Sean Rosen Is Not for Sale

by Jeff Baron

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He thought he’d save a few bucks. I don’t think he did. Anyway, I trusted this guy who was just using me to get information.”

  “What did you do?”

  “There was nothing I could do. Except never work with him again. But it still hurts. I trusted him. He acted like we were friends. He still acts like we’re friends. It reminded me that business is business. Believe me, it would have been much worse if a real friend did something like that to me.”

  I thought for a minute. Did I ever do that to a friend? Did I do that by pretending to Buzz about Dave Motts? I hope not. Maybe I stopped just in time.

  Then I thought about Stefanie and Ashley.

  “Do a lot of people in business pretend to be your friend?”

  “Yeah. They do. I’d say about . . . half of them.”

  “What do the other ones do?”

  “They’re just themselves. Some are nice. Some are weird. Some don’t want to be your friend. That’s fine with me. Let’s just get the work done and go home to our real friends.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Seany . . . I’m just gonna assume that when you want to talk to me about something . . . you know . . . something that’s going on with you . . . you’ll just do it, right? I mean, you don’t want me to . . . drag stuff out of you. Do you?”

  I had to think about that. Sometimes I think I actually do.

  “No. That’s Mom’s job.”

  “And she’s so damn good at it.”

  “Too good.”

  “She’s working tonight. How about an early dinner at the diner?”

  “Like now?” Suddenly I’m hungry.

  “Yeah.” He got down off the ladder. “Let’s go. You can tell me about the movie you’re writing. Or not.”

  “Did Mom tell you?”

  “No. Grandma did. She said she can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “I didn’t know that. That’s good.”

  We both like this diner. They know us there. Dad had a grilled Swiss cheese with bacon and tomato and a cup of soup, and I had a fried fish sandwich. We shared an order of fries. I had a chocolate shake.

  My mom called while we were there. She asked me about the interview. She was the one the school called to get permission.

  I told my dad I’d rather have him read the screenplay when I finish it than just tell him the story. He said okay.

  After we ate, Dad was going to meet his friend Ray to go bowling. He asked if I wanted to come, but he knew I didn’t. He already has his bowling ball in the van, so he’s just going to drop me at home. We drove past the Dahlins’ house, and oh my God! Oh my God! OH MY GOD!!!

  I totally forgot about Baxter.

  Chapter 34

  I jumped out of the van. I didn’t say good-bye to my dad. I couldn’t talk. I sort of waved.

  I can’t believe I did this. How could I do this? My first day taking care of Baxter, and I forgot all about him. He hasn’t been walked or fed since seven this morning. That’s almost twelve hours!

  What does he do when he can’t get outside? Pee on the floor? Poop on the rug? Look for an open window?

  I ran into our house and up the stairs to my room. I fell on the stairs. Maybe I’m hurt, but who cares. Poor Baxter. I got the key to the Dahlins’ house out of my backpack and kept running.

  Is he okay? Did he eat furniture because he ran out of food? I am such an idiot. I thought about all the things I was doing when I should have been with Baxter. Talking about my podcast to some spy. Listening to Brianna complain about Buzz. Pretending I’m a talent manager chatting with a vice president. Talking to my dad about trusting people. I’m the one you can’t trust.

  I’m sorry, Baxter. I’m sorry.

  I got to the house. There’s a light on. Did I leave it on? Maybe they left it on for Baxter. What am I gonna find when I open this door? I’m scared.

  I opened the front door. When I did that this morning, Baxter ran over and jumped on me. But now, nothing. I stood there and looked around. No pee. No poop. No dog.

  I’m so scared. I don’t even know what I’m scared of. But I’m too scared to talk. I’m scared that if I yell “Baxter!” he’ll be so mad at me that he’ll run over and do something like . . . I don’t even know what. Bite me? No. I don’t think so. But if I had to pee for hours and hours and it was your fault, maybe I would want to bite you. Or pee right in front of you here on the rug.

  So I didn’t call him. I sort of tiptoed through the house. There’s no light on in the kitchen, but with the living room light on, you can see in there a little bit. Oh, no. The kitchen floor is wet. What is it? It’s probably pee. Oh, Baxter. It’s my fault you had to pee in the kitchen. But where are you?

  I’m a few steps closer now. I see a wire. Like an electrical wire. It’s lying in the puddle. This is bad. Wires are not supposed to be in puddles.

  I’m scared. I take one more step. Wait. That’s Baxter’s leg. He’s lying on the floor. Right next to the puddle. He’s not moving.

  Oh my God. Oh my God. I electrocuted Baxter. I can’t breathe.

  I make myself take another step. It’s him. He’s lying there. He’s not moving. I killed Baxter. I started crying. What should I do? Should I call 911? It’s too late for 911.

  He’s dead. And I did it. I can’t look at him. I went back to the front door. I just stood there.

  I don’t know what to do. I took out my phone and called Ethan. He answered right away.

  “Hi, Sean. . . . Are you there? . . . Hello?”

  I hadn’t said a word the whole time I was at the Dahlins’. It took me a few seconds to be able to talk.

  “Ethan . . . I did something terrible.” I was still sort of crying.

  “Where are you?”

  “Right around the corner from my house. In the blue house with the fence.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Ethan didn’t even ask me what I did. He’s coming. I don’t know what he can do, but he’s coming. What is wrong with me?

  God, can’t you punish me and not Baxter? He didn’t do anything wrong. He was such a great person. I mean dog.

  I’m going back in there. He’s dead, but still. I don’t want him to be alone.

  I walked back into the kitchen. It was still dark in there.

  “Baxter . . . I’m sorry, boy. I’m so sorry. You were the best dog ever. How am I gonna tell the Dahlins?”

  Wait.

  I think he moved.

  No. I’m imagining it. I turned on the light.

  “Baxter . . . are you . . . not dead?”

  He picked his head up. He’s ALIVE! Thank you, God.

  But wait! He’s right next to the puddle and the wire. “Baxter! Don’t move!”

  I guess he was sleeping before, and now he’s awake. He’s moving.

  “Stay away from the puddle!”

  Does he even know what a puddle is? I ran to the other side of the kitchen, away from the puddle.

  “Baxter! This way! Come here. Come to me.”

  He ran over to me. “Good boy. Baxter, I’m so sorry.”

  He stopped listening. He’s starting to go to the back door, which is on the other side of the puddle.

  “No! No, Baxter!” He has to pee. He wants to go out.

  There’s a knock at the front door. I hope it’s Ethan.

  “Come in!”

  I hear the door open. “Sean?”

  “We’re back here. Ethan, call Baxter.”

  “What’s his number?”

  “No! No! He’s a dog! Just call his name!”

  “Baxter! Come here, Baxter!”

  Baxter ran toward the front door. I want to get his leash, but it’s on the other side of the puddle, near the back door. I can’t reach it.

  “Just hold him. I’ll be right there.”

  Ethan has him. Baxter is shaking. He looks like he’s going to explode. I take his collar,
and we go outside. He wants to run, but I’m holding on to his collar with both hands. Ethan is looking at me like I’m crazy. So is Baxter.

  Baxter lifts his leg and starts peeing. And peeing and peeing and peeing.

  “Did you ever hear of a leash?” It’s not Ethan. I look up. It’s Mr. Bentley, who lives a few houses away. He’s standing in the street looking at us.

  “Thanks, Mr. Bentley. Next time I’ll try that.” He walked away. Baxter kept peeing.

  He finally stopped. I waited to see if he wanted to poop too, but either he doesn’t have to or he can’t with me holding his collar. We went back inside.

  “Ethan, can you go close the door to the kitchen?”

  I sat down with Baxter and apologized about ten more times. Then, when Ethan came back, I explained what happened.

  “I was sure I electrocuted him. I still think I did.”

  “No. We couldn’t have touched him if he was electrified.”

  “But there was a wire in a puddle of whatever that was.”

  “It’s water. Come here. I’ll show you.”

  All three of us looked in the kitchen.

  Ethan pointed. “See? He knocked over his water dish trying to get the back door open. And that’s just an extension cord. That can get wet. What you don’t want is a bare wire in the water.” Ethan unplugged the extension cord and used paper towels to wipe up the floor. “Because if Baxter was standing in the water and he chewed on that wire, that would have been it.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t chew on that wire, because I also forgot to feed him for twelve hours.”

  Baxter must know the word “feed,” because he went right over to the cabinet where his food is. I gave him two treats while I got his real food ready. “Ethan . . . should we take him to the vet? Just to make sure he’s okay?”

  We stood there and watched Baxter eat.

  “Nah. He’s fine. We’ll take him for a walk when he’s done eating.”

  He was done in about twenty seconds. “Should I give him more? He missed a meal.”

  “Maybe after the walk.”

  “That’s right. Walk first, then eat.”

  Chapter 35

  The three of us walked to the park. No one said anything for a while. That’s normal for Ethan and Baxter. I think I was still trying to believe that Baxter is really alive. That was the worst I ever felt in my life.

  Baxter’s walking along the exact same way he always does. Looking around, sniffing things. I don’t know how he does it. He walks down this street every single day, but he always acts like he’s seeing it for the first time.

  Finally Ethan said something. “I looked up Teen Doers.”

  “Ugh. I didn’t think of Baxter even once during that whole interview. I am a bad person.”

  “You’re just not used to taking care of a dog.”

  “I’m not used to taking care of anything. Not even myself.”

  What if I really am a bad person?

  “You do a lot of things. Maybe you don’t have time for a dog right now.”

  “Still . . . you’d think I could take care of Baxter for a day and a half without killing him.”

  “You didn’t kill him.”

  “Right.”

  “Nice try, though.”

  “Shut up.”

  “So . . . Teen Doers. It’s an online magazine about kids who start businesses and charities. They should just call it GettingIntoCollege.com.”

  “Sean Rosen. I read about him in Teen Doers . . . but I hear he kills dogs. Should we accept him . . . or reject him?”

  “The magazine is owned by _______________.” That’s Hank Hollywood’s company.

  “No it isn’t.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Ethan waited to see if I was going to say anything else. We got to the park. Baxter pooped. I’m glad. He is all right.

  “Ethan, I feel bad not telling you things.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I swear it’s not because I don’t trust you. Because I do.”

  He didn’t say anything. We just kept walking.

  “This sounds like an excuse, even to me . . . but I don’t want to get you in trouble. You know, if I get in trouble. You know . . . for what I’m doing.”

  He finally said something. “Sean, when you’re ready to tell me something, you just will. That’s okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not afraid of getting in trouble.”

  I thought about that. “Well . . . you already know way more than anyone else. You’re the only person who doesn’t work in Hollywood and isn’t my grandmother who knows the story of A Week with Your Grandparents.”

  “That’s the name of it?”

  “I thought I told you.”

  “No. You just told me the story.”

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s . . . it’s not . . . it’s just not as interesting as the movie is.”

  “I agree. What should the name be?”

  “I don’t know. Did you change the story much?”

  I had to think about that. “No. The story hasn’t really changed. But there are lots of new things. New characters. New places they go to in the past. You get to know everyone a lot better. So the basic story is the same, but now it’s a lot more interesting.”

  “Cool. It was already good. Well, whenever you’re ready to know what the average American teenager thinks, I’m ready to read it or hear it or whatever.”

  “Average?”

  “Joke. Is it really gonna be a movie?”

  “It might be. And not ‘might’ like ‘Anything is possible’ or ‘Never say never.’ But ‘might’ like it really might. But I really don’t know.”

  We’re almost back at the house.

  “Do you think I should I tell the Dahlins?”

  “The what?”

  “The Dahlins. Baxter’s family.”

  “Tell them what?”

  “That I almost starved and electrocuted their dog.”

  We both looked at Baxter.

  “Nah. He’s fine.”

  “Okay.”

  “Set an alarm on your phone so you don’t forget again. Even these dorky phones have alarms.”

  “Good idea.”

  After Ethan left, I went home and got my homework and brought it back to the Dahlins’. Baxter sat and watched me work.

  I apologized a few more times, but I actually think he isn’t mad at me. If he did the same thing to me, I would be mad. But he’s a dog. In my song about dogs in my podcast there’s a line, “Whatever you do, he always forgives you.” I don’t know why, but it’s true.

  Chapter 36

  Wednesday morning when I went to walk Baxter, it was like nothing happened. He’s fine, and we had a very nice walk. We didn’t talk about what happened yesterday. Sometimes when you apologize too much, you don’t sound sorry anymore, just annoying.

  I fed him, then I looked around the kitchen. It looks normal, except I’m not sure where the Dahlins usually have that extension cord.

  “Okay, Baxter. Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll see you after school. I promise.”

  The day in school was okay. I wasn’t called to the principal’s office. Nothing unusual happened, which was totally fine with me.

  At the end of the day, all the seventh graders had to watch a bus-safety video for our trip to Pine Tree Wilderness Retreat this weekend. I took a lot of notes.

  Afterward, Javier said, “Amigo, are you nervous about the bus?”

  “No. I was writing down ideas for a funny bus-safety podcast.”

  “Siempre estás pensando.” (“You are always thinking.”)

  “Es verdad.” (“It’s true.”) Sometimes I think it would be easier to not have so many ideas, but I guess I’ll never know, because I just do.

  The minute school was over, my Baxter alarm went
off. Thanks, Ethan.

  On my way to the Dahlins’, I got a text from Buzz.

  We

  He wants to play Wii baseball.

  Can’t today. Tomorrow?

  Oka

  That’s probably a yes.

  When Baxter and I got back from our walk, the Dahlins’ car was in the driveway. They weren’t supposed to be back until late tonight. I’m a little sad.

  “Hi, boys!” That’s Mrs. Dahlin saying hi to Baxter and me. He looks happy to see her. Not like relieved happy. Just happy. “How’d it go?”

  Part of me wanted to tell her how it actually went. But a bigger part of me wants to do this again sometime. I’m sure I won’t make such a big stupid mistake again.

  “We had a good time together. Right, Baxter?”

  He jumped up and licked me, so I guess it was okay to say that.

  “My in-laws were driving me nuts, so I talked Bob into coming back early. Fortunately for me, he hates to drive at night. I mean, today it was fortunate. Some nights it’s a pain.”

  “Can I feed him? Baxter, I mean. Not Mr. Dahlin.”

  “Sure. But if you gave him too many treats, I’m gonna be able to tell.”

  “I didn’t. I swear.”

  I said good-bye to Baxter. I offered to give Mrs. Dahlin some of the fifty dollars back because she came home early. She wouldn’t take it.

  I still feel bad that I forgot about Baxter yesterday, and getting paid for doing a bad job makes it even worse.

  When I got home, I looked up the address of the animal shelter in my town. I’m going to give them the money. I thought about keeping half of it, because I did my job right most of the time, but I think for this kind of job you shouldn’t get paid unless you do it right all of the time.

  Okay. The Dahlins are home. Baxter is fine. I can get back to work on my career.

  Hank Hollywood is officially trying to steal my big idea. Here are the facts:

  He figured out where I live and had someone call my school to check.

  He sent a pretty girl to my school to find out what the idea is.

  He got a magazine his company owns to do an interview with me to trick me into telling them my idea.

  He could have just written back to Dan Welch and set up a meeting with me and asked me what my idea is. But if he asks me and I tell him, he has to pay me. That’s why he keeps trying to find out other ways. I think.