Filming a movie was mostly just waiting around.
For the next few weeks, Donovan spent his days on the Utah set or inside massive soundstages in Los Angeles. He hung out with Jake, Chris, and the rest of the kid actors, playing card games and eating snacks at the catering table. But whenever Evelyn called his name, the playtime instantly stopped.
They were filming inside a replica of the boys' treehouse, built on a soundstage to perfectly control the nighttime lighting. The air was thick with the smell of toasted marshmallows.
"Alright, boys, settle down," Evelyn instructed from behind the camera monitor. "This is the s'mores scene. Patrick, remember your pacing. Donovan, you are completely clueless. Action!"
Patrick, the chubby kid playing Ham Porter, held up a gooey graham cracker sandwich. "Want a s'more?"
Donovan didn't need to force his face into a confused expression. He just let the persona of Scotty Smalls take the wheel. The confidence and intelligence of a billionaire's son completely vanished from his eyes, replaced by the sheltered, innocent blankness of an awkward 1960s kid.
"Some more of what?" Donovan asked, his voice entirely genuine and slightly high-pitched.
"No, no," Patrick said, acting exasperated. "You want a s'more?"
"I haven't had anything yet," Donovan replied, perfectly timing the deadpan, confused delivery. "So how can I have some more of nothing?"
Patrick stared at him, perfectly capturing the disbelief. "You're killing me, Smalls!"
Behind the camera, Evelyn covered her mouth to hide a proud smile. The comedic timing between the kids was absolute gold. Donovan wasn't just reciting lines; he was reacting. He looked so genuinely lost and out of place that the entire crew was silently laughing.
"Cut! Print that, it was perfect," Evelyn called out. "Great job, boys. We're moving to the study set for the final scene."
The mood on the set shifted a few hours later. They were filming the emotional climax of the movie—the scene Donovan had personally suggested fixing in the script. Smalls had to confess to his stern stepdad, played by a veteran actor named Robert, that he had lost the priceless Babe Ruth baseball.
The set was a quiet, dimly lit 1960s home office. Robert was sitting behind a heavy wooden desk.
"This is the heavy one, Donovan," Evelyn said quietly, crouching next to him before they started rolling. "Smalls is terrified. He thinks he just ruined his relationship with his stepdad forever. I need you to show me that fear."
"I got it, Mom," Donovan said softly.
He walked to his mark in front of the desk. He closed his eyes for a brief second.
He didn't pull on magic or ancient cosmic power. He just reached into his deep, flawless understanding of human emotion. He found the feeling of pure, absolute vulnerability—the desperate need of a child wanting to be loved by a parent—and pulled it to the surface.
"Action," Evelyn whispered.
Donovan opened his eyes. He didn't look like Donovan Blackwood anymore. He looked like a child whose entire world was collapsing.
His shoulders were hunched, trembling slightly. He looked up at Robert, his eyes immediately welling up with real, unforced tears. His bottom lip quivered just enough to be visible on the camera monitor.
"I... I lost it," Donovan said. His voice cracked, small and devastated. "I didn't know who signed it. I just wanted to play baseball with the guys. I'm so sorry."
Robert, a veteran actor with decades of experience, actually paused. He was supposed to immediately deliver his angry line, but the raw, heartbreaking emotion coming from the ten-year-old kid in front of him caught him completely off guard. It was so real that Robert's own instinct to comfort a crying child almost broke his character.
Robert quickly recovered, leaning forward with a stern, heavy sigh. "You lost a ball signed by Babe Ruth?"
A single tear rolled down Donovan's cheek. He nodded slowly, looking down at his worn-out sneakers, the absolute picture of shame and regret.
"Cut!" Evelyn yelled. Her voice sounded a little thick.
The heavy silence in the studio broke. The camera crew let out a collective breath they didn't realize they were holding.
Donovan immediately stood up straight. He wiped the single tear from his cheek with the back of his sleeve, gave Robert a polite smile, and walked over to the catering table to grab a juice box. The devastated, heartbroken kid was completely gone, replaced by a thirsty ten-year-old.
Robert stared at him, walking over to Evelyn at the monitors.
"Evelyn," Robert whispered, watching the playback of the scene. "I've worked with child actors for thirty years. I've never seen anyone just... turn it on and off like that. Usually, they have to think about a dead pet for an hour just to cry."
"He's special," Evelyn said softly, watching her son casually drinking apple juice with Jake and Chris. A wave of immense pride washed over her.
Donovan didn't care about the whispers from the crew. He was just doing his job. He knew the movie was going to be a massive hit, and his performance was going to put his name on the map in Hollywood.
But as he finished his juice box, he looked at the calendar hanging on the soundstage wall.
It was almost time. The animation was finished. The voice acting was mixed.
*One Piece* was about to premiere.