Page 134 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

I nod.

“People left me alone.”

“I mean, you kind of gave off a vibe.”

She glares at me as only Dylan can.

“I haven’t had a lot of luck, you know”—she looks down—“Caring about other people.”

I watch her, but she won’t meet my eyes. I want to tell her I haven’t had a lot of luck with that either but decide it’s best if I just listen.

“I shouldn’t have done this show because now”—she looks up at me, struggling—“Now you’re going to leave, and it’s...” Her lower lip quivers, and she pushes the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Sostupid. I hate crying.”

“I don’t really want to leave either,” I tell her. “I’ve learned a lot here. And I’ve grown to really like—”

She looks at me. “Booker?”

I laugh. “A lot of people.” I pause. “Includingyou, you nerd.”

“Whatever, boomer.”

I laugh. “Boomer? I’m not even thirty!”

“Whatever. You’re old.”

I shake my head and laugh.

“For what it’s worth,” she continues, “I think a lot of people have grown to like you too.”

We sit in silence for a few long seconds, and then I announce, “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about my life choices.”

I don’t have to turn to know I have her attention.

“I’ve been chasing this big dream—my dream—for a long time. Forever, really.”

She looks at me. “To work with old people?”

I chuckle. “No. That is not the big dream. Shocker, right?” I take a breath and lean back in my chair. “To perform. To be in front of a camera or an audience.”

She shrugs. “So go do that.” She says it like it’s easy.

“There’s no stability in it. Only rejection. So. Much. Rejection.”

Is it weird that being honest with a teenager comes easily to me when being honest with almost everyone else in my life doesn’t?

“Huh,” she says. “I think that would suck.”

I nod. “It does suck. It sucks the life right out of you.” I pause and feel like I’m learning this as I’m saying it. Because while I know something needs to change, I haven’t worked out the what or the how. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out how to keep doing what I love without sacrificing my happiness.” I go still. “Ireallywant to be happy again.”

She leans back in her chair, matching my posture. “Happiness is overrated,” she deadpans.

I turn to her. “Tell me your life isn’t happier since you’ve started on this show.”

She shrugs. “Whatever.”

I nod. “Yeah. Uh-huh. I’m right.” I make an explosion with my hands. “Boom. Drop the mic.”

She stares, trying not to laugh. “Don’t ever do that again.”

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