This Ordinary Life (13 page)

Trina reads nervously through her part, but she smiles a lot and makes eye contact and her information is all correct.

When it's my turn, I take a step forward and deliver my planned presentation flawlessly. I let my eyes roam across the room to each person, stopping at Mr. James as I deliver most of the speech. I'm not in love with public speaking, but I pretend I'm on the air instead of in front of a room full of people. Plus, having Sebastian in my group is added motivation. I want him to see how good I'm doing. How in control I am. See who doesn't need you, sucker?

When the final bell rings I shoot from the room, with no chance whatsoever of having to interact with my ex-boyfriend.

how did it go?
Wes's text comes almost the second the final bell of the day buzzes. The faintest flutters rise in my chest.

awesome. not that I was worried.

ur confidence is adorable. I could just kiss you….. so you know.

ha! there will be none of that. not if you were the last living guy on earth.:)

we'll see. u may be surprised at how awful of a time i'll give you. you'll fall madly in love with me… i can see it now….

I roll my eyes and drop my phone into my purse, my lips tugging up into what I'm sure must be a very broad smile.

T
HE
E
NGLISH PRESENTATION
may not have had me nervous, but the SGA interview has me more than a little rattled. I head to school Wednesday morning with a tornado twisty feeling in the pit of my stomach. This interview is really important, obviously. I mean, most of Easton will probably be listening to see where things stand. But, it's also going to be the only interview in my submission package for the WYN60 internship. So it needs to be solid. I practice my questions in my mind on the entire walk to school, using my internal radio voice the whole way.

Good morning Easton High! Today we're here with Farrah Wiggins, student government president and Board of Ed liaison. Farrah, thank you so much for talking with us today on this very important topic that affects almost all students at Easton in one way or another.

I practice this opening relentlessly on my way to school and by the time I get into the parking lot, a good half an hour before my show even starts, I'm feeling pretty confident. I walk through the quiet halls as if they exist just for me.

“Hi, Mr. Tony.” I wave to the janitor.

He gives me a small smile and nods toward the radio station around the corner. “Good luck today, miss.”

Even Mr. Tony knows about the radio show and interview? Wow.

Turning the corner and squinting down the hall, I try to figure out what's in front of the station door. As I get closer, the bright blobs start to take shape.

Flowers? Bright Gerbera daisies, in every color? They're absolutely gorgeous.

I approach them carefully, as if they may be explosive, bending to get the card, hoping they are from anyone but Sebastian. I don't think it would be like him to try and rattle me before my big interview, but I'm positive he wouldn't send me flowers for any authentic reason, either. But who else would?

When I open the card, my eyes scan quickly, and I laugh really loud, right there in the middle of the empty hallway. Then, like some silly girl in a movie or a book, I press the card to my chest and laugh some more.

I hope you like flowers. I called every florist looking for dead ones, because I don't want to give you the wrong idea. But, turns out there is not a big market for dead flowers and they were all out. The nerve! I was short on time or dumpster diving would have been my next course of action. So, hope these will do. Good luck today. Break a leg. Does break a leg apply to radio? Well, break whatever you're supposed to on the radio. You'll do great. I'll be listening. Wes

Wes. I smile and drop my bag, rushing back down the hall to find Mr. Tony. Now I know what that look was about when I passed him. Did Wes have these delivered?

“Mr. Tony!” I call when I see him down the hall. “Did you see who left the flowers?”

He nods as he methodically pushes and pulls his mop back and forth across the floor. “Was a young man,” he says. “Asked right where the radio station was that had the best high school DJ in New Jersey.”

“Thanks!” I turn and rush back toward the station, shaking my head. I can't believe Wes actually came here himself this early in the morning.

ur the best. I text him. thank you.

Wes doesn't respond and I can only imagine my compliment has stunned him into a very unusual silence.

I flip on the lights and start to get everything set up for my interview with Farrah Wiggins. The flowers sit between my computer and microphone, making the small room an even brighter spot in my morning. They're only flowers, but my eyes flit to them as I set up my computer and sound check the microphones, when I open my document of questions and test the sound board. They're like an omen or something, a guarantee that the morning will go well.

Farrah arrives about ten minutes before the interview is set to start. Farrah is a senior, but she seems much older. She's poised and incredibly smart, not to mention really nice, too. She glides into the room, her long braids and the beads on the end of them swishing and clicking together.

“Hey!” Farrah slides into the seat across the radio desk with a big smile on her face. Even her overbite doesn't detract from her openly friendly and pretty face. She has two Dunkin' Donuts coffees and bottles of water in a holder and she offers me one of each.

“Awesome, thanks. I'm running on pure adrenalin this morning, so this is amazing.” I mix in a few packets of sugar and take a big gulp.

“No problem,” Farrah says. “So, I'm kind of a little nervous about this.”

“It's nothing, you'll do great. Just imagine when you have the SGA meetings and all those people are watching. It's like that, but easier, because the people aren't even in the room.”

She nods.

“So, we'll talk about stuff the SGA is up to. Wrap up of what you guys did this year, upcoming stuff for next. But mostly, we'll focus on the recent meetings with the Board of Ed and any hints or ideas on programs that may not be around next year.”

“Alright. Sounds good. There's nothing set in stone yet, so I'm a bit ambivalent about stirring up controversy by mentioning things that may be on the chopping block, but I have no problem discussing the things that have definitely been approved to stay.”

“Perfect. Taking a positive look sounds like a good idea. No reason to get people upset for no reason. Just know they will ask or infer after hearing what
is
staying, but we'll field those questions appropriately. Sound good?”

She gulps down her coffee with a smile. “Ready when you are.”

I've been on the radio show countless times over the last few years, but whenever I have an interview guest, I get a little shaky, and the fact that this one is going in my internship submission packet makes it even more nerve wracking.

Deep breath. Let's do this.

“Good morning Easton High! Today I have Farrah Wiggins with me here talking about all the completely awesome things the Student Government Association has been doing for our school. Farrah is the Student Government Association president as well as the Board of Ed liaison. Hello Farrah and thanks for coming to talk to us today on these very important topics that affect so many students at Easton.”

“Happy to be here,” she says with a genuine smile.

We launch into small talk first. Farrah fills everyone in on the upcoming end of year carnival. I smile, thinking of Trina in English and how excited she is about the carnival. I let Farrah go on for a while, thinking all the Trina-type listeners will be squealing with excitement while listening.

“It's going to be the best carnival, yet,” Farrah says. “We have a ton of parent volunteers and donations this year. As you know, our budgets have been drastically cut so we were sure the carnival wouldn't happen. But local business donations have almost completely funded the event. There will be food and games stands available for a nominal fee to the patrons, but the Ferris wheel will be free to riders all afternoon thanks to the folks at E&M Hardware, who sponsored the ride. We have even booked some entertainment thanks to local business donations. A local folk band will be performing for most of the afternoon. One of our parents even works over at Anderson's airfield and we're in the process of arranging a possible short airshow, which will be completely donated time by the pilots and airfield staff.”

“Very, very cool,” I say. “I, for one, cannot wait for the carnival.”

Okay, so radio personalities embellish and lie sometimes. All in the name of doing the job.

“Me too,” Farah says. But I read her lips instead of hearing her voice in my headphones.

Crap.

I check the wires quickly and see everything's plugged in.

“Thanks so much for sharing that information with us,” I say into the mic. But once again, I hear nothing in my headphones. Crap. I'm not sure we're broadcasting.

Farrah's eyes are wide and dart between me and the mic, her mouth drawn in a panicked grimace. I smile to try to calm her, but my palms are slick. I wipe them on my capris as I turn to my
monitor. Click, scroll and I get a short playlist going. Music streams through the speakers.

Momentary reprieve, not optimal, but better than dead air.

“Is everything okay?” Farrah's voice pitches with worry as I drop to the floor to fumble with the wires.

“Just a small technical glitch.” In actuality, I have no idea what the hell is wrong. I wish Ms. Hudson was here. What if I can't get us back online? What if my interview is totally ruined. What if…

Aha! A wire near the back of the wall isn't plugged in all the way. No, crap, the outlet itself is loose. I push the plug in tighter just as the next song starts. Sweat drips down the back of my neck as I slide out from under the table and into my seat. I slide my headphones on and test the mic.

Nothing. Shit shit shit.

I press my foot against the plugs.

“Shit,” I mutter against the mic. This time, the glorious sound of my voice fills my headphones. I give Farrah a thumbs up as I keep my foot positioned on the plug.

Get it together Jasmine. You're a pro, act like it.

Holy sweaty DJ. And my mouth feels like I've swallowed a bag of dust. But my song is ending and here we go!

“Hello Easton High! Hope you enjoyed that brief interlude of the top 40 while Farrah and I got ready for your calls. Let's hear a little more about what Student Government has been working on this year and then we'll take your questions.”

Farrah licks her lips and leans into the microphone on her side of the table. With a nervous smile, she launches into all the things SGA has accomplished during this school year, mainly fundraising efforts, social committees and events and community service projects. Her passion for the subject helps her nerves fall away and when I notice she's smiling more and licking her
lips less, I decide it's time to change course. And, thank God, the microphone is working fine so far.

“So,” I say. “You know the questions the students are really after. Tell us about the budget next year. I'm sure it's not finalized, but can you give us some hints?”

“I'm so happy you asked that! You're right, so much of it isn't finalized yet. And, don't forget, I'm not privy to everything that goes on in those Board of Ed decisions.”

“Of course, we realize that. But, come on, give us something. What do we have to worry about getting cut next year?”

Farrah takes a sip of her water. The question has thrown her off. “I'll tell you the things I know have approval, so far, but there really is so much more on the table for them to discuss.”

“I hope our little radio station is safe?” I joke, trying to steer her back to a comfortable mood.

Farrah offers a big grin. “Gosh, I sure hope so too! You guys are my favorite way to start the day!”

“Thanks for that,” I say. “Now, back on track. What else can we be sure to see around here next year?”

“Like I said, I only know of a few thus far, but that's only because most meetings and decisions will be made over the summer. I do know football, basketball, and baseball will be around next year, as well as art, jazz band and theater.”

She spins it in a way that makes it sound like the things not mentioned haven't been discussed yet, but I know grumblings about certain programs have been rumored to be cut. Like golf, lacrosse, marching band and debate team, to name a few. I don't dig deeper, because for all I know these things, and others, do still have a chance to be approved. Like she said, no reason to start any rumors or mass hysteria.

“Let's take a call, shall we?”

“Sure!” Farrah's voice is cheerful but her face is drawn with worry.

The first caller asks questions mostly about the carnival, which Farrah answers cheerfully. Every time we talk into the mic, I cringe, hoping it doesn't go out again. I keep my foot poised on the plug.

“Okay,” I say in my smoothest on-air voice. “Let's take another call.”

“Sounds great,” Farrah answers.

“Good morning, you're live with Jasmine Torres and Farrah Wiggins,” I answer.

“Hey there,” a male voice says. “I have a question for Farrah.”

“Go right ahead,” I say. “You're live.”

“Do you really think it's fair that something like debate could be cancelled and yet we have some stupid carnival? It's amazing what you people do. Like, only the stuff the popular kids like gets to stay?”

Farrah's eyes go deer in headlights wide as she licks her lips.

“Back up just a bit,” I start. “Remember, Farrah didn't say anything about any programs being cut. She only mentioned the ones she's sure have already been approved. I'm sure she's hoping, as we all are, that the debate team will be around next year. Right Farrah?”