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"Jill! Jill Kendal! Can you hear me? How do you feel? Are you going to win the race?" Without even looking up, Jillian knows. A reporter. A lady reporter, trying to prove that she's just as brassy as the guys. How typical. But Jago will handle it... "What are you doing?" Even though they are standing no more than a few yards from each other, Jago is screaming at the reporter loudly enough to be heard, Jillian suspects, all the way over on the other side of the transition area. "She is in the middle of a race! Are you crazy?" Calmly, Jillian slides her feet into a pair of bright yellow Falconi CrossTrainers. Then she looks up. A short, somewhat stocky woman stands at the fence, speaking into a small microphone as she waves at Jillian. She sports a garishly colorful warm-up suit, orange and lavender with turquoise stripes; it looks too clean and neatly pressed to have ever been involved in any kind of athletic activity. Beside her, a large round man, unkempt in shabby jeans and a torn T-shirt, points a video camera in Jillian's direction. Jillian rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Reporters. Unbelievable. Jago continues to scream, something incomprehensible, perhaps not even in English. He advances on the reporter, waving his arms wildly. Moving with surprising speed, the large round cameraman interposes his considerable bulk between Jago and the reporter. "Back off, buddy," he snarls, never moving his camera's focus from Jillian. "We're press," he adds, as if that explains everything. "Jill?" Ignoring the commotion, the reporter leans a little farther over the fence. "Jill? Do you still have a chance? Are you going to win this one?" Jago's face turns a deep shade of crimson. His eyes bulge. His hands tighten into fists. Every muscle in his taut frame seems to stiffen, and a low growl rises in his throat. Jillian stifles a sudden urge to giggle as an image of a cartoon Jago with steam whistling out of his ears pops into her head. My God, she thinks, he's losing it. He's going to start a fight. Right here in the transition area. Awesome. But instead, Jago kicks at the ground in disgust, throws his hands into the air, and spins angrily away from the cameraman. He mutters a few words, kicks at the ground again, and mutters some more. Finally, after one last hot glance at the reporter, he strides grimly back to the fence. "Just go," he hisses at Jillian through clenched teeth. "Just go, Jillian. Go now." Jillian finishes tightening the bright yellow shoelaces. She rises to her feet. She looks at Jago. She looks at the lady reporter. She looks at the large round cameraman. She looks into the camera... "Jillian." Somehow, Jago manages to sound both disgusted and desperate at the same time. "Jillian, please..." She knows that Jago is right, she does have a lot of time to make up. But still, a few seconds isn't going to make any difference one way or the other, and it's impossible to resist the opportunity to tease Jago, he's always so serious... And so she stands on her toes and stretches her arms high into the air, and then she bends forward with her chest to her legs and grabs the backs of her thighs, and then she squats and bounces on her knees a few times... Am I going to win this one? What a question. Staring into the camera, she thrusts both hands out in front of her, chest-high, fists clenched, thumbs up. "Watch me," she says. Then she grins and winks. Wheeling around, she pulls a bright yellow Falconi NoSweatBand over her head and breaks into a trot as she heads out of the transition area. "Reel them in, Jillian," Jago calls after her. "Run them down." She raises a hand and waves back over her shoulder. "I got 'em, Coach," she says, annoyed that something in Jago's tone gives her the impression that he doesn't think she can actually do it. Without breaking stride, she snatches a cup of water from an outstretched hand, pours the cool liquid over her head, and throws the cup to the ground. Then she grabs a cup of PowerAde and downs it in two quick gulps. "I got 'em," she says again, to no one in particular. And then, as she gains speed, once more, to herself, with conviction. I got 'em.
Next: Chapter 3 (Hopkinton) [ Transition Home Page | Transition Blog ] Transition: The OnLine Triathlon Adventure Novel
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