Transition: Chapter 15 (Copley Square)

“Jillian.” Jago seems to be studying her face for clues. “Jillian, are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” She’s squinting as her eyes adjust to the light, so everything’s a little fuzzy, but... Is that a palm print on Jago’s face? “Are you alright? What’s going on out here?”

But then it’s no longer just her and her coach, it’s her and her coach and a dozen reporters, and they’re all shouting questions at her at the same time. There’s no problem, Jillian keeps assuring them. It was just a simple misunderstanding. Everything’s cool.

“Jill! Jill Kendal!” Jillian doesn’t even have to look to know it’s the pushy lady reporter. Again. “WRSX news. I need to talk to you for a minute.”

WRSX news? She doesn’t even have a name? “I’m talking to my coach right now, Miss...”

“Andersen, Leida Andersen.”

“...Miss Andersen, but if you’ll catch me after the awards ceremony, I’ll be happy to tell you anything you want to know.”

“What I’d really like,” Leida continues, unheeding, “is for you to come to the studio tonight so I can interview you in a more relaxed setting. Will you do that?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” Jillian hedges. She enjoys being on TV, but... on this lady’s show? “I’m not real sure about my schedule yet. Why don’t you ask me after the awards ceremony?”

“Why not interview her right now?” Jago suggests amiably, cocking an eyebrow. “Jillian is always eager to speak into a microphone, are you not, my dear?”

For an instant, a mere fraction of a second, Leida instinctively begins to raise her mike hand. Then she remembers that it’s empty. Then she remembers why it’s empty.

Jago smiles benignly.

“Why don’t you go back to Russia?” Leida snarls. “We don’t need you here.”

“You have been misinformed. I am Czech, not Russian.” Now that he’s caused Leida to lose her temper, Jago is clearly enjoying himself. “And as it happens, I left Czechoslovakia specifically to get away from the Russians. But even the Russians know better than to issue press credentials to every Nazi who claims to be a journalist.”

“Jago!” Jillian is stunned; Jago’s always the one telling her to mind her manners. “What on earth is going on with you two?”

The opponents stare at each other warily, Jago with a sardonic half-smile, Leida blinking back her anger and trying to regain her composure.

“Uncle Stan?” Kennedy has been hanging back, as if trying to distance himself from the action, but now he takes a few reluctant steps in Jillian’s direction. “What’s going on?” she hisses at him in a stage whisper, as soon as he’s in earshot.

“We, ummm...” Kennedy is uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “We were all concerned, shall we say, about the outcome of the race,” he explains. “And I’m afraid that some of us have been edgy, and perhaps even a little short-tempered.”

“Where’s Sunshine?” Jillian turns around and cranes her neck, trying to see over the heads of the crowd. “She was supposed to wait for me out here.”

“The last I saw of her,” Kennedy says, obviously pleased with the change of subject, “she was speaking with those Hare Krishna people, or whatever they were. Did you notice them? The ascetic figures in the white robes? They were standing right over there, remember? They looked like refugees from the sixties.” He looks at Jago and Leida for confirmation, or perhaps just to involve them in a civil conversation. Jago shrugs; Leida nods in halfhearted assent. “They were there just moments ago,” Kennedy adds, “but they seem to have vanished. Perhaps they kidnapped her. Should we issue an Amber alert?”

“Oh, Uncle Stan,” Jillian laughs. “Stop that. I’ve got to find her. She really saved my...”

I mean she really saved me in there.”

“Well, then, I think that it would be a splendid idea if the two of you went off to look for her, don’t you think so, Coach Danziger?” Kennedy motions with his eyes for Jillian and Jago to take off, then he turns to Leida and graces her with a dazzling smile. “Besides,” he says, “I believe that Miss Andersen and I still have some things to discuss, do we not?”

And before Leida can object, or even figure out what just happened, Jillian’s pleased to see Kennedy grab Leida’s arm and lead her off into the mob that mills around the historic confines of Copley Square.