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“I just ran my race,” she said, weeping. “I just stuck with the plan and believed.”
“And a miracle happened,” I said, only then realizing I was still holding my phone. I lifted it off Jannie’s back and peered through my tears at the screen.
Bree was gaping at me. “Is this for real?”
I nodded at her. “Can you believe it?”
Behind my wife, Marjorie, the store clerk, started jumping up and down and pumping her fists, cheering.
“That was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen on a phone!” Marjorie yelled.
In my arms, Jannie started to laugh. She turned to look at my phone.
“Unbelievable,” Bree said, tears flowing. “I’m so proud of you, Jannie.”
“I am too!” Marjorie yelled.
“Who is that behind you, Bree?” Jannie asked, still laughing.
“Oh,” Bree said. “That’s Marjorie, my personal shopper!”
“Woot!” Marjorie cried. “You’re a rock star, Jannie!”
My daughter thought it was hilarious when the young lady came closer, waving. She waved back and then left to take a urine drug test because she’d been invited to a national development camp in June and the U.S. Track and Field Association required it.
“And I have to get fitted for my gown,” Bree said. “Thank you for filming that, Alex. I’ll never forget it.”
“I don’t think any of us will,” I said. “Have fun with the dress.”
Her face disappeared from the screen.
Ali and Nana Mama came down to the field after the eight-hundred-meter race ended. Jannie returned from taking her drug test and there were more hugs and congratulations.
A photographer and a reporter from theWashington Postappeared and spoke to Jannie and her coach and me. Many of the coaches who had recruited Jannie were watching from the perimeter. Then Gail Andrews, a popular local television sports reporter, and her cameraman came onto the scene, and we had to do it all over again.
As that interview wound down, Andrews gestured at the pack of coaches still standing off to the side and then lookeddirectly into the camera. “Jannie Cross is one of the most heavily recruited track athletes in the nation,” Andrews said. “Fifteen top Division One schools have offered her full scholarships.”
She turned back to my daughter. “Jannie, a whole lot of folks are interested in knowing where you are planning to run in college next year. Can you give me an exclusive and put these poor coaches out of their misery?”
Jannie’s smile faded a little. She glanced over at the coaches, then back at the sports broadcaster, emotion making her cheeks quiver. “I can do that. I know where I want to be next year.”
“Really?” Andrews said, thrilled and grinning. “Well, okay, where does your future lie? Which one of the fifteen colleges dying to have you will you choose, Jannie Cross? Texas? Oregon? University of Southern California?”
Jannie glanced at me and Nana and Ali before looking back to the reporter.
“Here,” she said, beaming. “I want to run here, on this track. This magical track.”
Andrews looked a little puzzled. “You want to run for Howard University?”
Jannie nodded and looked over at the pack of coaches, many of whose faces had fallen. “I want to run here if Coach Oliver’s offer is still good, yes.”
David Oliver, the track coach at Howard, wasn’t even in the front row. He came around ten or twelve other coaches with a stunned and then joyous expression on his face. He pumped his fist at the sky and went over to Jannie. “Of course the offer’s still good,” Coach Oliver said, putting his hand over his heart. “Do you really want to run for me, Jannie? With all these other powerhouse offers?”
“Yes,” Jannie said firmly. “I want to run for you and for Howard, Coach. You won the world championship from here. You made it to an Olympic podium from Howard. And I want to run as a Bison, right here where my family can watch me.”
CHAPTER 26
Greenwich, Connecticut
