Page 50 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

My eyes are wide when I look back at her, and they go wider when I realize she’s now looking at me. “Oh, it’s a musical.”

Her face melts into an annoyed expression. “What?”

“Since there’s music, it’s a musical,” I say. “Plays don’t have—It’s a common—” I snap my jaw shut. I sound like the theatre people I can’t stand to be around. “Did you like it?”

She shrugs, and her expression says it wasn’t terrible.

“I love that show. I mean, who doesn’t love Jeremy Jordan, am Iright? And who can’t get behind the rousing call to action of every showstopping number?” I throw a fist in the air in solidarity.

She stares at me blankly, then says, “Who?”

“Uh, never mind,” I say. “I just wondered about the theatre thing because, like I said, I’m in charge of a show they’re putting on here.Cinderella?”

I say it like it’s a question. Like she might not know who Cinderella is. I’m internally face-palming because I’m bombing this little interaction worse than I bombed the one with Booker.

“Wow.” The word couldn’t have been drier.

“Do you, maybe, want to be on my team?” I ask.

She presses her lips together but doesn’t say anything.

After a beat, I say, “I like your nose ring,” which was a super dumb thing to say. This is worse than a blind first date set up by my mother.

And yet, that doesn’t stop me from saying, “I kind of want to get one, but I don’t think I can pull it off.”

“I don’t think you can either.”

Ooh, I like this girl.

“We have auditions next week over in that theatre building—do you know the one?”

No response.

“It’s—” I go to point, then crane my neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of it because I have no idea where it actually is. “Uh. Well, shoot. Somewhere around here.”

She’s watching me again.

I know nothing about this girl, only that she lives in a place that is not conducive to being a teenager. I assume the circumstances of her being here aren’t great.

Maybe she just needs a friend.

“Well, I’m sure you can find it. Anyway, Monday morning the creative team is meeting, and auditions start at 9:00 a.m. Tuesday, if you want to join me,” I say.

“You want me to help with a show that has a bunch of old people in it?” she asks, then drops her head down and looks at me like Wednesday Addams. “For fun?”

I wince. “Weird, right? I thought it was kind of weird too. We’ve got an ambulance on standby for the tap numbers,” I quip.

She half laughs. It’s just her breathing air faster through her nose, but it feels like a win.

“Seems lame,” she says. “Why are you doing it?”

“I needed the work.” I look away. That just popped out. I clamp my jaw shut and try again. “And I’m... excited about it.”

“Yeah, you look excited.”

“Yeah, so do you,” I volley back. “You must have tons of stuff to do around here.” I pause. “In the old folks’ home.”

She purses her lips and rolls her eyes, conceding the point.

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