Chapter 12 – The Lines We Miss
Never Stopped Smiling
The auditorium was cold that morning, like the stage had forgotten summer existed.
Students drifted in lazily, carrying coffees and slumped shoulders, scripts dog-eared and half-highlighted. Ms. Parker stood at the edge of the stage with her arms crossed, watching everyone the way storms watch coastlines—silent, but full of intent.
Amelia came in late.
David noticed the moment she walked through the side door. Her steps were slower than usual, like she was trying to make each one count. Her backpack hung looser, shoulder slipping beneath the strap every few steps. She gave a small wave to Ms. Parker and sat at the edge of the front row, eyes cast down.
He sat next to her without a word.
She didn't smile.
He didn't say anything.
The moment sat between them, tense and quiet, until Ms. Parker clapped once and barked, "Let's run the monologue scenes. Amelia, you're up."
There was a flicker in her face—something uncertain. She stood, script in hand, walked to center stage. The spotlight wasn't on, but she looked like she was already under it.
She started the monologue. Her voice, at first, was steady, if a little too light.
"You left the room before I could say it. Like silence was the better ending."
The words were beautiful. But they were weightless. Memorized, not lived.
David frowned. Something was off.
Amelia's hand trembled slightly as she turned the page. Her breath hitched—not from nerves, but like her lungs couldn't quite keep up.
Her next words came out thinner. Less certain.
"I thought if I smiled long enough, I'd stop wanting to scream. I thought—"
She stopped.
The room stayed still.
Ms. Parker didn't interrupt. She was studying Amelia closely now, the way one watches someone balancing on a fraying rope.
Amelia cleared her throat, looked down, then tried again. "I thought if I—if I—"
The words collapsed inside her. She went quiet.
David stood up before he could talk himself out of it. "That's enough."
Ms. Parker raised a brow. "You don't get to call cut, David."
"She needs a break."
The class murmured. Amelia was still standing on stage, shoulders drawn in, lips pressed together like she was biting something back. She wasn't crying. But her eyes didn't shine the way they usually did under the lights.
Ms. Parker nodded once. "Ten-minute break."
Amelia stepped down slowly and walked past David without looking at him. She slipped through the back door of the auditorium, into the hallway.
He followed.
She was leaning against the locker near the vending machines, breathing slowly. Her hands were clutched around the edge of her sweater like she was holding herself together.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she replied too fast.
"You didn't sound fine."
"I just forgot a line."
David shook his head. "No, you didn't."
She looked up at him. "Why do you care so much?"
"Because I know what it looks like when someone's pretending not to fall apart."
That shut her up. For a few seconds.
"Do I look like I'm falling apart?"
"No. But you sound like it."
She smiled faintly. But it wasn't the smile he hated—it wasn't the mask. This one cracked at the edge, like it barely held.
"You ever wish people wouldn't ask if you're okay?"
"All the time," he said.
They stood there for a while. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both knew something had shifted.
She turned away first. "I'll be better tomorrow."
He didn't believe it.
He nodded anyway.
Later that day, David went to the library to return a book, and as he passed the nurse's office, he saw Amelia inside through the cracked door.
She was sitting on the little cot, sweater off, arms pale and trembling. The nurse was taking her blood pressure, saying something David couldn't hear.
He ducked back before anyone noticed. He stood there in the hallway, heart beating too loud in his chest.
He didn't ask her about it the next day.
But she didn't sit next to him either.
Something was unraveling. Slowly. Quietly.
And he had no idea how to catch it.