A/N My first fanfic... ever. Hope you enjoy :)


The green and blue race car drove across the tiled floor at the party in Japan. She had never met any of these racers before. They were from all over the world - the best of the best. Carla was the best in Brazil. At home, she could beat any car, any day. But here, at the World Grand Prix, things were different. The competition was tougher by far. She had never been pitted up against such talent and skill. It was almost intimidating - almost.

She passed a platform with a massive screen behind it. Francesco Bernoulli was in the center, his image being projected to the whole party.

"Miss Sally's gonna flip!"

Carla immediately turned her attention to the tow truck with the strange accent, talking with the Formula One car. Reversing a little, she could get a better look at what was going on. Lightning McQueen seemed to be talking with the two of the other vehicles.

"I wouldn't say she's a big fan..."

The Brazilian race car smiled. McQueen seemed a bit intimidated by Francesco. Especially when it came to his girl. "Eh," she thought, "I don't blame her. Francesco is definitely good looking, although his attitude could use some work." Carla did think the Formula One was attractive, sure, but his cocky smirk and his conceited behavior definitely marred his image. Almost as if in response to her thoughts, her assumption of him was confirmed by -

"Ah, Francesco is used to this kind of response to Francesco..."

Carla rolled her eyes and drove away. She couldn't stand any more testosterone. How could one car alone be so enthralled with himself? And what was with the always talking in third person? Backing against the wall in a darker corner of the room, she could get a better view of everything. The racecar rolled her eyes again and sighed, "Men."

"What about us?" came a familiar voice.

Carla jumped. "Oh, Cruz, you startled me," she said, relaxing into a smile once she realized who it was.

Her crew chief cruised up and parked next to her. "I bet you can't wait to beat the paint off these guys tomorrow, right?" he smiled slightly, glancing around the room.

"If I win. This is tough competition, Cruz."

"You're not nervous are you?"

"A little," she admitted.

"Ah, you will do great! I bet you will even leave that Francesco guy in the dust!"

Carla sat up a little higher on her axels. "I should think so!" she smirked, remembering Francesco's earlier comment. "It takes talent to win races, not just good looks!"

"Good looks, huh?" Cruz raised an eyebrow at the race car.

"Even so," Carla continued, glancing sideways at her crew chief, "I'm glad I'm not married to a Formula One car. Or any racecar." She gave one deciding nod with her hood, and continued watching the other cars at the party.

The Beetle nodded. "Anyway, you should go. Sir Axelrod is about to announce all the racers for the Grand Prix," he instructed.

"Oh, already? I'll see you tonight then," she said as she began to drive away.

"Go get 'em, Veloso," Cruz said with a wink.

Carla stopped and smiled back at her crew chief. "Only at my races, dear. I'm Carla Besouro everywhere else," she replied, returning the wink.

Cruz grinned as his wife joined the other racers on the platform. Whether she won or not, she would always be number one to him.