Her dad clicked the microphone. “Lotta guys talking about you up here.” “They like my hair?” “They like your line and the fact that you moved a reject car up to fifth. Guys calling the race are watching you real close.” “They’re probably the ones who like my hair.” She laughed. “Tell them I’ll have my nails done in the network’s colors if I win.” “We got a green flag. Go. Go. Go.” Jamie shot forward and pulled even with the fourth-place car. By the time they reached the start/finish line again, she was in fourth and closing on third place. She checked her gauges as she went low, in sight of Chad and the other two in front of her. In her head, Jamie could hear one of her favorite songs playing over and over. She liked to listen to a group whose lead singer was a Christian and wrote all the music. Even regular radio shows, not just Christian stations, played their music. Bobbing her head, tapping on the steering wheel, she was in her zone. The cockpit was her favorite place in the world because here she felt in control, at home, and it was a place where she could use the skills she’d learned through years of driving.
