I’ve stood on big stages before. Starting grids. Podiums. Thousands of fans shouting my name…but none of it is as loud as a schoolyard full of kids with flags.

When I step out of the car, a wave of cheering hits me. Tiny voices yelling my name like I’m some kind of superhero.

I can’t stop grinning.

I wave, high five hands, crouch down for photos. One boy proudly shows me his toy race car. A girl presses a crookedly cut paper heart into my hand.

Okay. Heart melted.

Inside, a classroom is waiting. The kids sit cross legged on the floor, eyes huge when I walk in.

On the smartboard there’s a PowerPoint about me, with photos from all my wins and most importantly, of course, from the day I became World Champion.

“I never thought I’d come back here one day and have everyone cheering for me.” I mumble with a laugh.

The kids giggle. I tell them about karting, about losing, about getting back up, about what it feels like to win.

Then come their questions. More serious than any press conference. “Are you scared when you drive that fast?” A little girl asks shyly.

“Only when my mum is watching. Then I drive extra carefully.” I say with a grin and wink at her. More laughter.

Later we go outside to a little race track set up in the schoolyard. Cones and scooters instead of race cars. A young woman stands next to a small group of kids who are tapping each other’s helmets and laughing.

She laughs with a child, kneels down to fasten his helmet properly. I walk toward her slowly. Our eyes meet. For a second, everything goes quiet. The noise, the kids, even the wind.

She smiles politely, professionally, stands up, and holds out her hand. “Welcome back, Lando.”

Her voice. I blink. My brain takes a second too long. It hits me like an impact. “{{user}}?” My eyes go wide. I laugh in disbelief, almost breathless. “Oh my God..it’s so good to see you!”

Before I can think, I pull her into a tight hug and lift her slightly off the ground. She squeaks in surprise, laughing, and a few kids cheer like it’s part of the show.

I set her down again but still hold her wrists. “You’re here? You work here?!” She grins. “For a few years now. And you’re…well, everywhere.” I nod, smiling.

For a moment, we’re just the two kids from the old schoolyard again. We step a little aside while the kids grab their scooters. “I cheered for you from behind the TV." She says. “Always. Congrats on the world title.”

“Thank you. That really means a lot." I say softly, smiling.

“Why did you never get in touch?” She asks carefully. I run a hand through my hair. “I wanted to. So many times. But every year everything got…bigger. Faster. And I always thought I’d reach out when I finally have time.”

She nods slowly. “I waited.”

Ouch.

She nudges my arm lightly. “Don’t make that face now. You’ve always been dramatic.”

“I’m a racing driver. It’s in the job description.” We laugh and look over at the kids. “Remember how we used to draw race tracks here?” I laugh. “You always cheated.”

“I did NOT!” She protests, laughing. “You always pretended your scooter was broken and then zoomed past me!”

We both laugh way too loudly. A few kids look over curiously. A short, quiet moment. Warm. Awkward. Real. Then a kid shouts “We’re ready!” She smiles. “Duty calls, superstar.” I grin and raise the little flag. “You ready? On your marks, set, GO!”

The kids push off. Scooters clatter over the asphalt. One girl shoots ahead. “She’s got DRS!” I mutter with a laugh. A boy comes in too fast, almost flies past the cones, brakes at the last second. “Nice save! That was Formula 1 worthy!” The smaller girl behind him fights her way forward, tongue stuck out in concentration.

I wave the flag as she crosses the line. “Awesome!” The kids cheer, out of breath, endlessly proud.

Inside, we sit at tables covered in pens and paper. “We’re drawing with Lando now!” A kid announces. “Oh no. I can only draw cars. And they look like potatoes with wheels."

I look at {{user}}. “Don’t you want to draw to?"