Page 28 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“Lived? Like, past tense?”

Shoot. I can’t afford to slip up if I want to keep myselftomyself. And I do. I totally do.

Right?

A Mark Twain quote pops in my head: “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”

Shut up, Mark.

“Live,” I say quickly and then add, “sorry. I’m not there a ton because, you know, travel and so on.”

“Ah.” He seems to buy it. “Movies.”

“And things.” I nod, hoping my horrible poker face doesn’t give away that I’m only holding a two and a seven, offsuit.

“You have neighbors, though, right?” He’s watching me again. But it’s more than watching. It’s like he’s trying to actuallyknowme. And I’m not used to that. The only people who actually know me are my friends from home. And that’s only by default because they were there as I was becoming who I am.

In some ways, I’ve gotten so far away from that girl...

“Oh yeah,” I say. “I just don’t know them very well.”

Actually, that’s not entirely true. I’ve used the people in my building for inspiration for characters lots of times.

“I mean, there’s Archie, a self-proclaimed ‘monster demon,’ who everyone avoids at all costs. He’s got quite a few... er... piercings and wide, wild eyes.” I picture the floor of our building. “And Mrs. Righetti, whose idea of ‘taking out the trash’ is setting all of her garbage bags in the hallway. Oh! And there’s a guy named Danny who wears a robe. And only a robe. Definitely been arrested for public indecency more than once.”

Booker chuckles, folding his arms and leaning against the back of the couch. “It’s different here. They want you to get to know people. And everyone’s really friendly. I mean, it’s all part of the mission,” he says. “People living in community.”

“I knew this was a cult,” I mutter.

He laughs. “The staff does family dinner pretty often in the Commons, which is right”—he walks over to the window and points to the building at the end of the oval—“There.”

He’s really close to me. Onstage this is hardly an issue, but here, in my real life...

I take a step back and try not to let on that I’m a little breathless. “Family dinner? I thought you just ate in the dining hall with everyone else.”

“I mean, you can,” he says, shrugging. He makes his way back across the room, thank the Lord. “And most of us do, for breakfast and lunch. But the staff lives in this pocket neighborhood, separate from the residents, so it’s a chance to, you know, get to know your coworkers away from the job. It’s not mandatory, of course. I mean, you can eat frozen pizza in your bedroom if you want.” He chuckles at this.

“Frozen pizza?” I scoff. “How do you know I’m not an amazing cook?”

“Are you?”

“No. I’m actually terrible.”

“We have cooking classes too,” he says. “Daisy sets them up, so you can ask her for all the details.”

“That...,” I ponder, “could actually be fun.”

“See? You fit here already.”

I fit here. Huh.

“Do you live in this little... pocket neighborhood?” I ask.

He eyes me for a fleeting moment, then quips, “Are you going to stalk me?”

I shrug. “Probably.”

“As long as I’m prepared.” There’s amusement in his tone. “The blue one across the yard is mine.” He points toward the front door. “I manage the staff cottages, so one of the perks is I don’t have a housemate. Anything that goes wrong, they call me, and I’m the guy who’ll fix it.”

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