Page 66 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“I thought you were, like, a professional at this.” Dylan is standing next to me, arms folded. “I mean, youwerea corpse on a major television show.”

I shoot her a look. “Waydifferent. This isn’t my normal audience. Or venue. Or... anything. Nothing about this is normal.”

“Well, you heard the old guy. Suck it up.”

“You say ‘the old guy’ as if that doesn’t describe ninety-five percent of the people here.”

“There’s also that hot guy you keep staring at,” she says. “The one who drove you around the first day you got here.”

I glance at her.

Dylan stares back without a hint of expression. Without breaking eye contact, she pulls out her phone, taps a few buttons, and points the camera at me.

“Dylan, if you even think—”

She cuts me off. “Oh, don’t worry, this is just for me.” I swear that girl doesn’t blink.

I grit my teeth and hit the heels of my hands against my thighs. The mere mention of Booker has me even more on edge.I purposely didn’t mention Connie’s little plan last night when he and Louie sat down at our table during family dinner. Is it too much to hope he might miss the memo on my performance?

I peek into the dining hall where Connie is tapping on the microphone on one side of the room, scanning the crowd for any sign that the “hot guy” is there, but it’s hard to see the whole room from where I’m standing.

This is what I do. It’s who I am. Why am I nervous about this? Because there’s more riding on it?

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

I turn to go, but Dylan blocks me, still holding up her phone, still recording me. “Don’t be a chicken.”

I smile, reach up, and gently place a hand on her phone, covering the camera, and she gives an “Oh, fine,” and clicks the phone off.

The door behind her opens and Daisy rushes in. Louie is right behind her. I watch the door for several long seconds and feel myself relax when it slowly closes and Booker isn’t with them.

“Oh no. What are you guys doing here?” I ask.

“We heard you’re singing,” Daisy says. “Connie sent out a mass email and announced it on the intercom in the clubhouse. ‘Come seeLaw & Orderalum and Sunset Players theatre director Rosie Waterman take the stage in our very own dining hall at lunch today!’” She holds her hands up in the air as she says this, like she’s making a grand proclamation.

Strangely, I feel better that they’re here.

Like a cheering section.

“You’re in for a real treat.” I chuckle to myself as I look at Dylan, who gives a thumbs-up without looking away from her phone.

Daisy squeezes my arm. “We’re going to go get a good seat.”

A good seat. In a cafeteria. Now I’ve heard everything.

They rush off, leaving me standing there, feeling the same inevitable feeling I experience before every performance.

The countdown has started, the curtain is going to go up, and the show is going to start whether I’m ready or not.

“None of these people will care if you suck,” Dylan says. “Half of them won’t be able to hear you and the other half of them won’t even remember.”

I cross my arms and glare at her, not bothering to explain that not everyone who lives here is actually senile. “I don’t suck.”

She makes a face at me and slowly brings the phone up, pointing it at me again. She shakes the phone at me as if to say,“Prove it.”

“I know what you’re doing, you little goblin.” I narrow my eyes. “It won’t work.”

“Goblin. Huh. Solid choice.” And then she smiles in approval.

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