"Nothing you accomplish matters anyway So all that really counts is how you live today"
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1998
"Who are you?"
Rosalind looked up from the book she was reading. There was a boy standing in the doorway. He looked her age, maybe a year older.
"I'm waiting for my dad." She replied, kicking her feet. They didn't reach the floor while she sat on the large chair.
"Why are you waiting for your dad in my house?" The boy asked.
"Because he works here." She replied.
The boy tilted his head in confusion. She copied his movements, red curls falling into her eyes. He frowned and straightened up.
"Alfred doesn't have kids." He said.
"Yeah he does," Rosalind replied. "Me."
"Well he never told me that."
"Well maybe he did and you just weren't listening."
The two kids stared at each other for a moment. Rosalind smiled at him, proud of her own joke. She knew that her father worked for a rich family, the Waynes. She knew they had a kid her age. But she couldn't remember his name for the life of her. Granted, she had only been in America for about a week. Of course she didn't know everything. Rosalind hated that. Like most eight year olds, she liked to know everything all the time.
"What's your name?" She asked him.
"Bruce." He replied. "What's yours?"
"Rosalind." She said.
"Rosy-linde?" His face scrunched up.
"Rosalind." She repeated.
"Rose-e-lin." He said.
It was Roslaind's turn to scrunch up her face. Bruce laughed at her.
"You have a weird name," He said.
"You have a weird face!" She exclaimed.
"What are you reading?" He asked, walking over to lean over her chair and peek at her book. She showed him the cover.
"Nancy Drew," She said proudly. "I like mysteries. And she's really cool and smart. I've read almost all of the books with her in it. Do you like to read?"
