Running Out Of Time

Make It Shine

This was Anthony's first big moment as dance captain. He needed to find Daria and make sure she was okay. He would've never expected this outcome – but here they were.

Just outside the building, he finally spotted her. Daria was alone, sitting on the cold pavement with her head buried tightly in her lap. He paused, gathering his thoughts, then slowly approached and sat beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them.

For a moment, he simply sat, waiting, hoping she'd feel his presence and find comfort in it – enough to make her open up. But the silence stretched, unbroken, and his mind started to race. He needed to fix this, as soon as he could.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle and warm. When she didn't respond, he felt his stomach twist, but he pushed on, afraid silence would mean he'd failed her as a leader. "I'm here if you need to talk," he added, his voice softer but edged with an anxious need to make things right.

Still, she didn't answer. Daria's head stayed down; her soft sobs barely audible but clear enough to hear how deeply upset she was. Anthony felt the pressure to help rising within him - He couldn't just sit back and let her shut down.

he had to do something.

"I just want to know what happened in there. I'm sure I can help," he said, leaning forward slightly, as if his own urgency could somehow bridge the distance formed between them. At this, she shifted, but her head remained down. "I... I can't," she whispered, her voice brittle and raw.

"Why?" he pressed, his own frustration slipping into his tone. He wanted to sound comforting, to be someone she could rely on, but it came out too intense, too eager. "I'm sure that we can work this out, trust me." But Daria shook her head, barely lifting it from her knees. "Please... just leave me alone," she murmured, her voice soft but pleading.

A pang of helplessness hit him. Part of him wanted to say something else, to find some magical, comforting phrase that would somehow make this right. But he realized that whatever she needed, it wasn't him right now.

Anthony's frustration carried into the next morning as he walked into the office, head buzzing with self-doubt. The studio owners awaited him, their arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Their faces made it clear they were unimpressed by last night's incident. It wasn't just that Daria's meltdown had disrupted the exercise — no, it was that Anthony's ability as dance captain was under their microscope, and he could feel their doubt in the way they barely made eye contact.

"Well, that's not exactly the start we expected." Michelle said, her voice clipped. He tried to hide the sinking feeling in his stomach, nodding instead. "Yeah, it really was... unexpected," he replied, choosing his words carefully as he fidgeted with his hands.

The critique still echoed as the conversation shifted to the real reason they were here: the regionals guide had just arrived, and the sheer amount of new information was quite overwhelming. He skimmed through the pages, each new clause feeling like another weight. "I never knew they had that many rules..." he muttered, eyebrows pinching as he turned the pages.

Michelle, standing with her arms crossed, gave a half-smile that barely masked her impatience. "Better get to it, then." Her tone was smug, as if she was counting down the days until someone much better-suited would step in.

She left the office with a purposeful stride, leaving him only with his crushing anxieties. Surprisingly, Eldon's hand landed on his shoulder, heavy but reassuring. "I know this seems like a lot," Eldon offered, his voice calm, "You got this."

And now, Anthony was alone with the guide, feeling as if he was actually drowning in this paperwork. He let out a long breath, rubbing his temples, but the pressure only built up more.