I Represent Sean Rosen (20 page)

Best,

Sean

I guess I could try singing with the band for one rehearsal. If I don't sound good, I'll quit. And if I'm not comfortable being in a band with Doug, I'll quit. It sounds like I'm probably going to quit, so what's the point?

Good. I'm glad I figured that out, so I can stop wasting time thinking about the band, and get back to my movie. I read the letter over again.

To: Stefanie V. President

From: Dan Welch Management

Dear Stefanie,

You're probably a mom by now, and first of all, I want to congratulate you. As a parent myself, I can tell you that you'll never forget these first days with Marisa. I bet she's adorable.

I know you've been busy, so I'm sure you haven't seen the Option Agreement that your business affairs department sent me for Sean Rosen the other day. I'll attach a copy.

You and I don't really know each other, but this agreement doesn't seem like something you would ever send. Sean and I both like you so much, and you've certainly treated us well so far. Sean said you offered him water at your Skype meeting. Funny.

Sean thought you were seriously interested in
A Week with Your Grandparents,
and when I received your e-mail after the meeting, I thought so, too. For some reason, your business affairs department doesn't seem to think so.

As you know,
A Week with Your Grandparents
is a very good movie idea. Sean told me you asked him not to talk about it with anyone else. He hasn't, so far. But like most thirteen-year-olds, Sean can be a bit impatient.

I know this is the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, and if you can't help us with this, please let me know.

Best,

Sean

It sounds good, so I hit SEND. While the e-mail program was sending it, I could still see the bottom of the e-mail. OH NO!!! I signed it, “Best,
Sean
.” It's from Dan.

I looked all over the screen for the cancel button. There
is
no cancel button.

Your message has been sent.

I
am such an idiot. “Best, Sean.” That's it. It's over. Why did Buzz have to text me?

It's not Buzz's fault. It's my fault. I was doing something really important and I stopped paying attention. I am such an idiot. I just threw away my whole career because I was busy imagining myself singing at the Grammys. I am such an idiot.

Stefanie is buying a big ad in
The Hollywood Reporter
right now.

T
HERE
IS
NO
D
AN
W
ELCH
.

D
AN
W
ELCH IS
S
EAN
R
OSEN
.

A
VOID THEM BOTH
.

Why didn't I read it again before I sent it? I
did
read it again, but I was still thinking about the band. I used to read every word of Dan's e-mails over and over and over before sending them. We got too confident. No.
I
got too confident. There
is
no Dan Welch.

I wanted to blame the computer, I wanted to blame my phone, I wanted to blame Stefanie, but there's no one to blame except me. I got through dinner with my dad. I told him I wanted to watch the commercials so he wouldn't mute them. I didn't feel like talking. I didn't have any ice cream. I don't deserve ice cream.

I laid in bed for a long time, saying, “You are an idiot.” At some point I fell asleep.

I woke up in the morning, and for about twenty seconds I forgot. I started to go to my computer to check Dan Welch's e-mail, but then I remembered “Best, Sean.” I didn't even bother. Stefanie isn't going to write back to him now that she knows he doesn't exist. And I'm not in the mood for Collectibles Dan Welch.

I was in the kitchen eating cereal when my mom hurried in dressed in her uniform. She grabbed her lunch from the fridge, looked at me, and said, “What's wrong?” She always knows.

“Nothing.”

“I don't believe you.” Fortunately she had to leave for work so she didn't have time to do a complete investigation.

School was awful. Thanks to my stupid mistake, I'll have to keep going. I had it all planned out. When we started shooting
A Week with Your Grandparents
, a tutor would come to my dressing room at the studio. I don't know why I thought writers get dressing rooms.

Or else I would share a tutor with the actors playing Chris and Chloe. We wouldn't be the same age, but the tutor would teach us all at the same time. It would be fun.

Or if I was too busy on the set every day, I would go to high school online. I've heard of some kids in show business who do that. That might be even better because you work at your own speed. Maybe I'd be able to do all four years of high school in four days. No. Four weeks. No. Four months. I don't know. It doesn't matter because my career is over, and I'm stuck going to school right here.

Realizing that was bad enough, but then at the end of the day we got our report cards. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I got a C in French. That has to be a mistake.

I went to see Mademoiselle Fou. She was sitting on her desk texting. She didn't look up, even though I'm sure she heard me come in. She probably saw me too, but she acted like she didn't. Finally I said, “Excuse me . . .”

“En français, s'il te plaît.”
(“In French, please.”)

I pointed to the C on my report card and said,
“Pourquoi?”
(“Why?”) She looked at me for a second.

“Pourquoi pas?”
(“Why not?”)

I got mad. I switched back to English. “Come on. I got an A on every single test.”

“Your grade is based both on tests and on class participation.”

“What are you talking about? You never call on me!!!”

“That's not true, Gaston. I called on you and you couldn't perform the reading exercise.”

“Marcel Proust?!! That's crazy!
You
couldn't have read it either.” I was about to say something else. Something worse. But instead I turned around and walked out of the classroom. She didn't come after me. She didn't have to. She won.

I was so mad I almost knocked over Matty, the custodian. I told him I was sorry and I just leaned against the wall for a minute to think.

Should I go back in there and tell her I'll do
Le Bistro
again? She would probably change my grade. Brianna would be happy.

No. I can't. I'll take the C.

Leaving school, I was in a daze. I've never actually gotten beaten up (thank goodness), but this is probably what it feels like.

French is bad, but the worst is wrecking my own career. I've been working so hard, and things actually seemed to be going pretty well.

It's true that nothing is happening yet with my big idea. But that was
my
decision. I never expected to start my career with a movie, but I actually loved working on it.

None of that matters now. My movie will never get made, and I'll never get to try out my big idea. All because I wasn't paying attention. Because I was doing two things at once. Because one of the two things was way less important than the other, but I didn't act like it was.

When you get a text, you hear that sound, and you just drop whatever you're doing. Even if it's writing a letter to the Vice President of Production of a huge Hollywood studio asking her for more money for your movie. Maybe the “bannd” could have waited until Dan Welch finished what he was doing.

There were a lot of kids walking by, but I was just standing there. I couldn't stop saying mean things to myself. Then I heard someone say, “Hey, Sean.”

I turned around. It was Ethan. I never heard him start a conversation before, but he picked a very good time. I thought about telling him what happened, since Ethan was almost Dan Welch and he's the only person not in Hollywood who knows about
A Week with Your Grandparents.
I couldn't. But I asked him if he wanted to go for a bike ride. We decided to meet back at school and we both went home to get our bikes.

M
y last bike got stolen. It was awful. You ride somewhere, you lock it up, then you come out and you go to where you left it, and it isn't there. Then you start wondering if you forgot where you left it. You know you didn't, but you start looking everywhere anyway. Then you finally face the fact. Someone stole it.

I loved that bike. It was a birthday present from my parents. I think it was really expensive. I need a bike because I ride all the time. My dad wanted to buy me the same bike again, but I wouldn't let him. I would always be afraid it would get stolen. So we went to the police bike auction.

I was sort of hoping they'd have my stolen bike, but of course they didn't. The only bike that was the right size for me was a girl's bike. It wasn't pink or anything. It just didn't have that bar that goes between the seat and the handlebars.

I actually never rode a girl's bike before, so I tried it. It's a good bike. Not super nice, like my old bike, but I like the way it rides. And I found out it's actually easier getting on and off a girl's bike.

My dad said he could buy me a new bike, but I told him I liked this one. We got it for $23. Besides saving money, this bike has built-in robbery insurance. I don't know for sure, but I bet most bikes are stolen by boys, and the kind of boy who would steal a bike is the kind of boy who would never, ever ride a girl's bike. I don't have to worry about this bike.

Ethan was already at school when I got there. I was waiting to see if he was going to say something about me having a girl's bike. He didn't. We took a long ride around our town. Even though we didn't talk very much, it took my mind off everything bad that happened.

I had to pee, and we were pretty far away from my house. “Hey, Ethan . . . where do you live?” He told me the name of the street. It wasn't far. I asked if I could use his bathroom. We were near an alley between some buildings, and Ethan pointed and said, “You could just go over there.”

I said, “Actually . . . I don't like doing things like that.” He looked at me for a second. Ethan and I don't know each other very well, but I guess he figured out that he wasn't going to talk me into it, so he turned his bike around and said, “Follow me.”

His house looks pretty much like mine, just a normal, not very big house. There was a car in the driveway. We went inside. It was kind of dark. I saw someone hurry out of the living room into the kitchen. I think it must have been his mom, but I couldn't really see her.

Ethan pointed me to the bathroom. I don't like to be nosy, but . . . Okay, I
do
sort of like to be nosy, but I try not to be too obvious about it. Looking around the house, and around the bathroom when the door was shut, I got kind of a weird feeling. I know Ethan's family moved to our town just a little while ago, but it looks like they never really moved in.

There aren't a lot of boxes around, but this house just doesn't look like a place where a family lives. They have chairs and tables and other furniture that families have, but nothing on the walls.

After I was done in the bathroom I saw a picture. It was a kid holding a trophy. I said to Ethan, “Is that you?” He said no, and he kind of hurried me out of the house. I never saw his mom or whoever ran out of the living room. Ethan got back on his bike, and I had to pedal fast to catch up to him.

We rode for a little while, then we stopped near that waterfall that isn't actually a waterfall. It was quiet for a while, just the sound of the water. I wanted to ask Ethan about his family, but I didn't know what question to ask.

I was still thinking about it when Ethan stood up. He got on his bike, said, “See you in school,” then he rode off. I sat there for a few more minutes.

I was glad that neither of my parents was home. My mom would have continued the questioning from this morning, and even my dad would have known I wasn't feeling very good. I'm not saying that my dad doesn't usually care how I feel. He does. But he never tries to talk me out of feeling bad. He knows people feel bad sometimes.

I grabbed a cookie and some pretzels and some lemonade and I went to my room. I tried to look at Facebook and I couldn't. I tried playing Ricochet Roulette and I couldn't. I don't know why, but I went back to my computer and looked at Dan Welch's e-mail account. He had a new e-mail.

To: Dan Welch Management

From: Stefanie V. President

OMG!!! Dan, I am so, so sorry. Thank you for contacting me. I swear to you on my infant daughter's extremely soft head, I did not see that contract. Please apologize to Sean. Ask him to pretend it didn't happen. Give me a couple of days, and business affairs will get back to you with something I'm sure you and Sean will be happy with. We don't want to lose him.

Gotta go. Marisa's hungry. Again. I can't even tell you.

By the way, it's hilarious that you signed your e-mail “Sean.” I've been doing that a lot lately, too. I sign things with my husband's name, my mother's name, and just yesterday, “Esmeralda.” She's the baby nurse.