“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 an
y 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.
7
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.
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 us
e 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.”
This Ordinary Life Page 5