This Ordinary Life

by Jennifer Walkup

  “So,” he says. “What’s with that interview thing you were talking about?”

  I take a deep breath and feel instantly filled with excitement. “It’s an on-air interview. We’ve had a ton of budget cuts at Easton in the last few years. It’s honestly a miracle we still have the radio station, but Ms. Hudson fights hard and I bet puts in a bunch of her own money to keep us going. Anyway, student government has been working with the PTA and Board of Ed to figure out which programs stay, which programs go, what we need to do as a school to keep what we want, and all that. So I’m interviewing this girl Farrah, the president of the SGA to talk about it all. I know it probably sounds boring, but at our school, people are really worried they’re going to lose their particular extracurriculars.”

  “That sucks. So, you want to practice your questions on me? I do an awesome student government impersonation.” He tosses a piece of apple in the air and catches it in his mouth.

  I laugh. “I haven’t written them yet. Thanks to last night’s later than expected St. Bonaventure adventure, I have nothing to practice. Tomorrow, though. I have to get this done.”

  Wes nods and squints into the sun overhead.

  Not that I want to compare because that is a dangerous game that has the potential to put you on the fast track to crazytown, but Sebastian had never and would never give a crap about my radio work. I try to imagine him offering to help me prep an interview. Would never happen.

  I push Sebastian’s name and face as far from my mind as possible, mentally throwing the whole relationship over the side of this cliff. It’s a weird moment, like I’m being reborn up here, leaving everything behind that I don’t want or need, or tossing it off the mountain and letting it fly away. I close my eyes and turn my face to the sun. The peace of the woods and the quiet and the warmth lull me into a sort of forced meditation. When I open my eyes, spots dance in my vision and the light touches everything differently than when I last looked. Wes stares at me with a tiny smile.

  I slide my sunglasses back down over my eyes. “What?”

  “You looked so peaceful.”

  “Completely,” I say.

  “That’s why I love it up here,” he says. “It’s just… free. No expectations.”

  “Yep. No problems or responsibilities.”

  After a few more minutes of silence and peace, Wes stands up, extending a hand to help me to my feet. His light hair hangs in his eyes and he sweeps it back with his other hand. When he pulls me up I stand a little too close to him for a beat too long before turning toward the path.

  He sighs as we start to make our way down the trail. “I don’t suppose you would tell me what you were thinking about up there, huh?”

  “Not a chance.” I follow his footfalls down the path. It gets rocky in places and I reach a hand out against the passing tree trunks to keep my balance.

  “How about this?” Wes is out of breath, but his voice still carries that childish la-dee-da of mischief. “I’ll tell you one of my deep dark secrets and you tell me one of yours.”

  I keep walking down the steep path. I don’t even know how to respond to that.

  “Okay,” he says. “This is horrifically embarrassing and I’ve never told a soul. Ready?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I broke my arm when I was ten years old. I was on the roof pretending to fly a plane and fell off.”

  “Oh my God! You’re lucky you didn’t break your head open.”

  He laughs. “My parents freaked out. It was summer so the whole neighborhood was practically outside. It was very dramatic. But I’ve wanted to fly a plane since I can remember and that valley where our two roofs meet always looked like a cockpit to my ten-year-old eyes. I couldn’t help myself. Your turn.”

  I consider how to answer as I follow closely behind him.

  “No one knows this.” I say this in an ominous way as if I’m spilling the deepest of dark secrets. I pause for dramatic effect. “But black jellybeans are my favorite flavor.”

  Wes stops and turns around, his face all mock horror as if I told him I’d once killed someone. “Ew! Who likes black jellybeans?”

  “Exactly.” I hang my head in shame. “Hence the secrecy.”

  His, much-as-I-hate-to-admit-it, adorable smirk pops up.

  “Next confession,” he says, turning back to the path. “My first seizure was when I was five years old. I spent most of that year in the hospital and had to repeat kindergarten.”

  My heart dips, imagining him young and vulnerable. Just like Danny. I watch him climb down the path in front of me. He’s on the thin side, but agile, vulnerable but confident. I can only hope for the same for my brother.

  “When did you get them under control?” I ask softly.

  “By seven or so? The medicines can sometimes be a bitch though. But they work. I’ve had some breakthrough seizures, especially in middle school. But nothing else in years. I go in once in a while now for tests, like when I met you, but that’s it.”

  “That’s awesome.” And I mean it too. The thought that he can live with this, successfully, happily, normal. Ordinary. My heart squeezes with hope for my brother.

  “Your turn.”

  How do I follow that confession? What can I reveal about myself? His confession definitely deserves something honest.

  I take a deep breath. “I caught my boyfriend cheating on me. Like literally walked in on him. Them. Really recently. So we broke up.” I feel stupid when I say it, but well, there the words go, filling up the air just like the sunshine waltzing down through the break in oak leaves overhead.

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. Total asshole. Obviously.”

  “Sounds like a complete idiot to me. To cheat on a girl like you.”

  I shrug, ignoring the burn in my cheeks.

  “How long did you guys go out?”

  “Almost a year? I don’t know. Too long. Waste of my time.”

  My mouth goes totally dry. Talking about Sebastian was a bad idea. I reach around into my backpack to get my water. My foot slips with the shift and I cringe, arms flailing as I try and grab onto something so I won’t hit the ground.

  “Oomph.” I land with a soft thud and blink into Wes’s blue eyes, which are about one inch from mine. He wiggles beneath me and I realize he broke my fall. His body is warm against mine, his heavy cotton cargo shorts scratchy on my skin. Damn my short shorts.

  And now, listeners, let’s share some of the most mortifyingly awkward situations in our lives!

  “I’m so sorry.” I squirm off him and try to stand. The steep incline only makes me lose my balance again and I tip forward, grabbing his shoulder for balance. I land on him again, practically straddling him this time.

  Awesome. Kill me now.

  I scramble off him, sitting on the ground beside him and wishing I could fall straight into the center of the earth.

  Wes laughs as he grabs my hands tightly in his. He means to help me up, I know, but his thumbs brush across my knuckles. And his eyes never leave mine.

  “Most awkward non-date ever?” I say to break the silence.

  “Yeah.” He stands up and, still holding my hands, helps me up. “About that…”

  Our hands are still clasped between us, his gaze dropping down to my lips.

  What is my brain thinking? Or not thinking? I drop my hands and move to continue on the path. But Wes blocks the way and won’t move. Even when I try and shoulder past him.

  “Seriously,” he says quietly. “Why?”

  “Why what?” I dig in my bag for the water bottle that caused me to lose my balance in the first place. My mouth is all Sahara desert and besides, I don’t want to talk about it.

  His hand on my arm stops my rustling and when I look up, he’s still staring at me.

  “Come on,” he says. “Let me take you on a non non-date.”

  “No.” Screw the water. This whole thing was a mistake. I’m not ready for this. I zip my bag and push around him. The trail levels out and I pick
up speed. His footsteps soon fall in step with mine, beside me. Infuriating.

  “What if it’s a really bad date?”

  “Nope.”

  “If I make it terrible, it will hardly count as a date at all, really.”

  I walk faster.

  “You can pay for yourself! Hell, you can even pay for me, if you want. It will be the non datiest date ever.”

  I shake my head.

  “What restaurant do you hate? I’ll take you there.”

  My lips betray me by twitching into a smile. Thankfully he’s behind me and can’t see.

  “We’ll even sit at different tables. You can pretend you don’t know me.”

  Giggles start to bubble up my throat, like some elementary school volcano science project.

  “You just don’t give up, do you?” I say, out of breath. I turn around with my hands on my hips.

  He trots up beside me, all smiling and disheveled from our trek and, thanks to me, tumble on the trail.

  “I’m feeling a little hopeful,” he says. “Is that what I should be feeling?”

  I start down the trail again, more slowly this time. “I’m not going out to dinner,” I say.

  “Breakfast? Lunch?”

  “No. A meal is definitely a date. And don’t even think about suggesting a movie.”

  He hands me his canteen and I stop to drink the cool water. Instant relief. Never mind that my lips are touching where his lips just were.

  “Next weekend,” he says. “How about Saturday? I’ll come up with the worst plan ever. I promise.”

  12

  I SPEND ALL of Sunday working on my interview questions, doing homework, and hanging out with Danny. Mom is working a double shift at the bar, which hopefully means buying Danny’s medicines this month will be easier to afford. Not to sound like her, but the hospital bills will be rolling in soon and that means she will be tearing her hair out and freaking out about how to pay for them. Even with insurance, there is always so much to pay for, and for her to stress about and drink over. I haven’t even been for a checkup in three years, to try and save money. Not that she told me not to go. I just stopped making my appointments. In the world of Elena, kids do for themselves as soon as they can. She sure as hell isn’t going to remember to make something as simple as a checkup appointment for me.

  I think that’s why Danny’s illness turned her even worse than she used to be. She had all this added pressure to start doing extra stuff for him, being a mom, showing up places and taking care of him. She did it for a while, and a decent job at it, too. But then it was all too much for her to handle, so as soon as I could step in and pick up the slack, I did. Thankfully I’m a lot older than him. When Danny got sick, Mom’s drinking, which started to be a problem back when Dad left, turned into Mom passed out on the couch pretty much every single freaking day.

  And today listeners, let’s talk about Jasmine’s pathetic life! Up next: how to fool the world into thinking your family is normal to avoid being reported to child services.

  I sigh. Danny is getting better. If we can get his seizures under control and keep them that way, that’s all that matters. Even if Mom is messed up, Danny has me. But what if he doesn’t get better? What if he gets worse?

  I think about Wes. How confident he is, how he seems to have a perfectly normal life doing normal high school stuff. Why can’t Danny have that same bright future? Another tiny kernel of hope blossoms.

  I think about Wes and my non non-date next weekend and wonder what terrible idea he’ll come up with for us.

  I know it’s too soon to look forward to hanging out with a boy, but the admission whispers through me that I really am. It doesn’t have to mean anything, anyway. He’s a friend, who happens to be a boy. A cute boy. A very sweet, funny and witty boy.

  Oh my God, Jasmine you are actually listing his good attributes. You need to chill.

  And you actually used the word witty.

  Anyway, it’s not a real date. I’m not ready for something like that. But I’m allowed to have fun with someone who makes me laugh.

  End of story.

  My cell phone rings, pulling me out of my daydream. Good thing too, because I need to get back to work.

  Sebastian.

  Oh, hell no.

  Just what I need. I send it to voicemail and go back to my chemistry text book. Two minutes later my text dings. Of course my ex-boyfriend will not leave me alone. Ugh. Come on, universe, can’t you make him go away?

  jazz, i need to talk to u. IMPORTANT.

  I frown at the screen. Sebastian is many things—I stop my mind before it launches into a tirade of expletives—but he doesn’t often tend to be overdramatic. So now I wonder if something really is wrong. I mean, yeah, I know what he did to me is horrible, but even still, I should make sure everything’s okay.

  My insides clench as, despite my better judgment, I call him back.

  “Are you okay?” I ask as soon as he picks up.

  “Of course.” He has the audacity to sound smug which lights a fire inside me.

  “Jazz,” I recite from his text. “I need to talk to you. Important! Important? What the hell, Seb? What’s so important?”

  “I wanted to know if you had what you needed for our English presentation tomorrow.”

  I could punch something. Instead, I force a fake laugh. “That’s why you called me?”

  “What?” he huffs. “Just because you hate me is no reason for us to get a bad grade. You didn’t even bother to come to school on Friday, so I wasn’t sure if you were caught up.”

  “Didn’t bother? Screw you, Sebastian. Danny was in the hospital again. And anyway, Trina emailed me the part of the presentation I’m responsible for. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.”

  “Shit. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Is he okay?”

  “Like you care.” It’s a low blow, but I can’t help it. I want him completely out of my life.

  He sighs on the other end of the line. “Is this the way it’s going to be?”

  “Do you think you deserve anything less?”

  “Maybe not. But seriously, is he okay? You may not believe it, but I do still care about you. And your family.”

  “He’s fine.” I ignore the stirring in my stomach. Sebastian is most definitely not worth even a second of my time, or any of my emotions. I can’t let him weasel his way back in.

  “That’s good. So… what’s up with you? You seem so happy.”

  This again?

  Silence. As awkward as dead radio air.

  Sebastian clears his throat. “I have to ask. Did you meet someone?”

  “Did I meet someone? You are such a piece of work, Sebastian. And a piece of something else, too.”

  If internal organs could seethe, every single one of mine would be doing exactly that. I resent the hell out of Sebastian’s nerve, but there’s also a tiny part of me that wants to see him squirm.

  “So what if I did?” I say coolly. “Meet someone. What’s it to you?”

  More silence.

  Sweet, heavenly, in-your-face silence.

  Yes, I realize how awful, immature, and ridiculous this tactic makes me. No, at this moment, I don’t care.

  “I don’t get it,” he sputters. “We broke up, what, not even a month ago. How could you possibly meet someone already?”

  “So says he who met someone before said breakup?”

  He’s quiet and I imagine there is a good bit of seething happening on his end too. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.

  “Probably not a good idea if we talk,” I say. “No hard feelings or anything. I just don’t need the drama.”

  “You mean your new boyfriend doesn’t want you talking to me.”

  My fingers flex. Man, I’d love to slap him.

  “First of all, I don’t have a boyfriend. Second of all, no one tells me what to do or who to talk to. You of all people should know that, Seb. The only person who doesn’t want me talking to you, is me. So drop dead.”
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  I hit the end button with a flourish as if I’m banishing Seb to outer space for the rest of his days.

  Broadcast over.

  I flop down on my bed, massaging my temples and trying like anything to clear my mind and settle the storm inside me. Sebastian is so not worth this. I push aside my chem textbook and pull out Farah’s interview questions.

  So.

  Concentration.

  I work on my questions solemnly, trying to forget my conversation with Sebastian. Fine. I shouldn’t have let him believe I had a new guy already. But he shouldn’t have called me either. I’m moving on, and doing a damn good job of it, too, considering how bad he hurt me. Sure, I still miss him a lot of days, and yeah, I still ache with what was and could have been. But he doesn’t get the right to try to get to me and mess up my progress.

  At least an hour passes as I work quietly, fine tuning each question and making a list of possible answers to segue between topics. Reading over them again, I feel pretty confident about it all. When I’m done, I pull out my English book, along with the questions Trina sent me for our stupid presentation.

  I’m nearly done with my homework when my phone dings with a text. I cringe, hoping against all hope that it is not Sebastian. I’m in luck. It’s not. And even better, it’s Wes.

  Ready to practice your interview yet?

  Funny you should ask. I type. I just finished the questions.

  13

  I SLEEP LIKE a rock Sunday night, which is pretty shocking considering what an insane week this is going to be. When I wake up on Monday, I feel like a soldier prepared for battle. All my plans in place, I walk into school feeling more than confident. I practically float down the hallway. My radio show goes perfectly and I smile, knowing I have another good segment recorded for our NYC meeting next week. I hurry from the room to get to chemistry in time.

  When I see Sebastian standing at my locker, I turn and walk the other way. I’d rather carry all my heavy books to first period than have him try to ruin my perfect mood.