Lila hugged her knees against her chest, resting her chin there.
The swing barely moved now, swaying gently in the cool evening breeze.
Lila:
(softly)
"Sometimes I wonder…
if I left now, would it even matter?"
Calen watched her carefully.
Calen:
(gently)
"Matter to who?"
Lila shrugged, a brittle laugh escaping her lips.
Lila:
"The kids.
The town.
Myself."
Calen:
"It would matter.
It just might matter differently."
She looked at him, frowning slightly.
Lila:
"Differently?"
Calen nodded.
Calen:
"You taught them how to dream.
If you leave to chase your own dream…
that's another lesson."
Lila blinked, as if seeing it from a new angle.
Calen:
(softly)
"That it's never too late to be who you're meant to be."
She swallowed thickly, the words catching in her throat.
The idea terrified her.
The idea thrilled her.
The idea felt too big to hold.
Lila:
(whispering)
"I don't even know if I'm still good enough."
Calen tilted his head.
Calen:
"What does 'good enough' mean, anyway?"
Lila:
(broken laugh)
"Good enough to make it.
Good enough to matter."
Calen glanced down at the lantern, its flame small but defiant.
Calen:
"Maybe the point isn't to 'make it.'
Maybe it's just…
to burn.
To create.
Even if no one ever sees."
He paused.
Calen:
"Maybe the flame itself is enough."
Lila stared at him, her eyes bright with something fragile and dangerous —
something she had buried years ago when life became too loud, too demanding.
Hope.
The swing creaked again as she pushed off lightly with her feet, moving a little faster now.
Testing the air.
Lila:
(smiling shakily)
"You make it sound simple."
Calen:
(smiling back)
"It's not.
It's messy.
It's scary.
It hurts."
Lila:
"Great.
Sounds like a blast."
Calen chuckled softly.
Calen:
"It's also worth it."
They swung together for a while in silence, the stars spinning overhead, the river murmuring secrets along its banks.
Finally, Lila spoke again.
Lila:
"If I tried again…
I don't even know where I'd start."
Calen:
(softly)
"Start small."
He looked out at the empty playground.
Calen:
"One sketch.
One painting.
One thing…
just for you."
Lila breathed out slowly, as if letting go of something she'd been holding too tightly for too long.
Lila:
"Not for a gallery.
Not for approval."
Calen:
"Just for the girl who still wants to see the world in color."
Lila wiped her eyes quickly, embarrassed.
Lila:
"God, you're…
you're like a walking fortune cookie."
Calen laughed quietly.
Calen:
"Maybe.
Or maybe just someone who got tired of walking in the dark alone."
The swings slowed again, the chains groaning softly.
Lila kicked at the gravel, staring down at her sneakers.
Lila:
(whispering)
"It's so hard.
Choosing yourself."
Calen nodded.
Calen:
"It is.
But choosing to stay trapped…
that's hard too."
Lila:
(voice breaking)
"I'm so scared I'll regret it.
Either way."
Calen's voice was soft but steady.
Calen:
"Regret is heavy.
But it's lighter than a life unlived."
Lila sat still for a long time after that, the words hanging around them like mist.
Slowly, she pressed her palms against her thighs and pushed herself up from the swing.
She brushed off the dust and looked toward the river, its dark waters glinting under the starlight.
Lila:
(softly)
"Maybe…
maybe it's time to choose."
Calen stood too, the lantern's soft glow catching the edges of her silhouette.
Calen:
"Maybe it always was."
Lila gave a shaky laugh.
Lila:
"You say that like it's easy."
Calen:
(gentle)
"It's not.
But sometimes…
it's harder to stay the same."
She nodded slowly, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her satchel.
Lila:
"I still love teaching, you know.
I love seeing their faces light up when they create something.
I just…
I don't want to forget how it felt to dream for myself."
Calen stepped closer, the lantern casting a circle of soft, stubborn light between them.
Calen:
"Then don't.
Carry both."
Lila's eyebrows knitted together.
Lila:
"Both?"
Calen:
"The love you give to them.
And the love you owe yourself."
She swallowed hard, emotions warring across her face.
Lila:
(whispering)
"Is that even possible?"
Calen:
(quietly)
"It has to be.
Otherwise, none of us would ever get anywhere."
A soft breeze stirred the grass around them.
The scent of riverwater and evening blossoms filled the air.
Lila wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse.
Lila:
(half-laughing)
"You're a strange kid, Calen."
Calen:
(smiling)
"They keep telling me that."
She laughed again, freer this time.
It wasn't the laugh of someone who was suddenly healed.
It was the laugh of someone who finally believed it might be okay to try.
They walked slowly toward the road together, the swingset creaking gently behind them as the breeze caught it.
At the gate of the schoolyard, Lila stopped.
Lila:
(softly)
"I think I'm gonna paint again."
Calen turned to her.
Calen:
"Good."
Lila:
"Even if it's bad."
Calen:
"Especially if it's bad."
She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.
Lila:
(smiling through tears)
"Thank you."
Calen:
(quiet)
"You don't owe me anything."
Lila:
(shaking her head)
"Still.
Thank you for carrying a little light for me."
Calen adjusted the strap of his lantern and offered her a small nod.
Calen:
"Just keep carrying it forward."
She stepped back, watching him as he turned onto the dusty road leading out of town.
Lila:
(calling after him)
"Hey, Lantern Boy?"
Calen paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
Lila:
"If you ever need someone to paint you a new dream…
come find me."
Calen smiled — a real one, full and warm.
Calen:
"I will."
And then he was walking again,
the lantern swinging gently at his side,
a small defiant flame against the sprawling night.
Lila stood there long after he had disappeared.
The stars bloomed above her, scattered like paint across the canvas of the sky.
She reached into her satchel and pulled out an old, folded piece of paper —
a sketch she had drawn years ago and tucked away, too ashamed to show anyone.
She unfolded it carefully.
It was rough, clumsy.
But it was hers.
She smiled through her tears.
And somewhere deep inside her chest,
the girl she used to be
stirred from her long sleep and stretched toward the light.