Lap 9. He looked up briefly on the main straight and saw Leo waving his arms behind the fence. It made him smile inside the helmet.
He took Turn 3 perfectly. The kart felt like an extension of himself.
By the start of the final lap, Alex had a 1.4 second lead.
He didn't look back.
He just drove.
Each corner was measured. Each braking point precise.
No mistakes.
Turn 10 came into view. The final corner. He rolled through it cleanly, apex to exit.
Alex crossed the line first.
He coasted into the cooldown lap, arms shaking, heart racing. The wind on his visor felt colder now, but also freer.
Back in parc fermé, the silence was louder than the race. He climbed out slowly.
Victor met him at the barrier, hands in his pockets, smiling.
"Told you. It's not about domination. It's about knowing when to strike."
Alex just nodded, too tired to speak.
The official results were pinned to the board:
Final Results – Top 3:
Alex Vermeer
Jesse van Loon
Lars Meijer
Jesse walked by, helmet off, hair a mess. He gave Alex a short nod. "Nice one."
Alex managed a smile. "You too. That was close."
From the fence, Leo was shouting, pumping his fists. Willem gave a proud whistle. Miriam had tears in her eyes.
The podium ceremony was held at the front of the paddock, a small platform with three wooden steps, the tallest one in the center. A checkered flag banner flapped in the breeze behind it. Parents and mechanics gathered around, some with cameras, others with just quiet smiles.
Alex stood just behind the podium area, still trying to catch his breath. A race official handed him a cap and guided him forward.
Lars climbed onto the third step. Jesse took second, eyes focused forward. And then, Alex stepped onto the top step.
Applause erupted. He squinted against the sun, looking down at the crowd. Leo was still cheering like mad, jumping up and down. His dad was laughing. His mom had her phone out, recording every second.
A small trophy was handed to each of them. Alex's felt heavier than it looked.
He held it up briefly, not too high, just enough.
A modest smile. A quiet moment.
As he stepped down from the podium, Leo ran up to him.
"Bro! That was insane! You flew past Jesse like a rocket. I swear I thought he had you."
Alex laughed, finally letting the tension leave his shoulders. "I thought he had me too."
Willem ruffled his hair. "Smart race, kid. Very smart."
Victor joined them, arms crossed but smiling. "You earned this one. No luck, no fluke. Just brains and skill."
Alex looked down at the trophy in his hands. His first.
Not a perfect race.
But a real one.
He belonged here.