I Represent Sean Rosen by Jeff Baron

partially Jewish. What I didn’t want was the whole thing of everyone acting a whole lot nicer to you than usual. Everyone. Relatives you don’t really know, friends of your parents you don’t even like, and all these kids suddenly paying all this attention to you. Everyone watching you. It’s too weird.
    After dinner, I went up to my bedroom and slid under my bed. There’s a space between the rug and the mattress where it’s dark and you have to lie flat. It’s a good place to think. I think I should go downstairs and apologize.
    When I got to the top of the stairs, my mom was on the bottom, on her way up. We both stopped and looked at each other. Who was going to go first?
    â€œMom . . . I’m sorry. You know . . . about what I said. You know . . . about not going to Jakey’s bar mitzvah.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œI’m gonna go.”
    â€œI know you are. But I have an idea.”
    â€œYou do?”
    â€œYes. Don’t sound so surprised. I just called Aunt Sandy, and it’s okay with them if you want to . . .”
    â€œWhat? Light a candle?”
    â€œNo, Sean. Everyone knows. You hate the candles. She said it’s okay if you do your podcast there.”
    â€œAt the bar mitzvah?”
    She nodded. I walked down to the step where we’re the same height. “Mom . . . You’re a genius.”
    She is. It’s perfect. I immediately had a million ideas for a bar mitzvah podcast. Now I can’t wait.
    We flew to Detroit on Friday. My dad planned it so we would land a half hour before my grandmother (Thorny). That way we’d have time to get the rental car, and when Grandma arrives, we’ll be all ready to go. We’ll drop her at the hotel, then drive to the house where we’re staying with friends of my cousins.
    Unfortunately, my dad is a plumber, not an air traffic controller. Our plane landed a half-hour after Grandma’s.
    When we were finally on the ground, he called her on the phone he made her get. She didn’t answer. We looked in baggage claim, but she wasn’t there. He got the airport to make an announcement, but she didn’t pick up a white courtesy phone. Even if you heard that announcement, what’s a white courtesy phone, and where do you pick it up?
    My mom kept making suggestions, but my dad wasn’t in the mood for suggestions. He decided to get the rental car taken care of. When we got to Budget, Grandma was there renting a car.
    â€œI wasn’t going to wait forever. And frankly, I’d rather have my own car.” Grandma hates the way my dad drives and my dad hates the way Grandma drives.
    â€œNo way. You’re not driving at night. You don’t know Detroit. We don’t need two cars. Why do you never answer your phone?”
    That was the last thing I heard because I put my earbuds in and listened to music until everybody calmed down. It only took two songs. She would never admit it, but I’m sure Grandma is relieved she doesn’t have to drive.
    The podcast kept me busy all weekend, which was good, because I wasn’t thinking about Dan Welch the whole time. Like wondering if Stefanie V. President wrote back to him. Or if she hired an internet detective to find out who he is. Or if the internet detective figured out that it’s me. Or if there’s going to be a police car in front of our house when we get back from Detroit. I guess I did think about all those things, but mostly at night, in bed.
    I didn’t check e-mail the whole time we were there. Our cousins’ friends kept asking me if I wanted to use a computer. They had five computers for four people. I don’t like people to use my computer, so I didn’t use theirs. I don’t want to feel guilty if they ever come to our house.
    At the synagogue, I sat between my dad and Grandma. It’s good to keep those two separated. Every once in a while I recorded part of the service for my