Never Stopped Smiling
Chapter 11 The spaces between words
"There are truths," Ms. Parker said, pacing in front of the stage, her heels clicking on the wooden floor, "that can't survive outside a lie. That's what theater is—safe truth."
The drama room was warmer than usual, sunbeams slanting through the windows and painting gold across the linoleum. Dust hung in the light like snowfall. The class was seated in a loose circle, scripts in hand, but only one person wasn't flipping pages.
David's eyes weren't on his lines. They were on Amelia.
She was angled slightly away from the rest of the group, legs tucked neatly under her chair, that same soft, almost weightless smile carved into her face. It was a smile that didn't belong to the present—it looked borrowed from a memory she refused to let go of. It never cracked. Never slipped. Like porcelain.
Ms. Parker clapped once, snapping them out of the quiet lull.
"Amelia. David. Scene six."
He blinked. "Us?"
"Now." Her tone left no room for negotiation. "Let the silence guide you."
David stood, awkwardly brushing dust off his jeans, script held like a shield. Amelia followed a second later, calm and effortless, her pages curled at the edges, thumb stained faintly with graphite.
They stood at center stage. No marks. No direction. Just space—and all the things they hadn't said.
David read first.
"You don't have to pretend you're okay."
The silence after it wasn't scripted.
Amelia's lips twitched. She didn't look up from the page. "I'm not pretending."
"Then smile like you mean it."
He hadn't meant to say it that way. It came out too fast. Too real. The line sat there between them, brittle and heavy.
Her smile didn't fade—but it paused. Just long enough to break something in him.
"That's enough," Ms. Parker said from behind them. "Sit. Keep that tension. We'll revisit this next week."
They returned to their seats without a word. David sat forward, elbows on knees, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his page.
He didn't look at Amelia again until class ended.
She was already packing up, smooth and practiced. Like none of it had touched her.
He caught up with her in the hallway.
"I wasn't trying to—"
"I know," she said.
She didn't stop walking.
"I just meant… You don't have to be okay all the time."
Amelia adjusted the strap of her backpack. "I never said I was."
He opened his mouth to say something else but didn't. There was a lump in his throat that hadn't been there before.
She turned at the end of the hallway and smiled over her shoulder.
"See you tomorrow, David."
It was the same smile she always wore.
But for the first time, he hated it.
The next day, during lunch, David found her sitting by the steps near the side of the auditorium, sketchbook on her lap, half-finished lines scrawled in charcoal. A tree, maybe. Or a crack in something.
He stood near her for a few seconds before sitting down, leaving space between them.
"You're late," she said without looking up.
"Didn't know we had a meeting."
"We don't."
He pulled out a granola bar and held it out.
She looked at it, then at him, expression unreadable.
"I'm not hungry."
"You never are."
"I'm not lying."
"I know."
He broke the bar in half and placed one piece between them. She didn't touch it, but she didn't push it away either.
They sat there in silence, the kind that wasn't awkward but careful. Like both of them were afraid words would make everything worse.
Amelia finally spoke.
"Why do you keep trying?"
David tilted his head. "Trying what?"
"To figure me out."
He hesitated. "Because you're not a puzzle. You're a person pretending to be one."
She didn't smile at that. Not fully. Just looked down at her sketchbook and began to draw again. The pencil moved slower this time.
"You're weird," she said.
"You're worse."
That got a laugh out of her. Quiet. Real.
He memorized the sound.
They stayed like that until the bell rang.
After school, the hallway outside the drama room was mostly empty. Ms. Parker was locking the door when she saw them walking by together.
"You two have something," she said without turning. "On stage. Off stage. Doesn't matter. Use it."
David raised an eyebrow. "Use what?"
She turned to look at them. "Whatever's making you both lie less when you're pretending."
Amelia didn't say anything. Just lowered her head and kept walking.
David lingered for a second.
"What if we're not pretending?"
Ms. Parker gave him a tired smile. "Then don't wait for the final act to say something real."
That night, David opened his journal. Not a school one. A real one. The kind you don't show people.
She smiled again today. Not for the world. For me. Or maybe because of me. That's enough.
He closed the notebook without signing it. He always left the last page blank.
He liked the idea of something unfinished.
Elsewhere, in her bedroom, Amelia stood in front of the mirror. Still in her uniform, hair half tied up. She stared at her reflection for a long time, like she was trying to catch herself lying.
She touched her lips. Tried to drop the smile. It wouldn't leave.
She turned off the light, got into bed, and scribbled a few lines in her own journal.
He looked at me like he saw something I forgot was there. That's dangerous.
She didn't sign her name either.
But she folded the corner of the page.