Dancing in the Dark ✓

02 | theo

I loved talking to people. 

Okay, I had times where I needed space away from civilisation, but the potential of learning about someone's unique story fascinated me. And as class president, I made it a point to talk to as many people as I could to make sure that school, for the most part, was going okay. 

Sasha Li was one of the few ones I had yet to get through to. Standing at about only five feet tall, with her black hair framing her face, it was easy to overlook her — only one wouldn't really forget that quiet confidence that surrounded her like a shield.

I had occasionally seen her performing with the school dance team for events and musicals, but besides that and having MUN together, our paths didn't cross much as she was in the science stream whilst I was in the arts. The first time we had even spoken was a few months ago, when Leilani had introduced us. It was understandable she wasn't joining the musical this year though — Grade 12 was the crucial period of our lives. Even I had to sacrifice the time spent on filming.

It was a dream of mine to direct films — documentaries, in particular — and that started with winning that inter-high school film festival.

That realisation snapped me out of my thoughts, and I made a sharp turn to the right, towards the office of my film teacher. As soon as I knocked on the door and opened it, though, I knew that I was in trouble. He was seated at his desk, squinting at his computer screen, with a notepad and pen in his hands. Every few seconds, he would pause the video that was playing, scribble something down, and then resume in thoughtful watching.

This was one of those times you did not interrupt Mr.Hórvath.

Knowing what would come my way if I tried to grab his attention, I plopped down on the sofa right next to the door instead. I noticed that there were multiple pencils scattered across the floor, including the pencil holder itself. I sighed, bent over and retrieved the items, and set them onto the desk once more. Mr.Hórvath must have been so engrossed in his work that he didn't even notice that he had knocked stuff over.

After about ten minutes, Mr.Hórvath finally took a break from his screen and cut his accusing gaze to me. "What?"

I nearly skipped towards the seat opposite his desk. "Good morning to you too, Mr.Hórvath."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at me. "The morning coffee hasn't kicked in yet. Do you have your script ready?"

I reached into my backpack and pulled out a few sheets of paper. "Here, I wrote it myself."

He took the papers warily and put on his reading glasses. It was a long time before Mr.Hórvath glanced up at me from the script in his hands, his thick eyebrows knitted together. 

"So?" I leaned forward eagerly. "What do you think?"

He cleared his throat. "The film festival is in six months."

"That's why I finished the script as quickly as I could. You know that I have a great crew too, we can pull this off. We did place in the top three winners the previous two years."

"You said that you wrote this yourself, didn't you?"

I nodded enthusiastically.

He leaned back into his chair. "I don't know how to break it to you, Theo, so I'm just going to say it as it is. There's no doubt that you've proven yourself to be an outstanding director as well as writer, with lots of potential, and you definitely have an eye for detail—"

"Why, thank you."

"But, you've probably just produced your worst work yet."

Ouch. "Well, sir, this year's theme is kind of hard."