Page 133 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“Hopefully the camera won’t add ten pounds. Now go out there and tell them how amazing I am.”

Chapter 37

That evening, we take a break from rehearsing in the dance studio to watch the news segment on one of the televisions in the lobby, usually used for sharing Sunset Hills’ announcements.

When I show up on the screen, everyone cheers, which is oddly overwhelming. All I’m doing is what I should’ve done from the start—taking ownership of this show.

Across the lobby, a phone rings.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Do you really not know what a phone is?” Sadie asks. “Young people.” She rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t know there was a phone in the lobby.”

“It’s the box office,” Grace says. “Do you think someone wants tickets?”

“Should we answer it?” Veronica asks.

“Of course we should.” Belinda bustles over to the box office and picks up the landline, then proceeds to give the person on the other end a full rundown of where the theatre is located.

Dylan glances up from behind her laptop. “We just sold fifty-eight tickets.”

“And the segment isn’t even over.” Connie looks at me. “Rosie, you are a genius.”

At that, I smile.

And I don’t stop smiling all the way through rehearsal.

The thing that threatened to close the show completely, actually brought everyone closer together.

As I sit back and watch my cast walk through the second act, a thought hits me. Maybe I don’t need Broadway or a big movie career or a national tour to be happy.

Maybe I just need to do what I love with people I love.

If this summer has shown me anything, it’s that dreams shift and change. They grow and evolve. The life I’d always imagined for myself wasn’t the one I was living. And now, because of this place and these people, I wonder, for the first time in, oh, forever, if my dream could look different.

There’s just one problem. I still love acting. I still love being the one on the stage.

Am I ready to give that up in favor of a different kind of life?

The thought looms like a creeping storm in the west.

Once we finish rehearsal, I give the cast my notes, thank them for being amazing, and send them on their way. I watch everyone go, noting the way they interact with each other, and soon I’m left in the seats with only Dylan.

She looks at me, then quickly looks away.

“What?”

She shakes her head.

“Dylan?”

“It’s just...” She picks at a hangnail, and I don’t prod her to talk because I know teenagers hate that. Instead, I go still, giving her space to figure out how and what she needs to say because there’s obviously something on her mind. “It was, I don’t know, easier before you got here or whatever.”

“Oh.” My shoulders drop. “Like, better, or...?”

“No, not like that. I mean...” She lifts her chin, then sighs. “It was easier to ignore everyone.”

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