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“Why’s Jannie so far behind?” my grandmother asked.
Damon said, “They’re fighting the stagger, Nana. We won’t see where she really is in the race until they come out of the second turn.”
Ali said, “That’s when she’ll kick in the afterburners.”
As the four athletes still in contention entered the far turn, I made sure the camera was still on them. Then I noticed that the coaches below us were all on their feet, watching the race and taking quick glances at their stopwatches.
I could see now that Jannie was gaining on the girl from Richmond, who was running hard herself. So were the athletes committed to Florida and Syracuse. Then my daughter did something I’d seen her do multiple times but that was still breathtaking to witness. Midway through the final turn, Jannie tapped into some God-given reservoir of energy and athleticism deep within herself.
She hit another gear.
Her stride lengthened, causing her to bound more than run as she finished the curve and blew past the girl committed to Syracuse. In the far outside lane, the young lady set to attend Florida was flying. So was the girl from Richmond. They were all neck and neck entering the homestretch.
The crowd in the stands roared louder when Jannie hit yet another gear and swiftly opened up a ten- and then twenty-yard margin before blazing through the finish leaning forward. The high-schooler from Richmond finished second and the Florida-bound recruit a winded third.
Jannie took her foot off the gas, slowed to a jog, and turned.
The Florida athlete appeared astonished. The Richmond girl had her arms overhead. The coaches were going wild.
But my focus was on Jannie. One of the track officials had run out and was saying something to her. My daughter looked at the man incredulously before she fell to the track, sobbing.
CHAPTER 25
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAMEjust happened?” Nana Mama demanded.
“Did they disqualify her, Dad?” Damon said.
Ali cried, “No, she was in her lane!”
“I thought so too. I’ll go see,” I said, my stomach souring as I tried to get down through the crowd in the stands and onto the track.
Disqualified? She’s going to be heartbroken.
I passed the women’s coach from the University of Texas, who slapped me on the back and said, “How does that one feel, Dr. Cross?”
I thought that was an odd thing to say, and I turned to look at her. “That Jannie was disqualified?”
“Disqualified?” the coach said, and she threw her head back and laughed. “She wasn’t disqualified! Jannie just ran fifty point seventy-four!”
“That’s good, I think,” I said, relieved.
“Good? Your daughter just tied the national high-school record in the four-hundred, Dr. Cross!”
My jaw dropped. “What? No.”
The coach had tears in her eyes before I did. “Yes! And I know I told you she should be a heptathlete, but I would be absolutely honored if she came to Texas to run the four-hundred for the Longhorns.”
“Not if she comes northwest to the land of Nike,” said the coach from the University of Oregon, a long, lanky guy who was now standing beside the Texas coach.
Several other coaches I recognized were all looking at me for hope.
I wiped away my tears, threw up my hands. “Your guess is as good as mine!”
After yelling the news up to Ali and Nana Mama, I got down on the track and ran to Jannie, who was back on her feet and surrounded by athletes, coaches, officials, and spectators, all clapping and congratulating her. She saw me, burst into tears again, and ran into my arms.
“Tell me,” she said, trembling against me. “Fifty point seventy-four seconds. Tell me I just did that, Dad.”
“You did. I saw it. We all saw it.”
