This Ordinary Life (6 page)

“I know, I know. I miss two days and now have to leave early. Not only that, but Hudson was going to try and conference me in to a call with WYN60 about the internship.” I sigh.

“Oh my God, you can't miss—”

“I'll tell her to move it,” I say. “It's for Danny.”

She nods solemnly and looks out across the courtyard. More people spill onto the lawn, groups gathered in clumps on the grass and tables, laughing, joking, having fun in the admittedly perfect day. But of course I can't enjoy a second of it.

Even though Sebastian and freshman girl are behind me, their presence burns into my back like some kind of laser beam of misery. It's not even that I want to be the one giggling on his lap and looking up into his eyes, because I don't. Even with my hurt feelings and squashed perceptions of what my relationship actually was, I can say honestly that I do not want him. I just want
none of it to have happened. My heart is tattered and flapping in my very empty, endless cavern of a chest.

I squint into the sun and breathe as deeply as I can. Things will turn around soon. I know it.

A
VOIDING
S
EBASTIAN GETS
easier as the days and weeks pass. We still have our one class together, but I sit in the front row and pretend he doesn't exist. I have no idea if he's still seeing what's her name, but I try to ignore the mere existence of my ex-boyfriend. Okay, ignore isn't quite the right word considering the gashes on my heart feel like they are just starting to scab. But I'm doing a good impression of not caring and finding other stuff to think about.

It's not all that hard to distract myself. I'm caught up in waiting for Ms. Hudson to come through with the radio interview. Since Mom made me miss my chance at the after school phone interview, Ms. Hudson has not been able to find a good time that works for the producer to talk with me. I went ahead and applied for it and sent in my preliminary broadcast clips, but it's been two weeks since my should-have-been field trip and I'm no closer to getting my foot in the door at WYN60. It would be one thing if any of the other internships I applied for had even responded, but at this late stage in the game I'm pretty sure no news means bad news. Ms. Hudson and her connections are pretty much my only hope. Plus, come on, it's WYN60.

I'm in my second-to-last period when I get called to the office. By the time I get downstairs my palms are sweaty and my breathing comes in short spurts. It's been a few weeks and, I realize now, I've begun to let my guard down.

Please let Danny be okay.

The secretary at the front desk smiles at me. “Hello, Jasmine. Your mom left a phone message for you. No emergency, dear.”

Even with her kind words, I can't turn off my racing fear, and I take the paper with shaking fingers.

I exhale as I read Mom's note. She's excusing me to leave early once again, to get home for Danny. She got called into work and I need to take him to his follow up at the neurologist.

Annoying how she thinks I can leave school whenever her schedule demands it. But at least Danny is okay.

And besides, silver lining, at least she's leaving me her car for the afternoon. I tuck the note into my pocket just as my cell phone buzzes. I duck into the bathroom to look at it. The cell phone rules aren't as strict in the hall as they are in class, but I don't want to take a chance so near the main office.

It's a text from Ms. Hudson.

Good news! Call with WYN60 tomorrow morning. Can you come to school a little early?

My stomach leaps. This is amazing. Can I come early? Of course! I have to. Mom will have to handle things with Danny in the morning.

YES! I type back, unable to keep the smile from my face.

I
LOVE DRIVING
Mom's car. It's an old beat up thing, a hatchback Civic from like decades ago. But it has a good radio and, hey, it's a car. After mostly walking, especially now that I've lost Sebastian as my ride most places, I'd drive a rusted out jalopy if it meant getting around.

Danny sits back in his booster seat, listening to his iPod. He bops his head and looks out the window, calmed as usual by his
music. He's quiet most of the ride and I navigate the roads that lead to his doctor's office.

“It's the Beatles, Jazzy!” Danny yells.

I smile absently as I stop at a red light. “Don't yell, I can hear you even though your music is loud!”

“What?” He bobs his head and hums loudly. I wave away his question and watch him in the mirror. His blinks become slower, longer. He seems tired, like he almost always does after school. As long as that's all it is. I turn onto the highway, distracted by my worry.

He nods off and is asleep by the time we reach the doctor's office. He grudgingly climbs out of the car, dragging the toes of his sneakers along the sidewalk and down the long hallway inside.

“I don't get why we have to come here again? Didn't I just go to the hospital?” He crosses his arms and stops short in the hallway. “I'm sick of coming here.”

I sigh and run my hands through my hair. Cranky Danny is no good for any of us. And he's right. He shouldn't have to be here. But I don't think a Life Is Unfair lecture is going to do any of us any good.

“Sorry kiddo,” I say, resting my hand on his shoulder. “I know it's only been a few weeks since your hospital visit, but Dr. Bee likes to check up on her favorite patients. Believe me, I wish you didn't have to be here either.”

It's true, of course. Him having to be here at all just about breaks my heart. Best neurologists around—I'll give Mom credit for finding good doctors—but damn I wish he didn't have to be here.

He bites his lip, eying up the receptionist with contempt. I steer him toward the fish tank in one of the waiting rooms.

“Tell you what,” I say. “You hang out here while I sign you in. If we get out of here in decent time, we can check out that new playground?”

“The pirate one?” His eyes light up.

“Yep. The pirate one. With the little adventure course?”

He nods sharply. “Fine.”

“But you have to cooperate. No complaining, okay?”

He scowls.

“And no scowling, either.”

A small smile quivers on his lips.

“What is that I see?” I sing song, as his smile widens. He tries to keep a straight face, but can't. I squeeze his shoulder again and make my way to the reception window, happy to have diverted a true tantrum. Danny is a mostly agreeable kid, but with tired Danny it could go either way. He watches the fish in the tank while I stand in line.

“Jazzy!” he calls as I hand over Mom's insurance card.

“One second, Dan,” I mutter as I fill out the sign in sheet.

“The fish are bigger, Jazzy. Come see. There are new ones too!” My brother's smile is genuine now, and I say a silent thanks to the heavens that his mood has shifted. When the receptionist hands back my card, I thank her and head over to the waiting room where Danny has practically pressed his entire skinny body against the huge glass fish tank.

“Oh wow.” I squat down to look at the fish from his viewpoint.

“Sunny?”

Wait.

I turn around and sure enough, Wesley, the boy from Danny's hospital room, sits in a chair against the far wall.

For real?

“Wes, right?”

His freckled cheeks lift when his mouth quirks up on one side. He's got one of those smiles you can tell is exactly how he looked when he was a little kid. Mischievous. Even the flop of hair on his forehead says he's probably up to no good.

“You remembered me,” he says.

“Oh. Well, you remembered me first.”

“Not every pretty girl is mean to random strangers who happen to be hospital patients. For the record. It makes you pretty memorable.”

“Come on! I was not mean. If I recall, it was the other way around. You were making fun of me.”

“I can hardly be counted on to be chivalrous from a hospital bed.”

Which reminds me. Here we are. He's a patient here too. I wonder what his story is, but I don't want to ask. Suddenly, the silence is awkward as I look around.

“Is your mom here too?”

“My mom?” his eyes widen. “Wow. I really am striking out on keeping your attention if you're asking about my mom.”

My face burns. “No. It's just that I met her, at the hospital. She was nice.”

“Yeah, she's fine. But tell me about you.”

That easy, he asks. Why can't I be that smooth?

I glance over at Danny, still standing pressed against the glass, tracing the paths of the fish. I motion to him.

“Danny has a follow up from the St. Bonaventure adventure.”

“Same here,” Wes says.

“Are you a patient of Dr. Bee too?”

“Yep. Since I was five or so.”

I nod.

“Seizure disorder, epilepsy.” Wes adds.

I look down at my shoes. I don't know why, but his honesty makes me feel exposed.

“Same for us.” I nod to Danny again, sitting at one of the game tables, now, pushing beads along the wire frames. “He had a bad one that week. So, there we were.”

Wes frowns. He tosses his head back to flip his hair out of his eyes. When he looks at me, mischief dances in them again. “But, you did meet me, right? So it wasn't a total loss.”

I consider his words. It's weird in a way, him downplaying Danny's hospitalization. But if I'm being honest, it's refreshing, too.

“Not quite a silver lining,” I say, tapping a finger against my lips. “Silver lining would have been meeting, I don't know, Dylan O'Brien or something?”

“Dylan O'Brien, really?”

“Yeah. Completely. Or even, maybe winning like a two dollar scratch off lottery ticket.”

Wes narrows his eyes. “A two dollar lottery ticket?” he deadpans. “Would have been better than meeting me?”

My grin starts to widen. “It's an apples and oranges comparison, really. Two bucks is two bucks.”

He opens his mouth to respond, his eyes glinting with that childish gleam again.

“Mr. McEnroe?” The nurse in the doorway looks out at us. Wes stands.

“Yeah. That's me.”

“This way,” she says disappearing through the door. He moves to follow and I'm filled with a sudden sense of, I don't know, being let down? I'm not sure exactly why though. He's fun to talk to. But also, meeting him by chance—twice? And… there he goes.

Oh well.

“Good luck,” I say.

“Thanks.” He disappears behind the nurse and my heart falls a little bit. Which is dumb. I barely know him. But still, he made me laugh. And for those few minutes? He was a good distraction.

I move Danny's pile of books from the seat beside me. “Hey Dan, want me to read you one of these?”

My brother looks up at me as if noticing me for the first time. “When I'm done!” he answers, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrates on a logic puzzle with beads and wires.

Okay then. I pull out my phone, curious to see if Mom even bothered to check in with me about Danny's visit. Missed calls: 0. Texts: 0. Way to go, Mom.

The nurse's door opens again. Hopefully, it's our turn.

Wes dashes out, and stops in front of me. “Sunny,” he says. “Coffee?”

“Excuse me?”

He huffs impatiently, but his eyes still have that been-smiling-my-whole-life look in them.

“Mr. McEnroe?” The nurse's voice, much more impatient now, drifts from the hallway beyond.

“Come on, I'm going to get in trouble. You aren't going to insult me again, are you? I'm worth less than two bucks, I know. And you kick a guy when he's down, scream at him while he's hospitalized…”

“Would you stop that? I did not. But I'm confused. What did I do now?”

“Coffee,” he says. “Me, you. Getting coffee. Maybe even some dessert to go with it. You do eat dessert… Please tell me you eat dessert?”

“Yeah, of course. Who doesn't eat dessert?”

“You'd be surprised. So? Coffee?
And
I'll make sure you don't burn yourself this time.”

“Um… sure. Yeah, I guess?”

“Ouch.
Sure yeah I guess?”
He shakes his head all mock sad. Then as if to himself, “I have definitely lost my touch somewhere along the way.”

“No! I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. It's been kind of a crazy day. Week. Life. I don't know. Holy foot in mouth Jasmine.” And
then
I have the audacity to further insult my character by wincing and barking out my horrible nervous laugh, the one reserved for really awkward moments like when I tried to pull out a pen at lunch and a tampon went flying across the cafeteria in front of everyone, and I mean everyone, like the whole junior and senior class. I can almost still hear the snickers and shocked silence.

Wes stares at me, wide eyed.

“What?” I ask.

“So… are you going to give me your number? Because I don't know about other people, but just so you know, the seizures I have personally did not, unfortunately, give me any psychic abilities.”

Oh my God.

“What? Oh! Sure.” I whip out my cell. “What's your number? I'll text you.”

“Nice. A girl who knows what she wants. I like it.” His grin widens again and I roll my eyes.

“Now you're just being stupid,” I smirk.

The nurse's voice calls again from beyond the door and he nods toward it, giving me wide, hurry up eyes. But he gives me the number and I quickly text him so he'll have mine.

Hi.
I write.
It's Jasmine
.

He glances down at his phone with a smile before disappearing from the waiting room doorway.

I
GET TO
school super early the next day for my conference call with Ms. Hudson and her contact at the radio station. Even though it's only a phone call, my palms are sweating like crazy. When I wipe them on my capris, the comforting jingle of my favorite bangles calms me as Ms. Hudson dials the phone.