This Ordinary Life (7 page)

When her friend answers, they banter for a bit and small talk about the good old days, before Ms. Hudson gives me a smile and motions for me to come closer to the speakerphone. I sit across the desk from her and she places the phone between us, on a stack of music books.

“So, Roberta. I'd like to virtually introduce you to one of my star students. She is an absolute delight on the air. Her name is Jasmine Torres. I suspect you received her application and clips?”

“Hi there, Jasmine! I'm sure we did.” A friendly voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi! It's so nice to meet you. Well, not officially meet you, but, well, you know.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Shut up, Jasmine.

“Jasmine was supposed to be at the trip a few weeks ago, but she had a family emergency and unfortunately had to miss it.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” the voice says. “I hope everything is okay.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate that. I was really upset to miss the trip. I was really looking forward to it. Radio is, like, all I care about. It's my dream!”

Can I sound any more stupid?

“So we are calling to see if there is any way possible we can schedule a time to talk,” Ms. Hudson says, using a careful and professional voice. “As we already mentioned, Jasmine has sent in an application for the summer internship and I think you'd really like her. I know you probably don't have time to talk in depth with her now, but if we could set up a time that is good for you, perhaps?”

“How about this,” the woman says, papers rustling in the background. “I have an opening Monday after next. By that time, we will certainly have narrowed down all the applications and the physical interviews will have started. Why doesn't Jasmine come in for an in-person meeting? I'd love to meet you, Ms. Torres, and possibly show you around a bit.”

Monday after next. My mind races, darting from home to Danny to Mom to school. How can I do this? No matter how, I have to make it work. Fake it till you make it will work just fine this minute anyway. I'll figure out the details later.

“Sure!” I say. “That sounds great. Yes, I can definitely make that work.”

By the time we hang up, we've managed to set up all the details of the meeting. Ms. Hudson is a freaking life saver and even offered to travel into the city with me to go to WYN60. To say I owe her huge is the understatement of the year. I practically skip out of her office. Perhaps all hope is not lost after all. Now, I just have to hope I have what it takes to beat out whatever other applicants they narrow it down to.

Even though there's still forty minutes until first bell, Frankie is waiting by my locker when I get there. I smile and pull her into an exaggerated hug that is way more her style than mine. I
even dance a little while we're hugging, which makes her break into laughter.

“So I guess it went well?” She grins.

“Better than well! The lady, Roberta, from WYN60 is willing to meet with me for a private interview for the internship. Hudson's going to go into the city with me. Monday the 15th.”

“Sweet. I knew Hudson would make it happen!”

“It's just a meeting. There are no guarantees. Plus, she said they'll be interviewing other applicants by then too.”

“Come on! Enjoy the moment. This could be huge.”

My smile widens and bubbles of excitement inch through my belly.

Frankie's face turns serious. “How's Danny?”

“Better. They upped his meds. Fingers crossed.” My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out. Wes's name lights up the screen and I can't help it, I smile.

“Don't even tell me,” Frankie says, her nose scrunched in disgust.

I look up. “What?”

“You didn't take him back, did you?”

“Take who back?”

“Um, Sebastian, you know, boyfriend of almost a year who you recently broke up with? Don't lie to me. I'm your best friend, remember. I'll see through your crap. I know that little smile.”

I slam my locker. Absolutely nothing can get me in a bad mood today.

“Who says it's Sebastian?” I say, as coyly as I can manage. “There are millions of boys in the world you know.” And with that, I take off down the hall, leaving Frankie with her mouth open behind me. I scroll to Wes's text and grin at the picture of a Starbucks coffee cup.

coffee date soon?

Seeing the word date makes my stomach clench, worse than the first time I was live on the air, even. I am so not ready for anything remotely like that. Not a date. But I still can't help smiling as I text him back.

perhaps.

I type as Frankie skids to a stop beside me. She puts a hand on my arm.

“Please,” she says, all out of breath like the track star she most definitely is not. “Please tell me you aren't messing with me and that is an actual boy that is
not
Sebastian that you are texting?”

“Yep.” I nod.

I relish the look of pure astonishment Frankie gives me. It's rare I can shock my best friend.

“What? Who? How?” She sputters.

“I'm completely late,” I say. “I promise to fill you in later.”

She huffs. “Come on! Give me
something
.”

“I met him at the hospital. He goes to the same doctor as Danny.”

Frankie's eyes go all bug-eyed wide. “What! And you didn't tell me?”

“I didn't really think anything of it, and then…”

“And then he's texting you and you're all goo goo smiling.”

“I'm not goo goo smiling! At all. Come on, I broke up with Sebastian, what, a few weeks ago? I mean, it's not like I want him back, or whatever, but I'm not about to jump into something else right now.”

“Mm hmm. But tell me about
him.”
She nods to my phone.

“Later, I promise.”

“A name at least?”

“Wes. Come on, I told Ms. Hudson I'd up the editing quality on my recordings for my portfolio for the interview. She's blocked off the studio for me during study period and I get to broadcast the morning show today so I gotta get to work.”

Frankie squeezes my arm before I turn away. “First period, then. I want all the details. Go do your thing. I'll be listening!”

Rushing down the hall, I turn into the arts wing and head for the studio. When I close the studio door behind me, my pulse slows as I step into the familiar surroundings. Ahhh. It's like coming home. Better than actually, when you consider my current home situation.

The studio is my ultimate space. It's a small room, taken up mostly by a rectangular table in the middle, three chairs, a few mics and computer monitors. But it's got cool, retro-style desk lamps in rainbow colors, for when you don't want to use the overhead. Even though the microphones and the soundboard are old, they're real radio station stuff. So it feels very official. No matter what's going on when I slide into the chair in front of the main mic, I can never keep the smile off my face or the flutter of excitement from my veins. And even though we use only digital music now, the walls are still lined with crates of CDs and even albums that were donated over the years, making the room cozy and colorful. The walls that aren't stacked with music have various radio station posters. More pictures of Ms. Hudson and all sorts of recording artists are framed here too.

Easton High may be small, but we do manage to maintain our own dedicated radio station. It broadcasts before and after school, as well as lunch periods. You can only catch it in the cafeteria and study rooms over speakers, but we're also on Easton 1620 AM a few hours a day, which comes in for about a twenty-mile radius. Pretty cool.

Because there aren't a ton of radio students, it's not always manned during the radio show hours, so we do play a lot of prerecorded segments.

I text Wes back a smiley face while I get the equipment set up. Turning on the computer, I adjust the microphone and jam the broken band of my headphones together well enough to stay put before sliding them over my ears. Twenty minutes until classes start means students will be arriving or on their way. The breakfast kids are probably already down in the cafeteria.

“Good morning Easton High!” Warmth envelopes me as I talk into the mic. “It's Thursday morning and we are one day closer to the weekend. I'm gonna kick it back with some old school summer jams. Coming your way to bring us back to the sandy days down the shore, here are the Beach Boys.”

I start the song, click the microphone off, and sit back in my seat with a smile. Any stress I was feeling before walking into this room melts away like I'm on the beach myself. No, actually, this room? Better than the beach any day.

I check the screen to make sure the show is recording and get ready for my talk segment. I laugh nervously at what I have planned, but I'm going to go for it.

My phone dings again.

so…tonight?

perhaps, i said. can't u read?;)

I laugh as the phone dings again. Wes.

i see

And then:

no dessert for u. :p

When the last song of my set ends, I pull the microphone toward me. “Hope ya'll are awake out there, Easton. Today we are talking about relationships. Do you have one? Have you ended one? Are you looking for one or running as far away from commitment as fast as you can? Email me at Eastonmornings at Easton dot edu and tell me your story. Let's start with the worst break up stories. If you've got one, bring it my way. And in the meantime, here's a song on that theme, which I am officially declaring the theme of the morning.”

I hit play on Taylor Swift's “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” and sit back in my chair with a grin. My stomach squeezes like it's being wrung out by two iron fists. I know it's a low blow to Sebastian, but I couldn't resist. Even if I'm slowly starting to heal, he deserves it. In here, in my Easton Mornings DJ chair, I'm untouchable.

My phone buzzes. Must be Wes again.

It's Sebastian.

Eek.

Really, J?

I don't answer. Screw him. He's the one who got caught with another girl. He deserves to feel like crap
and
a little bit of covert humiliation.

Another buzz. Wes.

so? tonight. yes or no? check one, lol.

I smile.

where do you go to school? I type.

what? u want to know what I'm wearing?

haha. um… no.

babylon.
he writes.
u?

easton. ur close, then. what are you doing right now?

um, right this minute? cramming for a history exam i forgot about. ha.

are you home or in ur car?

my car. just pulled up to school.

turn on your radio.

wait, what?

it's an a.m. station. 1620.

why?

just do it. boy, u suck at following directions.

very funny.

just listen to it.

um? ok. finding it now…

BRB

I switch back to the microphone as the song comes to a close. “Good morning guys and gals. If you're just tuning in, we were talking this morning about tough break ups. The email is blowing up and I want to thank you, Easton High School, for sharing your stories with me.” I scan my computer quickly. “Here's one from someone identifying themselves as Heartbroken Fifteen. This listener was broken up with by text message and then blocked from her boyfriend's phone before she could even respond. Man, that is rough. I've heard some bad ones, especially lately, you wouldn't believe it if I told you, but wow, that is low. Hope you're moving on, Heartbroken Fifteen. You definitely deserve better. Keep the stories coming in, listeners. This is Jasmine Torres, bringing you all your favorite before-school jams. And now, this next song goes out to a friend of mine. Hey, Wes, listen up. This one is for you since I know you're a huge Justin Bieber fan.”

I hit the button to play Bieber's latest. As soon as my mic is off, I burst out laughing.

My phone, of course, buzzes.

OMG Is that seriously you on the radio

surprised?

very. there's more to Sunny than meets the eye.

u have no idea.

Don't ask where these comments came from. Like I said, being in the studio makes me all crazy confident like not a thing can go wrong in my world.

but bieber! really?

haha

oh u wait. revenge will be sweet. so… about that coffee date tonight????????

fine. I pause. but stop calling it a date. friends only.

I know, it sounds harsh. But I do not need another boy situation at this point.

friends it is.

:)

I smirk at the screen and lean into the microphone to finish my show.

“Hello again, Easton High! I'll be wrapping up after another song or two, so here is me, wishing all of you a very happy Thursday. Today, I think, is going to be a very good day, indeed.”

I can only hope Wes is still listening. Sebastian too, for that matter.

I'
M GRATEFUL
I only have one class with Sebastian. But still, I can barely drag myself to last period English. The day has been buoyed by my good mood, impending internship interview with Get Up and Go, and coffee with my new friend tonight. That's if I'm right and Mom is not working as per usual Thursday nights.

Please, please, universe, give me this.

But when I walk into English, my eyes scan the room. All the good feelings drain as quickly as if a stopper has been pulled out of me, when I see Sebastian in his corner seat. He's looking down at his lap with a smirk. Probably texting someone.

Good mood, gone.

Mr. James is at his desk. He's a mess, as usual, briefcase spilling papers all over, glasses practically dangling from the end of his nose. I smile, trying to ignore the pit of worry gnawing my stomach at the thought of having to spend forty five minutes in the same room as Sebastian.