Free This Ordinary Life by Jennifer Walkup Page B

at bookstores. Books. I get there earlier than Wes, so I stroll around looking at all the new releases. I thumb through a few that look decent and commit them to memory for my next library trip.
    On my way to the magazines, I look outside. I wonder what kind of car he drives. Or if he drives. Lots of epilepsy patients can’t drive, depending on how well their seizures are controlledwith medication. I have spent three years worrying about the same thing for Danny when he grows up. But I don’t know much about Wes’s situation.
    I think about the way he casually threw out his diagnosis with me at Dr. Bee’s office yesterday. He’s an open book, no freaking pun intended as I stand amongst thousands of them. I like that about him.
    I squat down in the magazine aisle, flipping idly through
Teen Queen
magazine. I’m deep in a quiz about what my future job should be, trying to add up the score to each question while making sure not to wrinkle the pages. These stupid quizzes suck me in every time. I add the numbers in my head, falling squarely in the “creative job” category. I can live with that.
    â€œSunny!”
    Wes’s voice is way closer than I expect. With my balance being pretty crappy as it is, and squatting down the way I am, I have to grab the edge of the magazine rack to keep from falling.
    â€œHey.” I pull myself up, trying to pretend like I wasn’t about to fall over.
    Wes pushes his hair back and gives me one of his side smiles. He’s wearing a plain black tee shirt that’s fitted enough to show off his physique. He’s not really muscular, but he’s got a good build. And the black looks really good with his coloring, making his natural blond highlights stand out.
    â€œYou look nice,” he says, scratching the back of his head. He nods to my dress. “Sunny again.”
    I look down at myself and laugh. Yellow again. “So it is. And thanks.”
You look nice too,
I’m tempted to add.
    â€œSorry I’m late,” he says. “My friend was over and I couldn’t get rid of him. I finally left him there, playing video games alone in my house.”
    â€œAlone in your house?”
    â€œSort of. My parents are home. Mom’ll cook him dinner and let him hang out.”
    I laugh. “That’s kind of odd.”
    â€œYeah. Jacob is really a weirdo. He’s like the quintessential frat boy, even though he’s only in high school. His parents are pushing him for college and all that, but all he does is play video games. I don’t think he’s destined for more than beer pong champion.”
    â€œOuch. Hope you don’t talk about all your friends that way.”
    â€œWhat can I say, I’m honest. And don’t worry, he says it about himself. Laziest guy around. Come on.” He nods toward the café.
    We wait in line behind a mother with four very noisy kids. One of them turns around and sticks his tongue out at us, more than once. I barely stifle my laugh. Beside me, Wes makes a funny face back at the kid, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes.
    â€œOh my God, Wes,” I whisper, snorting a laugh.
    I trace the edge of the dessert case while the line edges up toward the counter. We peer into the window like kids in a candy shop. “Everything looks so good,” I say. “I’m definitely going for the double chocolate brownie.”
    When it’s our turn he motions for me to order first. “Order it to go,” he says. “We’ll sit outside. If a famous radio DJ doesn’t mind being seen with a lowly guy like me…”
    I raise an eyebrow. “Hardly famous.” I laugh as I pull out my wallet when the barista returns with my brownie and coffee. Wes nods to the register.
    â€œCome on,” he says. “I got this.”
    I hand the barista a five dollar bill. “I can pay for myself,” I tell Wes.
    â€œI don’t see why you have