Chapter 11 — Theater at the End of the Hallway

Mr. Quang's editing room is located behind the library, with windows overlooking the football field. The teacher gave the group an old computer, two hard drives and a rule: every original must have two copies, one must not be connected to the network.

Lam sat in front of the screen, cutting interview segments. She found that she often kept controversial sentences because she thought they would make the video more attractive. Tran asked her to review each paragraph and ask if the speaker agreed with that cut.

“If we remove this sentence, the film will be less dramatic,” Lam said.

“But if we keep it, viewers will misunderstand Ms. My.”

“So we have to choose between attractive and right?”

"No. It must be built so that both exist."

Huy sat on the floor, fixing the backup projector. He heard the sound of the interview, occasionally writing a number in the book. Vy combines the sounds of brooms, wheels, and shoes on the background. Quan made nameplates for the characters, but mistakenly wrote "Uncle Sau" as "Uncle Sau Sau", then hid the pen.

Lam sets up the opening with the image of an empty hallway. She does not use music, only the sound of footsteps. When the theater door appeared, the words "Don't let the last scene be cut" appeared briefly, then disappeared.

Huy looked at the screen. “Don't use that line.”

“It's a theater question.”

“It might make people think this is a ghost story.”

“But viewers will be curious.”

"Curiosity is not the reason to drag them into Nhi's story."

Lam closes the laptop. The two were silent. She knows Huy is right but doesn't like being reminded right when she's trying to do well.

Teacher Quang gave them the theater's safety regulations. Chairs must be at least forty centimeters apart, exits must not be blocked, and the projector must be staffed. Huy marks items that can be edited within nine days. Tran contacted the school board to borrow a new fire extinguisher. Quan set up a volunteer registration table.

A group of tenth grade students came to ask if they needed help. Lam discovered that many people knew about the theater only through rumors. She showed them the unfinished film, but asked not to take screenshots. After the viewing, a friend named Duy suggested making subtitles for the hearing impaired.

Vy immediately agreed. She said sound should not be a door that is only open for the person to hear clearly. Huy looked for old speakers, Quan asked for fabric to make signage. Small tasks make planning less like a war and more like a school activity.

Dat sent an email asking the group to submit an estimate. He didn't say it was forbidden, just asked if they had included long-term maintenance costs. Tran answered with a data table. Lam wanted to write a sarcastic sentence but deleted it.

“You are growing up,” Quan said.

“I just deleted bad sentences.”

“It's the painless version of growing up.”

In the evening, Hoai An watched the rendering. Mom asked to stop at Uncle Sau's scene and said that part was enough for people to understand the importance of theater. Lam asked if they should use Nhi's scene.

“Only if you have her consent.”

“What if we can't find her?”

"Don't use it. There are things that are right but don't belong to me."

Lam wrote that sentence at the beginning of the notebook. Huy heard it, looked at her for a moment and then said: "So you understand why I don't want to be on camera."

“I understand better.”

“There is no need to understand everything.”

“But I'll ask first.”

Huy nodded. He gave Lam a memory card. "This is a theatrical sound version. Don't post it before listening to it with Vy."

The first day ended, the group checked the countdown board. Eight days left. On fabric screens, the projector does not turn on automatically anymore. But in the corner of the green chair, someone placed a new ticket, The movie name is not printed, only one word is printed: **A**.

The ticket was discovered by Duc Minh, the new student in charge of carpentry. He didn't touch it but called Tran, causing Quan to say the procedure was in effect. Tran took photos from four angles, wrote down the time and then put the ticket in a paper bag.

Lam asked who could book tickets. Theater door cameras only record registered people, no strangers. Maybe the ticket holder knows exit A or knows the old lock code. Teacher Quang called the retired security guard. He said that in the past, students often went through the back door with a spare key hidden in the editing room.

Huy checked the editing room and found an old keyhole at the foot of the cabinet. No key left, but has new metal markings. He did not open the cabinet, waiting for someone with authority. Dat brought the locker file and confirmed that the locker belonged to the school.

They opened the cabinet in front of three witnesses. Inside was an old video camera, a box of labels and a roll of green wire. The camcorder has no battery, but the lens is still clean. On the strap is the letter "A" sewn with purple thread.

Hoai An recognized Khai's device. She said Khai once let Nhi use it to spin the ball. Lam asked if the camera had a final scene. Mom replied that they could, but they would need to ask the person who held the rights to the film.

Tuan sent technical records, confirming that film roll 27 had been removed from the machine. No one knows where the rest are. The group does not speculate on the taker. They just make a list of places that have been checked and places that cannot be checked yet.

Mr. Quang asked Lam to talk to the class about the rumors that were spreading. She stood in front of the board, telling them they had clues but no conclusion. She reminded students not to search for Nhi's name online, not to send old photos to the group, and not to enter the theater without registering.

One friend asked what if someone had posted the video before. Lam replied, please report, don't reshare. The answer didn't make her famous, but it made the classroom quieter.

In the evening, Huy tried an old camcorder with a temporary source. It worked for a few seconds, projecting an open door onto the screen. Then the machine turns off. The frame has no people, only a green umbrella placed in the corner.

Lam does not save images. She asked Mr. Quang if he could use it. He said only after determining the owner of the device and the image rights. She wrote it down on her to-do list, even though the group was short on time.

Huy asked Hoai An if he could check the old camera. Lam's mother agreed but advised not to leave the power on for too long because the film reel inside might get stuck. Huy removed the cover, used a soft brush to clean the dust, and discovered a small piece of paper behind the battery: "A-27 is not a seat number."

Lam asked Mr. Quang about the symbol. The teacher said the number could be the order of the scene, or the date. No one guessed. Tran sent a photo of the piece of paper to Ha, she replied that Nhi once called the door opening scene scene 27, not chair 27.

The group created a board to differentiate between evidence and stories. The piece of paper is in the evidence column; Ha's comments in the narration column; Unconfirmed items are booked separately. Quan drew a red border around the unknown column, saying it looked like a no-seats area.

Lam sees them as making a movie but at the same time making a lesson in how to believe. This lesson is not easy to film, but it can save theaters from hasty stories.

Tran suggested putting the evidence classification part behind the scenes, but Lam was afraid the film would turn into a lecture. They tried with a picture of three colored boxes: it works, needs to ask again, just saves. The viewer does not need to hear the entire process, but sees hands carefully placing each thing in the right place.

Huy said they could add the sound of the box opening, Quan added the sound of a chair being pulled, Vy joined the rhythm. Lam looked again and saw that seriousness could still be beautiful if not painted too brightly.

To avoid turning the sound into makeup, Vy suggested that the group do a "blind listening" session. They turned off the monitors, listened to each record, and put their feelings on paper. The song has fast-paced music that makes Quan feel like someone is about to jump out of the closet. The village only has the sound of chairs, making Tran miss the club activities. The sound of the door opening and then stopping made Huy think of a person considering whether to enter or not. Lam chose the third version, but kept a very small laugh from Quan because it made the room more like a school.

Huy also suggested recording the sound of the projector at startup, but did not use it entirely. He placed the microphone near the case, away from the fan, and asked Lam to count from one to ten. When heard again, the squeaking sound turned into mechanical breathing. Lam asked if Huy's name could be written in the audio. You saying the group name is enough. Tran still added the section "sound technician: Gia Huy" after he agreed. Quan teased that the credits roll will be longer than the movie. Vy replied that at least everyone knows who did what.

Lam tried writing an introduction, then deleted most of it. Sentences like “this place holds thousands of dreams” sound too big compared to a room with three light bulbs. She replaced it with details: "This chair has been repaired four times. Some people still choose to sit in it." Tran likes that way of telling it because viewers can verify it. Quan asked if he needed to tell someone to fix the chair. Huy replied that his name was in the book, anyone who was curious could ask.

Vy added a black space between the two scenes. Lam was worried the audience would leave, but the preview showed that everyone used that space to breathe. One person said that when the screen went dark, you could hear the sound of the person next to you laughing softly and felt like you weren't watching alone. Quan immediately asked to write down that sentence, then stopped to ask the speaker. You agree to use anonymity in the report, not in the film. Lam notes usage rights and places quotes in separate folders. The group learns to let their emotions exist without becoming property of the film.