Sean Rosen Is Not for Sale Read online

  “Like a real track meet?”

  “Yeah. A real track meet. Next Tuesday after school.”

  “All I have to do is run a mile?”

  “That’s it. I mean, you’ll come to track practice the rest of this week and train.”

  “When you say ‘train,’ what do you mean exactly?”

  “Oh, it’s fun. Just running around . . . a few exercises. Maybe a game.”

  “What kind of game?”

  “A running game. You’re gonna love it.”

  “Okay. Do I need to bring anything?”

  He reached into his pocket. “Just get one of your parents to sign this permission slip.”

  “What do I wear?”

  “Just gym clothes for practice. We’ll get you a uniform for the meet.”

  “A uniform? Really? So I’m actually on the team?”

  “You actually are. See you here after school tomorrow.”

  I went home and had a snack, did some homework, went for a bike ride, and looked at Dan Welch’s empty inbox about 200 times. Then I came downstairs for dinner. My mom was asking my dad about his day.

  MOM: I thought you already fixed their toilet.

  DAD: I did. This was a different one. These people have a lot of toilets.

  MOM: Was it really broken, or did she just want a little more alone time with the hot plumber?

  DAD: It was really broken.

  MOM: Interesting. She figured out how to break toilets. What was she wearing?

  DAD: I was looking at her toilet, not her.

  MOM: So you didn’t even notice. . . .

  DAD: You couldn’t not notice. How about you?

  MOM: How about me what?

  DAD: Don’t guys pretend they’re still sick so you can keep being their nurse?

  MOM: No.

  DAD: No?

  MOM: Yes.

  I had enough of this conversation.

  ME: Can one of you sign this?

  I handed them the permission slip. They looked at it together.

  ME: Do you want me to get your glasses?

  MOM: No.

  DAD: No.

  They both pretend they don’t need glasses. I don’t know why, but the farther away from their eyes they hold it, the easier it is for them to read. My dad held the permission slip. He has longer arms.

  MOM: You made the track team? Nice. I didn’t know you tried out.

  ME: I didn’t. They just want me to run in a race next week.

  DAD: Because of the President’s thing?

  ME: Exactly.

  DAD: Cool.

  MOM: Do you want to?

  ME: I guess.

  MOM: Good. Anything that’ll get you outside.

  ME: I go outside.

  MOM: Occasionally.

  DAD: He rides his bike a lot.

  MOM: A lot?

  ME: Who wants to sign it?

  DAD: I will. Your mom might miss the dotted line.

  My parents like to tease each other (and me sometimes), but they really like each other. A lot. I feel sorry for my friends whose parents fight all the time. Like Brianna.

  I know her parents fight all the time because she tells me. I’ve actually never seen her parents together. I met her mom a few times, and last week I finally met her dad.

  I went over to Brianna’s house after school to work on our math homework together. Well, I was going to work on it, and she was going to copy it when I was done.

  Brianna thinks math is obsolete. “There’s probably an app for it, and if not, your accountant or your business manager or your husband will take care of it.”

  This is the first time I ever heard Brianna say the word “husband.” I don’t know why, but I thought that growing up in a house where your parents always fight would make you not want to get married.

  I was sitting alone in her kitchen working on the math. She was on the phone talking to one of her many girlfriends. When I asked who it was, she decided she needed privacy, and she went to another room. It’s a huge house, so there are a lot of choices.

  A few minutes later, her dad walked into the kitchen. I knew it was her dad because he looks like Brianna. Her mom doesn’t, but maybe that’s because she keeps getting things changed on her face.

  It’s a big kitchen, so he didn’t see me at first. Then he did.

  “Who are you?”

  “Sean. I’m Brianna’s friend.”

  “Whose kid are you?”

  “I don’t think you know my parents.”

  “How do you know who I know?”

  “I don’t, actually. Do you know Jack and Elise Rosen?”

  “No.”

  “See?”

  He just looked at me for a second. “Whatever you’re doing here . . .”

  “Math.”

  “. . . how about doing it somewhere else?”

  “Oh. Sure. Okay.”

  I got up, and I quickly put my homework in my backpack and walked out the door. When I got outside, I didn’t know what to do. I know Brianna was counting on getting that homework from me. I guess I can finish it at home, then scan it and email it to her. I felt a little bad leaving without saying good-bye, but her dad is scary.

  I looked around, and suddenly I was very confused. I never came in or went out Brianna’s kitchen door before. I didn’t know whether to go left or right or straight ahead.

  If this was my house, it would be easy. We have two doors, and if you walk out the back door, you can go left or right, just follow along the house, and in a few seconds, you’re at the front door. But here, everything is really, really big.

  First I turned right and walked along the house. After a while, I came to a big locked gate. I kept looking for a way to open it, but I guess they really don’t want you to get in (or out).

  Then I walked in the other direction. When I passed the kitchen door, I ducked down so Brianna’s dad wouldn’t see me.

  I kept walking, but the house just went on and on. I finally got to the end of it, but there were all these tall bushes with gigantic thorns. You couldn’t walk through them. Farther down were some woods. I thought maybe I could find a way back to the street.

  There was something that sort of looked like a path, but then it turned out it wasn’t one. It’s all just gigantic trees. I looked in every direction, but I couldn’t see the house anymore. This was getting scary. How can you not see a house as big as Brianna’s?

  Suddenly I heard a dog barking. Really loud. At first I thought, “Oh, good. They sent a search party.” I was just about to start yelling, but then I thought, “What if it’s a wild dog with rabies? What if it’s some other forest animal that only sounds like a very loud dog?”

  Then I remembered my phone. I forgot I had it. I texted Brianna.

  S: I’m lost in the forest.

  B: Forest? What r u talking about?

  S: Outside your house.

  B: Why r u outside?

  S: Your dad told me to leave.

  B: No he didn’t.

  S: Yes he did.

  B: Did u finish the math?

  S: No. He told me to leave before I could finish.

  B: :-(

  S: I’m really lost. Can u come get me?

  B: I’m on the phone. Where r u?

  S: Go out the kitchen door, turn left, and walk into the woods.

  B: No way. I’ll send my dad.

  S: NOOOO!!!!

  Brianna’s dad found me. He was really mad. “When I told you to go somewhere else, I didn’t mean go snooping all over my property.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I meant go to a different room.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I wanted to use my kitchen. There are lots of other rooms in this house you could have gone to.”

  “Sorry. I should actually get going. Can you give me directions to the front door?”

  Chapter 4

  Finally! Something came for Dan Welch. It wasn’t from Hank Hollywood, but in a way, it’s even better. I think.r />
  To: Dan Welch Management

  From: Stefanie V. President

  Dan! How are you? I miss you! I miss Sean. How is he? I’m guessing he’s discovering how hard it is to write a screenplay. I tried once. As you know, it’s a residency requirement here in L.A.

  I got a funny phone call from Hank Hollywood. (She used his real name.) Did you know I started out in the business as his intern? Not an easy job, by the way. Marisa is now three months old, and last night, after hours and hours of feeding her, changing her, and rocking her, I thought, “Who do you remind me of?” Hank Hollywood! He wants what he wants when he wants it, and if he doesn’t get it, he starts screaming.

  Hank asked me about Sean. I know you threatened to go to them when I told you we’d need to bring in a screenwriter for A Week with Your Grandparents, but Hank doesn’t seem to know anything about the movie. He wants to know, but I’m not telling him. Were you just testing the waters? Or does Sean have another movie idea???

  As I told you back then, no one will ever let Sean write a big Hollywood feature. Even if Hank says he will, I guarantee you he’ll have a real screenwriter writing it at the same time. I know how he operates, and I would hate for Sean (or you) to get your hopes up.

  We still love the idea, and if Hank makes an offer, I hope you’ll let me know. I don’t know if you watch The Voice, but remember, I pushed my button first!

  I may even be able to sweeten the pot a little, but I still can’t hire Sean as a screenwriter. I actually ran it by the big cheese, and as I suspected, he laughed and said no.

  If you need me to deconstruct anything Hank Hollywood promises you, don’t hesitate to call or write. I’m his only ex-intern who’s still in the business.

  Tell Sean I send him a big hug, and please remind him that my door is always open to him. I want to hear any and every idea he has.

  Dan, you know the kinds of movies we do here. Let me know if any of your other clients (they don’t have to be adolescents) have something you think I’ll like.

  Best,

  Stefanie

  That’s so cool! The Chairman of maybe the biggest entertainment company in the world called the Vice President of one of the other biggest entertainment companies in the world to talk about ME. Dan Welch, you’ve done it again.

  I’ve actually been mad at Stefanie V. President since she said I couldn’t write my own movie, but her email reminds me how nice she is. I only met her on Skype, but still. Her door is always open to me.

  I had to look up a few things she said. She said she’d help us “deconstruct” what Hank Hollywood promises. I think she’s saying she can tell us what he really means. I wish I had someone to help me deconstruct the fifty-page contract that Stefanie’s business affairs department sent me for A Week with Your Grandparents. I ended up not signing it.

  When she said she might be able to “sweeten the pot,” I think she means she can pay me more money for A Week with Your Grandparents. She already sweetened the pot once. At first they offered me only 500 dollars, but then when Dan Welch complained, they changed it to 10,000 dollars.

  I wonder how sweet she would make the pot. It doesn’t really matter if they still won’t let me write the screenplay. Does it? What if she offered us a million dollars?

  I went downstairs. My parents were still in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. My dad was doing the dishes. Whoever makes dinner, the other one cleans up. My mom was finishing her glass of wine.

  ME: What would you do if I gave you a million dollars?

  I’m not saying I’d give it to them, at least not all of it, but I wanted to hear what they’d say.

  DAD: I’d get my van painted.

  MOM: You wouldn’t just get a new van?

  DAD: No. I like my van.

  MOM: Except for the color?

  DAD: No. I like the color. I’m getting tired of that slogan.

  ME: Finally.

  I’m not going to tell you the slogan because my dad’s a good guy, and I want you to like him. Everyone makes bad jokes sometimes, but when it’s a plumbing joke, and it’s on your van, it’s worse.

  ME: So if you had a million dollars, you’d keep working?

  DAD: Definitely.

  MOM: Jack, we can just paint over that slogan. You don’t need a million dollars. Let’s do it right now.

  ME: Mom, would you keep working?

  MOM: (to me) Absolutely.

  (to my dad) Are you done? I know a paint store that’s still open.

  Okay, forget the million dollars. My parents don’t even want it. Maybe Stefanie and “the big cheese” at her studio will find out I actually can write a screenplay.

  Hank Hollywood didn’t say anything about my big idea to Stefanie. And she won’t tell him what A Week with Your Grandparents is about. I guess I’m not the only one who keeps secrets.

  Chapter 5

  After I woke up, I stayed under the covers for a few minutes. Why am I so nervous? It’s only track practice. Whatever that is. I really have no idea what they do. What we do. I guess I’m on the team now. I wonder who else is on the track team. Is it boys and girls together?

  Do people actually come to watch middle-school track meets? A lot of people? Will having a bunch of people watching me make me run faster . . . or slower? What if they start cheering? Will that make me want to win even more? Or will I start worrying that everyone who’s cheering for me will hate me if I lose?

  At least I’m not worrying about Hank Hollywood writing back to Dan Welch. Now that I know he called Stefanie to ask about me, I have a feeling we’ll hear from him soon.

  We got a fun assignment in English today. We have to do an interview with a character in the book we’re reading. You ask them questions and then you imagine how they would answer. I like to do interviews. I don’t know if you ever saw my podcasts (www.SeanRosen.com), but they’re mostly interviews.

  I doubt Miss Meglis, our English teacher, ever saw my podcasts. I don’t talk about them much at school. When things are on the internet, you don’t know who looks at it. It would be fun to know.

  Actually, maybe it wouldn’t, because if you knew that someone watched your podcast and then you saw them and they didn’t say anything about it, you would think they hated it. But you might be wrong. Maybe they started it, but then they got interrupted and didn’t really watch it, even though your List of Watchers says they did.

  I keep wanting to ask kids in my class if they’re on the track team, but I have no idea who to ask. Maybe after English, I’ll ask my friend Javier. He’s good at sports. I think he’s actually the star of the soccer team. He moved here last year from Argentina. For some reason, people from Argentina are better at soccer than we are.

  “Javi, are you on the track team?”

  “No. I want to be, but I got my extra English class after school.”

  “You have your extra English class after school.” He always wants me to correct him.

  “I have my extra English class after school. Why, amigo?”

  “Oh. Coach Obester sort of asked me to be on the team.” I never called Mr. Obester “Coach” before, but I’ve heard kids on teams do it.

  “Cool, Sean. You the man.”

  “You’re the man.”

  “No. You’re the man. Running, no?”

  “Sí.”

  “You’re fast. I remember. Hey, Doug! Guess what?”

  NO! I don’t want everyone to know I’m on the track team until I’m sure I actually am. Mr. Obester might change his mind. And Doug is the last person I would tell. He’s on the football team, and he always makes fun of me. In fact, the reason I ran the mile so fast in the President’s Challenge was because I was running away from Doug. In fact, Doug might even be on the track team. Not running, but maybe throwing something. He’s strong. At least he looks strong.

  “What?”

  “Sean’s on the track team.”

  “He is?” I’ve known Doug since we were five years old. He was about to say something rea
lly mean, but then you could see him stop and remember that I might be helping Taxadurmee get a recording contract. “Good.”

  I made myself talk to him. “Doug, are you on the track team?”

  “Nah.” You could see him think of what he wanted to say and then not say it. But then he couldn’t help it. “I’m on real teams. Football and baseball.”

  Javier said, “Track is real. The Olympics.”

  “Right. Sorry, Sean. Hope you win a gold medal. When are you going to hear something from Dave Motts?”

  “He’s very busy, Doug. As soon as I hear something I’ll let you know.”

  “Whatever.”

  There are places in my school where I feel completely comfortable. Like Miss Meglis’s English class. Like the Publication Room (I’m one of the yearbook editors). My other comfortable place will sound strange, because for a lot of kids it’s the scariest place in the whole school. The principal’s office. As in “Go to the principal’s office! Right now!”

  I actually did get sent to the principal’s office that way. It was scary. Especially the first time. But then I got to know the principal a little. Mr. Parsons is tough, but I think he’s fair. He listens when you tell him why you did whatever stupid thing you did. Sometimes he punishes you, but not by yelling at you in front of everyone. He takes away something you like.

  My parents try to do that too, but he’s better at it than they are. When he gives you a punishment, he never changes it. If you get caught using your phone during school, then for a whole week you have to give him your phone when you get to school. One kid gave Mr. Parsons his phone, but the next day he brought another phone, and when he got caught using it, Mr. Parsons took that one too. He wouldn’t give either of them back until the kid’s parents came in. They ended up taking him out of our school. I guess now he’s in a school where they let you use your phone.

  Mr. Parsons’s assistant is named Trish, and she’s one of my favorite people at the school. I like to visit her sometimes. She’s smart and she’s funny, and she knows how everything works at our school. If there’s ever a nuclear attack, and for some reason it happens at our school, she’s the person I would follow. That probably won’t happen.