Sean Rosen Is Not for Sale

by Jeff Baron

  As much as I like this new song, I was relieved when it was over, because with Buzz singing it right to Brianna, it was a little embarrassing standing there. I didn’t know where to look. I didn’t want to look at him and I didn’t want to look at her. I definitely didn’t want to look at Doug playing the drums. So that left Slade and Remy.

  Slade plays guitar, and when he plays, he looks like someone trying to look like a guy in a band playing guitar. He keeps jumping around and making these faces that don’t go with the song. It’s like he’s imagining being in a different band, his band, where people are watching him, not Buzz. It’s too weird.

  I ended up watching Remy, who plays the bass guitar. Remy just stands still and plays. You can tell he’s listening to Buzz and following along, and he looks like he’s happy to be here.

  When the song ended, they took a break. At Buzz’s house, in the room near the garage, they have a freezer with every possible snack you could ever want. There’s a microwave there too, in case the snack you choose is pizza or a taco.

  Brianna asked Buzz for a tour of the house, and they disappeared. Whatever adult was in the house, we never saw them. I was eating ice cream when Doug walked over.

  “We sound good, right?”

  “You do. I like the new song.”

  “Call Dave Motts and we’ll play it for him over the phone.”

  “No. I can’t just call him at night.”

  “Why not? He’s in California, right?”

  Uh-oh. I never actually decided where Dave Motts lives. Or Dan Welch.

  “I don’t even know where he lives. I don’t even have his phone number.”

  “Yes you do. He’s your agent, right?”

  “Dave Motts is not my agent.” (Technically true.)

  “Wait a minute, you little—”

  Then Buzz and Brianna walked back in. She looks happy.

  “Doug . . . I’ll do what I can. I promise.”

  I better figure something out soon.

  Chapter 9

  I think I should go visit my grandmother. Those are words I never actually said before in my whole life. I’m not saying I don’t like my grandmother. I do. Both of my grandmothers. I love them. But that doesn’t mean I want to spend a lot of time with them. Usually about an hour is good.

  The whole idea for A Week with Your Grandparents came because my parents were thinking about having a second honeymoon. The first one was a disaster. Well, that’s what I heard. I wasn’t born yet. When they told me they suddenly wanted a second one, they said I could stay with my grandmother. I said no.

  I have two grandmothers. My mom’s mom, who we call Mary Lou, lives in a senior living place. We see her every year, but I’ve only seen where she lives once. She has a bedroom, a bathroom, and a fridge, but no kitchen. She eats all her meals in a dining room at big tables with other old people. I might want to do my podcast there, but I couldn’t actually stay with Mary Lou.

  Not that she’d want me to. Mary Lou had six children (including my mom), and after all that, she had enough of kids. She likes to see her grandchildren, but only a little. Less than an hour, actually. At first I thought it was just me, but my cousins say the same thing. They all live near Mary Lou. My mom was the only one in her family who moved to another state. “It’s better this way, Sean. We can have a nice little visit, then we can leave.”

  My other grandmother is the one I might visit. She’s my dad’s mother, and she lives in another state too. The state of Florida. We see her a little more often. She only had two kids, so even though she complains about us sometimes, she actually likes being with her grandchildren. Sometimes we visit her and sometimes she visits us. When I talk to her, I call her Grandma, but when I talk about her, I call her by the name she made up for her email address. It’s ThornyRosen@ ______.com, but I just say Thorny.

  The grandmother in A Week with Your Grandparents is like Thorny in certain ways. She has opinions about everything, which she tells you even if you don’t ask her. Her main opinion is that everything is getting worse. “It’s all falling apart. It’s terrible.”

  Thorny and my dad argue all the time, but she and I have fun together. I think she’s annoying sometimes, and she thinks I’m annoying sometimes, but in a funny way. We argue, but we don’t get mad, like my dad sometimes does. He keeps thinking he can change her mind.

  I never knew Thorny’s husband, my dad’s dad. He died before I was born. No one ever talked about Grandpa, but a few months ago my dad told me what happened. It was pretty bad. He actually went to prison. He had a business that stole money from people. I can’t believe someone in my family did that. The rest of us are so not criminals.

  I hope. I’m a little worried that making up a manager might be a crime. But what would the crime be? Signing a made-up name to an email I actually wrote? Probably not.

  Anyway, I want to visit Thorny for two reasons. I want to ask her some questions. What was Grandpa like? Did he act like a criminal? Was he sorry for what he did? Did you know he was stealing? How did you find out?

  I could ask my dad. Or even my mom, because she knew him too. But Grandma knew him better. She married him. I don’t know if she’ll tell me, but maybe she will after we’re together for a little while.

  The second reason I want to visit her is research for my screenplay. I mostly understand the kids in my movie. Chris is a little older than me, and Chloe’s a little younger. They’re the kind of kids I know. But the grandparents . . . I usually know what they would do and what they would say. But I don’t always know why.

  Here’s an example. In the movie, we find out that Grandpa invented the virtual reality time machine a long time ago. He and Grandma tried it out and it actually works, but Grandma would never let him sell it, or even show it to anyone. I know she thinks it would be bad for the world, but I don’t know why.

  That’s something Thorny might do. She always complains about new things, but a lot of the time, I think she’s wrong. New things are cool. Think about it. I can record a podcast right here in my town. Then, sitting in my room, I can edit it and put it on the internet. A second later, someone I don’t even know, like Collectibles Dan Welch, can sit in his house (wherever that is) and watch that exact podcast.

  Collectibles still hasn’t forwarded that email about me to Dan Welch. It’s only been a day and six hours, but it only takes a few seconds to forward an email. And Collectibles seems like he’s always online. Maybe he went somewhere to buy a doll or an autograph or something.

  I check Dan Welch’s email account all the time, but I never check my own. Even though I don’t use email very much, my grandmothers do. Maybe there’s something from Thorny that’s been sitting there for a really long time. If I’m visiting her soon, I don’t want it to start out with her being mad at me.

  There’s something in my inbox, but it’s not from Thorny. It’s from Martin Manager (not his real name). Martin manages some famous people in show business, and before I got Dan Welch, I tried to get Martin to manage me. He wouldn’t because he doesn’t believe in managing kids, but he’s nice. He gave me advice once. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again.

  To: Sean Rosen

  From: Martin Manager

  Dear Sean,

  From the first time you wrote to me, I had a feeling I’d be hearing more about you, and it happened today. I was having lunch at the commissary at __________ (the studio Hank Hollywood is Chairman of), and a couple of high-level assistants were talking about you. It was along the lines of “Have you heard of this kid Sean Rosen?” and “Do you know what his idea is?”

  You’re the talk of Hollywood. I don’t know how you do it, Sean, but you do write a good letter, and maybe you’ve been writing a lot of them lately. Or maybe just a strategic few.

  One of the women at lunch was someone I don’t know, but the other one, the one asking the questions, works for the big guy there—Hank Hollywood (he used his real name). Out here, Hank is the shark that scares all the other sharks
.

  Did you end up selling your idea to Stefanie President? Or have you somehow managed to start a bidding war? See, Sean? You don’t need a manager. (He doesn’t know about Dan Welch.)

  Good luck. Be careful.

  Best,

  Martin

  Chapter 10

  I like Saturday mornings. First of all, there’s no school. I don’t hate school, but I don’t love school. My main problem with it is that it’s all day long, and there are a lot of other things I’d rather be doing. The parts of school that I like only take up a few hours, but then you’re stuck there for the rest of the day.

  So Saturday morning you wake up and you remember it’s not a school day. I love that feeling. I also like Saturday because it isn’t Sunday. So you’re not thinking about how it’s all going to start again tomorrow.

  I didn’t feel like getting out of bed yet, so I ran over and got my laptop and got back under the covers.

  Brianna changed her Facebook status to “In a Relationship.” That was fast. I wonder if Buzz knows. He isn’t on Facebook.

  I checked Dan Welch’s inbox. Collectibles still hasn’t forwarded that email. Why not? What’s in that email?? Who is it from???

  Hank Hollywood and his assistant have Dan’s email address, but for some reason, they’re not writing back. They’re just asking other people about me. Why? It’s weird. Why can’t we just have a Skype meeting?

  It would be so easy. I’ll tell him the idea, he’ll love it, and we can start working on it together. If we don’t get started soon, someone else is going to think of it.

  I Googled Hank Hollywood again. Oh my God. You know how much money he makes? Fifty million dollars a year. That’s like a million dollars a week. I get ten dollars a week.

  Maybe Hank Hollywood thinks he doesn’t need my idea. But he does. Trust me, they’ll give him a big raise.

  Okay, I have to get up. I’m glad Ethan is coming over. I could tell him about all this, and I probably will someday. But not today. Today we’re working on the podcast.

  Ethan moved to our town this year, a few months after school started. He’s very quiet, but he’s also the only one who gets every funny thing I ever say or do. He’s funny too, but you’d never know it. His voice never changes, no matter what he’s saying. His face doesn’t either. So when he says something funny, it takes you a second to get it, but then it’s even funnier because he said it that way. I keep trying to get him to talk on the podcast, but so far he won’t.

  This is the third Saturday of working with Ethan on the podcast. I was used to doing it by myself, but it’s actually more fun this way. I’m not the world’s biggest kid, but he might be (he’s gigantic—really tall, really big, not fat, just extra large), so we probably look funny when we walk into a place together. He usually stands off to the side while I do the interviews, but I know he’s there if I need anything. And he started taking some of the pictures. He’s good at it. When you look at the podcast, you probably can’t tell who took which pictures.

  Ethan comes over around ten, and we have breakfast with whoever’s home. The first week it was just my dad. My dad makes really good breakfasts. They always include bacon. The second week my dad was out on a job, but my mom had the day off. She makes good breakfasts too. She’s more of a fruit-and-yogurt person. Today they’re both here.

  DAD: (to Ethan) You like bacon, right?

  ETHAN: Yeah.

  DAD: Do you like rugelach?

  ETHAN: Do I like what?

  ME: Some people pronounce it roo-gela.

  MOM: (to me) That’s not it, honey. (then to Ethan, holding one up) This. It’s like a Jewish cookie. I never heard of it either. I mean, before I was a Rosen.

  DAD: Her family is about as un-Rosen as they get.

  MOM: Ethan, what’s your family like?

  DAD: Here she goes.

  ME: Ethan, you have the right to remain silent.

  DAD: Seriously. You don’t have to answer her questions. You won’t hurt her feelings.

  MOM: These two already took care of that. (to Dad and me) I refuse to apologize for being interested in people. (then to Ethan) So . . . what’s your family like?

  ETHAN: Small. Then it got even smaller.

  Everyone was quiet for a few seconds.

  ETHAN: My brother died.

  ME: He did?

  I don’t know why I said that. It just came out.

  ETHAN: Yeah.

  DAD: Recently?

  ETHAN: Last summer.

  My digital voice recorder was right there in the kitchen, sitting on the counter. Sometimes I just leave it on. I have a big memory card, and I like recording things, even just breakfast with my family. I wasn’t expecting anything like this to happen.

  I looked over at the recorder. You can see that the red light is on. I want to go over and turn it off, but I don’t want anyone to know it was on in the first place. I shouldn’t be recording this. I have to stop looking at it. I don’t know if I should be looking at Ethan right now, but I do.

  ME: That’s really sad.

  Ethan nodded. He didn’t say anything. But he wasn’t looking down like he does when he doesn’t want to talk.

  DAD: You’re gonna love bacon and rugelach.

  Ethan laughed.

  MOM: (to Ethan) As you heard, my family thinks I ask too many questions, but I want you to know . . . I’m not nosy. I’m interested.

  ETHAN: Go ahead. It’s okay.

  MOM: Really?

  ETHAN: Yeah.

  MOM: What happened?

  ETHAN: A car hit him.

  DAD: Hit and run?

  ETHAN: No. A friend of his. He was drunk. The friend, I mean. Not my brother.

  MOM: Oh, Ethan.

  My mom actually started to cry.

  Ethan got up and pointed to the rugelach.

  ETHAN: What did you say this is called?

  Today we’re working on a library podcast. The library is pretty close to my house. After breakfast, Ethan and I walked there. On the way, I usually talk about who we’re going to interview and what I want pictures of, but today I was quiet. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan’s brother. I guess he could tell.

  “You can ask me questions if you want.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Dwight. Everyone called him Skip.”

  “What was he like?”

  “The opposite of me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Great athlete. Everyone liked him.”

  “Including you?”

  “He didn’t bother much with me.”

  We walked some more.

  “Are you glad you moved?”

  “Yeah. I got tired of getting sad looks from everyone.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “What about them?”

  “Are they like . . . I don’t know. . . . How are they?”

  “You were in my house.”

  Once when we were riding bikes I had to use the bathroom, and we stopped at Ethan’s house. It was weird. Very dark, and it looked like they never really moved in. When we got there, his mom didn’t say hi. It looked like she actually hid.

  I didn’t know what else to say, so I started talking about the podcast.

  Chapter 11

  I grew up going to this library. They know me here. I came in the other day to ask if it was okay to do my podcast there. They didn’t exactly know what I was talking about, but they said yes.

  This man named Carl is sitting at a table. He’s always at the library. Like every single time I’ve been there. I don’t know anything about him. I can’t decide if I should interview him. I want to find out about him, but I’m not sure I want to be the one who finds it out.

  If I interview him, will he talk to me every time I come to the library? That happened from some of the other podcasts. They were always nice to me at the barber shop, but now when I go to get my hair cut, they all come over.
And the girl who works at the donut place sort of smiles at me when I come in now. She never did that before.

  “Ethan, what do you think?”

  “Go ahead. Talk to him.”

  So I did. I walked up to him. I waited until he stopped writing, which took a while. A minute and twelve seconds, actually. That’s a long time to stand next to someone.

  “Hi, Carl.”

  He looked at me, but he didn’t say anything.

  “We don’t really know each other, but we both use this library. My name is Sean.”

  He still didn’t say anything.

  “This thing I’m holding is a digital voice recorder. I’m actually recording right now. I’m interviewing people.”

  “About what?”

  “The library.”

  “What about it?”

  “What do you like the best about it?”

  “When it’s quiet.”

  Ethan, who was standing on the side, almost started laughing.

  I said, “I like that part, too. And I’m gonna stop talking soon, I promise. Do you remember the first time you went to a library?”

  “The first time? I was a little kid. Younger than you. What are you? Around ten?”

  Ethan turned away from us because this time he actually did start laughing.

  “I’m thirteen.”

  “Well, I must have been six. Or eight. My mother took me to some art class. You know, drawing. I hate drawing. I can’t draw. So one week we’d have to draw a horse, and another week it was a pear. It didn’t matter what it was. My horse looked exactly like my pear. I gave up trying. I’d scribble something on my paper, then get up and hide in the shelves.”

  “The teacher let you do that?”

  “She didn’t even notice. She was too busy with the kids who could draw. I would randomly pick books off the shelf and read until my mother came and got me. Nonfiction.”