This Ordinary Life (4 page)

“We have a set at home. We'll play tonight, okay? We'll practice some more.”

This seems to satisfy him enough to go back to his coloring, and I look up at the clock. School is probably out for me today, but I'd like to at least try to call Ms. Hudson to see if I can salvage any hope for the Get Up and Go internship.

Fat chance.

At least I get another day without seeing Sebastian. Him and whoever that girl was. Who knows how far the gossip has spread. Another day out of school and maybe it'll be old news by the time I get back.

I bend to touch my toes, trying to stretch out the ache of sleeping in the hospital recliner-bed thing. It's cracked leather and stiff, even if it does open pretty far and they do provide sheets and pillows. And anyway, it was only one night this time.

Mom got called into work last night. She works as a bartender, not coincidentally, I'm sure, and works tons of late nights, as well as some afternoons. On one hand, I know it seems way messed up of her to leave the hospital when Danny was doing an overnight, but on the other, even I have to admit, we need the money and she does make decent cash in tips. And Danny was stable, not a single seizure after that one at home. Plus, I'm here for him.

“I'm gonna go get a drink, Danny. Be right back?”

My brother smiles widely at me and nods. My stomach squeezes on itself. He's such a sweet kid. What did he ever do to deserve this? To get stuck with a crappy mom, a dad who left when he was only a baby, and seizures on top of it? Poor kid. I pull open the curtain separating the beds. Looks like comic book boy is still sleeping, so I move quietly through his side of the room and into the hallway. I decide to forego the crappy coffee and grab a soda from the family fridge instead. Caffeine is caffeine, right?

I stand in the hallway, drinking my soda and watching the banks of elevators. Thanks to my early birthday, a few more months and I'll be eighteen. Then I'll be able to sign Danny in and out as needed. Waiting for Mom is always ridiculously long. She is the Queen of oversleeping and running late.

Whatever. I better get back. I slip quietly into our room.

“Hey Sunny.”

My head whips to comic boy, sitting up in bed with a (I have to admit, though it pains me all the way down to my glittery painted toenails) cute smirk on his face. A handful of freckles dust his cheeks, which lift as his smile widens. His front tooth is the slightest bit crooked, I notice, but it gives his smile character. He's definitely cute.

“Excuse me?” I cross my arms, careful not to spill yet another drink and embarrass myself again.

He casually tosses a paper airplane up in the air and catches it again. “That shirt,” he says. “I noticed it yesterday. Sunshine. Sunny. Cheerful. In a place like this, it's kind of nice.” He winces when he says the words and I soften, hoping he's not in some kind of pain.

“Um,” I say. “Are you okay? I mean, God, that was rude. I'm not, like, asking why you're here or whatever. I just noticed you made a face so I thought maybe you were hurting or something. Forget I asked. Sorry.”

Oh my God Jasmine, can you stop talking now?

But comic book boy laughs. “No, nothing hurts. I'm good. Was just wincing at my sort of awful line there about your yellow shirt being nice. I mean, what self-respecting guy says that? And I can't even blame it on good drugs, because they didn't give me any this time.”

This time.
He must be a frequent flyer too.

“Anyway,” he says. “If you can forgive my complete lack of coolness in conversation starters, I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday when you slammed the curtain on me.” He shakes his head, mock serious. “I'm not always great with girls but I don't usually get that kind of treatment when I'm in a hospital bed.”

My ears burn. “Sorry,” I say. “Bad day.”

The sarcastic look leaves him as his eyes slide to Danny's side of the room, where my brother still colors, deep in concentration.
“Yeah, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive. Once again, my jokes fall on the dumb side instead of funny.”

“It's fine,” I say, noticing how the blue of his eyes is almost precisely the color of the absolute best summer beach sky.

“Anyway, I'm Wes.” He holds out a hand for me to shake and I walk to the side of his bed.

“Jasmine.”

“Well Jasmine, it's nice to meet you. Though if it's okay, I prefer to call you Sunny.”

O-kay. Considering I'll talk to him for all of a few more minutes, he can call me whatever.

His skin is really warm and dry and his fingers grip mine a second longer than they need to.

“Also, good to see you're sticking with cold, non-burning drinks today.” His eyes dance with mischief.

I roll mine and finally pull my hand away. He looks healthy enough and there is no sign around here of what's going on. I'm actually considering how to ask when he opens his mouth.

“I know what you're thinking. Why is this perfect specimen of a guy holed up here at St. Bonaventure Pediatric ward?”

“No, I wasn't. I was just going to say—”

But of course my mother chooses that moment to rush in.

“Jasmine!” she practically yells, all out of breath. “I'm double parked! Is Danny signed out?”

I turn where I am, still next to Wes's bed. “Um, no. He needs a parent or guardian to sign him out. Hang on. I'll go tell the nurse.” I slip from beside Wes's bed, turning back to give him another small wave as I make my way from the room. He winks at me, but it's not as cheesy as you'd expect a wink to be. It's conspiratorial. Like we're sharing a secret or something. Which makes no sense, I know.

I really need to get some more sleep. My brain is playing tricks on me.

I'
M UP FOR
school the next day with plenty of time to spare. I'm obviously not getting a ride from Sebastian anymore, so I'll be walking most days. On the days Frankie has a car, I'll have a ride, but otherwise, I'll be getting my daily exercise bright and early. I text her to see if she's driving today.

I apply my eyeliner slowly, thinking about how much time I wasted on him. I'm not going to lie, it hurts like hell. He's not only a liar and a cheater but he was in such a rush to tell the world how free and available he is the second we broke up. But whatever, there is no way I'm disrespecting myself enough to chase after him, or even think about taking him back. It's over. My stomach clenches on itself like I'm in the middle of one of those show-up-to-school-naked dreams, but I let out a breath and smooth my eyebrows with my eyebrow brush. I may be shattered inside, but Sebastian will never know.

Besides, Danny is out of the hospital and he seemed perfectly healthy for the rest of the day yesterday, and today I will talk to Ms. Hudson about somehow, some way, getting over to the Get Up and Go show, even though I missed the trip. I need that internship. There is no way I'm getting anywhere near affording college if I don't have some better communications and radio experience to my name. I need that job.

After giving Danny his medicine and setting out his breakfast, I pour a bowl of cereal for myself. I eat it at the counter, scrolling through my phone and hoping Frankie texts me back.

“Jasmine? Why are you up?” Mom asks from behind me. I didn't even hear her come in.

“Uh, school?”

She blinks rapidly and pulls her hair into a messy knot on the top of her head. Her eyes skate to the calendar on the wall, which is two months behind. She turns her red-rimmed eyes back to me. “School?”

“Yeah, the place we go five days a week?”

“I think I need coffee,” she says. She shuffles across the kitchen in her too-big sweatpants. “That whole hospital stay really threw me off this week. I swore today was Saturday.”

I snort. “I wish. It's Wednesday, Mom.”

She chugs half a cup of black coffee. How she doesn't burn her throat, I don't know.

I rinse my bowl in the sink. “Danny had his meds. His bagel is on the table.”

Mom steps closer and puts a clammy hand on my face. She smells like sweat and vodka. “Thanks, sweetie. I appreciate your help. Things will get easier for us around here. Thanks for pitching in so much.”

“No problem,” I grumble, reaching down to pick up my bag. “You working tonight?”

“It's Wednesday? Yes. I'm working the late shift. That okay for you to be here for Danny?”

“Yeah, of course. Is there any food?”

“There's leftovers,” she says, sipping her coffee. “And tonight is Amir's night in the kitchen. That means I'll bring lots of stuff home.”

My stomach rumbles. The bar where Mom works has a pretty good kitchen. When Amir, her favorite chef, is cooking, he always makes us extra. It'll keep us well fed for a few days, at least.

“Nice,” I answer. “Hopefully it's prime rib sandwich night.”

“Not asparagus night?” She jokes.

“God no!” I grimace and Mom laughs at the depth of my hatred for the vegetable.

“Anyway, I gotta run.” I hike my backpack up on my back.

“Have a good day,” Mom answers while she fills her coffee mug again.

S
INCE
F
RANKIE NEVER
answered my text, I start walking. With all my thoughts spiraling in every direction, the walk to school goes faster than I remember it used to. I'm only a few blocks away, walking in the shade of the huge and gorgeous elms on Park Street, when Frankie's green Jetta pulls up next to me, windows down.

“So sorry! I was running late and didn't get your text!” She yells across the passenger seat, looking at me over the dark sunglasses she's let slip down her nose.

“No worries,” I say as I pull the door open. I plop into my seat and turn to my best friend, anxiety coiling through me. “Tell me everything. Are the rumors as bad as I think they are?”

Frankie slams the car into drive and speeds away from the curb, her dark, perfectly straightened hair blowing toward her open sunroof. “Who cares about that crap? I already told you Sebastian is playing the victim.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, but I want details. I need to know exactly what I'm getting myself into.”

Frankie huffs and makes a right turn instead of the left that takes us to school.

“Uh, Frankie?”

“Coffee first,” she says, pursing her bubblegum pink lips. “Always, coffee first.”

I stare at her, waiting for her to start talking, but she looks straight ahead, her eye on the prize. Frankie is nothing if not serious
about coffee. I lean forward and turn on her radio, flipping it to AM.

“Who's broadcasting this morning?” she says, eying the digital numbers that flash across the screen.

“Probably Romeo or Justine.” I shrug. I'm one of the only serious radio students at Easton this year, and even though there are a few others who host the morning and afternoon radio shows, most of them are into the production side of things. Or signed up just to look good on college applications. “Who cares. I'm more interested in what Big Dee is playing these days.”

Frankie turns to me, eyebrows raised. She smacks my hand away and turns the radio off. “Are you crazy? Are you not tortured enough this morning?”

“Fine. But there's nothing wrong with seeing what the competition is up to.” I sit back against the seat and look out the window. And it's true. Chester High, only a few towns over, is the only nearby school with a decent radio station. And DJ Big Dee, as she goes by, though she's nothing more than a tiny little thing, is pretty much the only other decent high school DJ around. Last year they had a local spin-off contest for high school DJs at the Bentley County holiday bazaar, and she and I were the two finalists. Even after three additional sets each, it was declared a tie. I don't listen to her show often, but I'm not stupid. I'm sure she's applying for the WYN60 internship too. I'm also not stupid enough that I think she's my only competition. I'm sure DJs from all over are applying for the high school internship spot. I may need it more than them, but if I have to lose, it better not be to her. Of course that's
if
I even have a chance of going for it at this point.

Anyway. First things first.

“Come on,” I say. “Give me the details on the Sebastian situation. It's like, your top duty as my best friend.”

“Shhh.” She pulls into a parking spot and nods to the coffee shop. “Coffee first.”

Once we have our iced coffees she turns to me in the parking lot. “It's messy,” she says. “But overall you don't have to worry, I think, because people probably like you more than they like him.”

“Like
me more? Debatable. I barely talk to anyone besides you. And anyway, this isn't a popularity contest.”

Frankie starts driving again. “Sebastian's a cocky ass and you're one of the school DJs. You do the math.”

I sigh.

“So whatever. He's playing the victim. You guys have been together for like two million years.”

“Eleven months.”

“Same thing. You seemed perfect and now you're broken up. So he's all
Jasmine dumped me my heart is broken blah blah blah.
Girls were flocked around him at lunch, concerned faces all sad while they listened to him.”

“Great. So I'm the bad guy.”

“Hardly. I bet everyone can see through his crap.”

“Well those girls couldn't.”

“Let him be their problem, then.”

“True.” I drop my head back against the seat. “I don't suppose he told anyone of his extracurricular activities involving girls on the side, did he?”

Frankie snorts. “Of course not. He's nothing but a knight in shining armor, you know. But the rumors of him cheating on you are already running rampant.”

I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse.

It's still early enough that the lot isn't full yet, though my eyes scan for Sebastian's Range Rover. Crap. There it is.