Chapter 4: Between Classrooms and Curves
The alarm buzzed at 6:45 AM.
Alex groaned under the blanket, his arms wrapped around his pillow like he could squeeze another hour out of the morning. Outside, the faint hum of traffic signaled that Arnhem was already moving. The city never really slept—not in Alex's mind, at least.
His mother cracked the bedroom door open. "Alex, time to get up. School's in a bit."
"Mmm…" he mumbled.
"And training after school, remember?"
That finally got him moving.
At school, Alex sat near the window in his usual third-row seat. The familiar scent of pencils and floor wax hung in the air. His teacher started with spelling. Letters on the board blurred slightly as he blinked. He tried to focus, but his mind drifted.
His fingers tapped lightly on the desk. Right… left… apex… lift… brake… turn in…
Numbers were easier. In math class, he flew through the worksheet, but when asked to explain his thinking, his words stalled. He knew what to do, just not always how to say it.
At recess, Leo found him by the wall.
"You look tired," Leo said.
"Didn't sleep much," Alex replied.
"Training again today?"
"Yeah. Eefde."
Leo kicked a stone. "You're lucky."
Alex wasn't sure. He felt lucky on the track. Off it… everything felt heavier lately.
That afternoon, Alex sat in the backseat of his dad's car. His backpack felt twice as heavy.
"Everything okay at school?" Willem asked.
"Yeah."
"You don't look okay."
Alex didn't answer.
The track at Eefde opened up in front of him like a different world—wide and fast and clean. Victor greeted him with a nod.
"Same kart, but we tweaked the tires and the seat position," Victor said. "Today I want you pushing a little more on corner entry."
Alex suited up, slid into the kart, and gripped the wheel. The engine buzzed. The noise filled his chest. On the track, he wasn't tired. He was focused.
But after fifteen minutes, Victor waved him in.
"You're still holding back," Victor said.
"I'm tired."
Victor watched him for a second. "School?"
Alex nodded.
Victor didn't push. "Alright. We'll take it one step at a time. Training's not just about speed. It's about being consistent, even when your head is full."
Alex gave a faint nod.
"Let's do some technical work," Victor added. "Run that chicane again. Brake a touch earlier, coast, then commit to throttle. No jerky movements."
They ran drills for another 20 minutes. Fewer laps, more focus. Victor stopped him again.
"Better. You adapted. That's what matters."
Then Victor surprised him.
"Let's run a five-lap session. Push where you feel confident. But I'll be timing you."
Alex nodded and headed out again. Each lap became sharper, more fluid. He began to trust the kart under him. He felt connected. Alive.
Victor scribbled notes, nodding quietly.
Afterward, he told Alex, "This was a good day. Not because you were fast—but because you improved."
Alex's smile was small, but real.
That evening, Miriam looked at Willem over dinner. "He's exhausted."
Willem nodded. "And his teacher called. They want to talk."
"About what?"
"She said he's more distracted. Not misbehaving, just not fully present."
Miriam sighed. "Well, we knew this wouldn't be easy."
"He's still just six. He shouldn't be stretched this thin."
They both looked at Alex across the table. He was lining up peas on his plate like tires in a pit stop.
Later that night, they sat in the living room, the TV muted.
"Should we call it off?" Miriam asked. "The training?"
Willem was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know. But I don't want him to burn out. He's so young."
"He's different out there, though. You see it too."
"I do." He sighed. "Let's give it one more week. If it's too much, we'll scale back."
At the school meeting two days later, the teacher spoke kindly but firmly.
"Alex is a smart and kind student. But lately, he seems disconnected. His focus drifts. I know he's been training in his free time?"
"Yes," Miriam said. "Karting. Three times a week."
"Has anything changed at home?"
"No," Willem said. "And his support plan is still active. His needs haven't changed. He's just… more driven lately."
The teacher nodded. "We don't want to hold him back. But balance is important. He needs rest too."
That night, Victor spoke with them again at the track.
"I get it," he said. "I've worked with kids who are gifted. But school has to come first for now. Let's adjust—keep it light until after the tournament. Two days a week instead of three, if needed."
"We'll talk about it," Miriam said. "But thank you."
Later that evening, Alex sat on his bed, staring at a notebook filled with racing lines and sketches of the Eefde circuit. Willem entered quietly and sat beside him.
"School called," he said.
"I know."
"They just want to make sure you're okay."
Alex looked away. "I just want to race."
"I know. But you have to take care of yourself too. Training is important. But you need your mind sharp for both the track and the classroom."
"I'll try."
"That's all we ask."
He kissed Alex's forehead and pulled the blanket up.
As Alex stared at the ceiling, he pictured the long straight in Eefde. The rhythm of it. The calm. The speed.
The next morning, Alex sat back in the classroom. He tried harder to listen. When asked a question, he paused, thought carefully, and answered. Not perfect, but better.
At lunch, Leo handed him a sandwich. "Feel better today?"
"Yeah."
"You racing tomorrow?"
"Only training. But it's enough."
Leo grinned. "You're gonna be fast."
Alex allowed himself a small smile.
That Saturday, Alex returned to Eefde more rested.
Victor greeted him with a slight nod. "How's school?"
Alex shrugged. "Okay."
"Good. Today we're focusing on consistency over five laps. Not fastest lap—best average."
Alex rolled onto the track. The kart felt more familiar. He pushed steadily, remembering the chicane drills. Lap after lap, his times stayed within tenths of a second.
Victor raised a hand when Alex returned. "See? You're building control."
Alex wiped sweat from his brow. "Felt good."
Victor nodded. "If you train like this every week, we'll talk about letting you join a local heat next month. A real race. Not just for fun."
Alex's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
"You're earning it."
That night, over dinner, Miriam asked, "Still want to keep going?"
Alex looked at her. "Yes."
Willem smiled. "Then we'll make it work."
Alex gave a quiet nod.
He didn't say much. But the look in his eyes said everything.