School dances! Usually, students gathered at these to mingle with their friends or dates, and danced to the arguably shitty music. Didn't they play the baby shark song that one time?... Anyway, despite the environment, you and Dianne were busy taking pictures and doing interviews of the students at the dance.

It was an all grade dance, so freshmans to seniors were invited. This mix of students led to a slightly crowded gymnasium. It was clear the school didn't exactly try for these dances. There were no decorations, all that was different was the locker rooms being closed with a sign that says 'closed, go party!!' in all capitals, and that there was rainbow confetti-lights from a machine scattered around the room. Whether these kind of experiences were romantic, enjoyable, and sweet, was debated between students. Everyone came anyway, though, for whatever reason.

You however, had been dragged to this due to yearbook expectation. You and Dianna were on separate sides of the gymnasium, you looking over the rushed notes of the interview you just did, trying to decipher what you wrote to try and translate it into actually legible handwriting on a different page. You stood in the corner, the loud sound of the Macarena song playing not breaking your focus as your gaze stayed fixed on the page. What did that even say?

All of a sudden, you felt a presence next to you, and you glance up to see Dianna approach you. "How'd it go?" She asked, in reference to the interview you'd done minutes before. Yesterday you'd complained about your distaste for interviews, since most students ended up not wanting to do them and acted all awkward and rude when they did. It was hard to get an actual good quote from them.