I Represent Sean Rosen (22 page)

My mom never fights with anyone, but sometimes my dad tries to stop a fight, and then he's in the fight. People don't hit each other (except once), but it's still a fight. Everyone who fought says they're sorry by the end of the weekend, and on the way home my mom says, “Just be glad it wasn't Christmas.”

W
hile we were away, Dan Welch got a Revised Option Agreement from business affairs. They didn't apologize for the first one they sent. They didn't say anything about what Martin Manager called “the outrageous conditions and miniscule payments” they offered me the last time. They just sent another document. This one is
fifty
pages.

I tried to figure out what's different. At first it looked like they only changed some of the numbers, but then I saw what they added. It's big. Now if the studio makes
A Week with Your Grandparents
, I get some of the net profits.

I'm so excited. Stefanie must have really yelled at them. I'm actually a part of it now. If the studio makes money, I make money. It's only 1 percent of the net profits, but 1 percent of a million dollars is 10,000 dollars. 1 percent of 100 million dollars is a million dollars. And 1 percent of a billion dollars is 10 million dollars.

I know I'm probably not going to make 10 million dollars. First of all, my movie might not make a billion dollars (like
Shrek
or
Toy Story
or
Pirates of the Caribbean
). Second of all, they have to pay to make the movie and to advertise it. So even if it does make a billion dollars, that won't all be net profit. I don't actually know what net profit is. The ten extra pages of the Revised Option Agreement are the Net Profit Definition. I haven't even tried to read that part.

The other numbers are a lot better, too. Instead of paying me 500 dollars for the option, now they're going to pay me 10,000 dollars. And if they “purchase the property” they have to pay me 50,000 dollars (minus the 10,000 they already paid me). That's a whole lot more than 7,500 dollars. But I think the biggest thing is that I get a share of the profits.

What will I do with 10,000 dollars? There isn't anything I want to buy right now, but I do want to celebrate. I got on my bike and rode over to Baskin-Robbins and bought myself an ice cream cone. Jamoca Almond Fudge. Sometimes I get it when I'm happy about something and sometimes I get it when I'm sad about something. It always makes me feel good. I like buying it with my own money.

When I got home, that giant Revised Option Agreement was waiting for me. I'm not sure what to do. Should I just sign it? Should I try to read it and understand what it says? Should I hire a lawyer? Should I try to get an agent?

Dan Welch actually did a very good job for me, especially after Martin Manager told us we could get more than what they offered us at first. I wish I could send the Revised Option Agreement to Martin.

I read his last e-mail again. One part of it confuses me.

You'll be giving up your idea. They'll give it to a writer who will write the screenplay, and after that, they'll give it to another writer to rewrite the screenplay. Those writers will never speak to each other or to you.

I don't want to give up my idea. I don't want them to give it to a writer. I want
me
to be the writer. I
am
the writer.

Maybe Martin is wrong. I started reading the Revised Option Agreement to see if it says anything about using other writers.

I had to stop for dinner. The second I sat down, my mom said, “Okay, what is it?”

“What is what?”

“You look overwhelmed. Did the president ask you to fix the budget deficit?”

She's so good it's scary sometimes. I'm surprised she didn't invite Dan Welch to dinner.

“Mom . . . Don't you watch the news? I already fixed the budget deficit.”

She smiled like that was a little funny, then she kept looking at me like, “Okay. Don't tell me. But sooner or later I'm gonna find out.”

After dinner I went up to my room and got back to the Revised Option Agreement. Trying to understand all these words I never heard of, I got an idea for an invention. You know how on your computer you can translate something from French or Russian or Japanese into English in like two seconds?

My invention, or actually my idea for an invention, is something that can translate the way lawyers talk, like in my Option Agreement, into English. I don't see why that wouldn't work.

This idea isn't like my big entertainment idea, because I don't care if someone steals it. In fact, I hope you do. Forget stealing. I'm
giving
you this idea. You can have all the money from the Agreement Translator. Just invent it really soon and give me a free one.

I keep trying to read this thing, and I keep falling asleep. I got a text from Brianna.

I'm bored.
☺

I texted back.
I'm sleepy.

B: Thanks. Now I'm bored and sleepy.

S: Go to sleep.

B: No.

S: Go shopping.

B: I hate shopping online. It never fits. It never looks like the picture. You have to wait for it, then you have to send it back.

S: Now we're both bored.

B: You're the one who brought up shopping.

S: You're right as usual. Gotta go. C u tomorrow.

Brianna is one of the few people (other than me) who uses punctuation when they text.

I spent another half hour going through the Option Agreement. They're still going to own all rights to the plot, theme, title, characters, sequels, and everything else anyone will ever think of in perpetuity throughout the universe. But I don't see anything in here about who is actually going to write the movie.

I could spend my whole 10,000 dollars hiring Pastrami, Salami, Baloney & Hamm, but I don't want to. Dan Welch has to write to Stefanie again. I turned off my phone so I won't get any texts about bannds.

To: Stefanie V. President

From: Dan Welch Management

Hi Stefanie,

Thanks for the immediate action on Sean Rosen's Option Agreement. It's much better now. I like the way you work.

I've only taken a quick look, and sorry if I missed something obvious, but I don't see anything in here about Sean writing
A Week with Your Grandparents.

I assume you want him to write it, because I can't imagine anyone who could do a better job on this than Sean. He's been working on it since your meeting, and he's excited to tell you the new parts. I'm sure you'll like it.

Please ask your business affairs department to revise the Revised Option Agreement so it's clear that Sean will be writing the movie. If that's already in the agreement, please tell us where we can find it.

How's Marisa?

Best,

Dan

Before sending it, I checked about fifty times to make sure I signed it “Dan” and not “Sean.”

I
like letting Dan Welch handle the business stuff. I'm much better at the creative parts. I have my list of directors ready for Stefanie. I started a list of actors, too. The parents and the grandparents should be famous movie stars, but I think Chris and Chloe should be played by actors we don't know yet. You'll meet them for the first time in
A Week with Your Grandparents
. I'll be glad when the agreement is signed, so Stefanie and I can really get to work.

I got to school early today and went to the principal's office. Trish, his secretary, likes when I stop by. I came to see if I can switch from French to Spanish. They usually don't let people do that in the middle of a school year.

I decided not to talk about Mademoiselle Fou. I told Trish that I really love foreign languages (which I do), and I plan to travel a lot (which I do). I want to be able to talk more to Javier's family, and I want to be able to translate what I write into different languages (
Une Semaine avec Votre Grandsparents, Una Semana con Sus Abuelos
). About 400 million people in the world speak Spanish and only about 100 million people in the world speak French. Spanish would be four times more useful.

Trish thinks she'll be able to do it. That would be so great. I'm actually proud of myself for taking care of a big problem without dragging my parents in.

Then, unfortunately, I had to go to the bathroom. I don't know if you've ever been in a middle school boys' room. It's not somewhere you'd ever want to go unless you absolutely had to. I'm not a clean freak, not even close, but that room is gross.

Sometimes you have no choice. This was one of those times. I was standing there holding my nose, doing my business. I heard the door open and it suddenly got a little darker. Not like someone turning off the light, but like something big
blocking
the light. Like an eclipse. I thought maybe it was Ethan.

Then I heard, “Look what's here.” I was looking straight ahead. When I turned, standing next to me, doing
his
business, was Doug. If I could have, I would have walked away, but once you start it's hard to stop.

Doug said, “I hear you're not gonna be in the band.” I know that some people actually enjoy talking while they go to the bathroom, but I'm not one of them. I didn't say anything. Doug said, “That was Buzz's idea, not mine.”

I finished, finally. I thought about leaving without washing my hands. Some people do that. While I was deciding, Doug said, “Don't go anywhere. I have to talk to you.”

I washed my hands and waited. Doug finished (didn't flush, didn't wash) and came over to me. “I know all about your agent.”

What?! NO!!!!! This can't be happening. Not now. Buzz!! You
told
him?

“I don't have an agent.” I actually don't. Dan Welch is my manager.

“Don't lie to me. He helped you sell some movie or something.”

This is officially a nightmare. I was sure Buzz would forget that whole conversation. Why did I have to tell him? What's Doug going to do? Will he tell the studio that
I'm
actually Dan Welch?

“Are you rich now?”

I laughed. “Do I look like I'm rich?”

“No. You look like the same little loser you always were. Anyway, I want his number.”

This is terrible. Stay calm. Stay calm. “Whose number?”

“Your agent. What's his name . . . Dave Motts. What the hell are you laughing at?”

“I'm not.” (I was.) I told Buzz it was Welch like the grape juice, but he must have told Doug it was Motts like the apple juice. And that his name was Dave, not Dan.

“I don't even have a phone number for him. Why do you want to talk to him?”

“Our band, you idiot. If he can make
you
famous . . .”

“Doug. Do you actually think I'm famous?” He didn't say anything. “Here's what I can do. When your band records something, I promise I'll get Dave Motts to listen to it. If he likes it, I'm sure he'll want to represent you.”

Doug left the boys room, then I left. That wasn't so bad.

You know . . . Dan Welch actually
could
represent other people. Maybe not Buzz and Doug's band, but other really good people who can't get an agent. It's an interesting idea.

Walking home from school I passed Mr. Bentley's house. He was in his front yard, standing on a ladder near a tree, holding a long orange extension cord with nothing plugged into it.

I stood there and watched him for a minute. I don't think he saw me. He was concentrating really hard. Suddenly he threw the extension cord up into the tree. I don't know what he was trying to do, but the extension cord came back down and hit him on the head and he almost fell off the ladder.

I ran over. He looked a little embarrassed. I said, “I can hold the ladder if you want.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Sean. Your neighbor. I live right over there.” I pointed to our house.

“Oh, the plumber's kid.”

“Right. What are you trying to do?”

He pointed up. “See that big branch? I'm pretty sure it's dead. I'm trying to throw the extension cord so it goes over the branch, and then I'll pull it down.”

“With the extension cord?”

“I've done it before. You know how much these tree guys get?”

“Actually, no.” But now I was curious. “How much?”

“It's highway robbery.”

I still don't know how much the tree guys get, but I held the ladder while Mr. Bentley threw the extension cord. He kept missing, and the fourth time it landed on me. The plug part actually hurt.

“One more try, then I have to get started on my homework.” This time the extension cord went over the branch. Mr. Bentley came down off the ladder, grabbed both ends of the extension cord and started pulling. I thought about offering to help, but it looked like if the branch broke off, it would hurt a lot more than the extension cord when it hit you in the head.