Swimming Through the Dawn

by R. P. Rioux

  Grace's eyes widened. "Who's in it?"

  "They haven't decided yet," interjected Eui from two seats away.

  "Future evaluations will be life or death," said Rose.

  "We can be sure about one, anyway," Eui added with a hint of resentment in her voice.

  "Who?" asked Grace.

  "C'mon. You're her friend."

  "You mean Heather? I'm sure we'll all have a chance."

  "Puh-leeze. Little Miss Perfect is a sure thing. They love her. Don't be coy. I'm sure she'll put in a good word for you."

  "Yeah, you're the best rapper here," said Rose. "They have to pick you."

  The conversation grew too juicy for eavesdroppers to ignore for long. Soon most of those seated in the rear benches were offering assessments on which trainees had the best chance of making the group. Conveniently, they reserved their boldest opinions for those riding in other vans. Grace wondered if their viewpoints would hold if the situation were different. Full line ups were proposed, with each trainee naming anywhere from five to nine candidates who'd comprise the best overall group. Heather's status was abundantly clear. She made every list.

  * * *

  After a late dinner, most of the trainees had settled in to finish their assigned homework for school the next day. Grace went to pay Heather a visit, but her roommates explained she had gone straight to the agency after being dropped off. Despite exhaustion, Grace couldn't wait until morning. Thankfully, the agency was only three blocks away.

  She found the front door locked tight, but a friendly night watchman let her inside. The elevator opened onto a third floor where all rooms were dark except for Studio C. An EDM track was playing from within. Grace cracked the door opened and peered inside.

  Most of the lights in the sleekly-designed, wood-paneled studio were dark. The few that remained on were sufficient for the room's sole occupant. Heather practiced the performance she had been working on all week, facing the one mirrored wall in the studio that didn't provide a direct view of the doorway. The music was loud enough for Grace to enter without being observed. She sat on the floor and waited for the routine to end a minute later.

  "Looking good," Grace said, causing Heather to practically leap from her skin.

  "You scared the life out of me!" she exclaimed, holding her heart. Before she could say anything more, the looped track repeated.

  "How long will you train?" shouted Grace, loud enough to be heard over the music.

  "Why would I need one?"

  "Need what?"

  "It's five minutes away."

  "What is?"

  "Home."

  "That's why I'm asking."

  "I don't need a train," Heather said louder.

  "What train?"

  "I don't know. You asked."

  "I didn't ask about a train. I asked how long you were training."

  "I have no idea how long trains are. Why do you keep asking?"

  Grace was exasperated. She stomped over to the audio rack and shut off the music. "That's driving me up the wall." She turned to see Heather smiling devilishly, and grew suspicious. "Were you doing that on purpose?"

  "The music was loud."

  The prank angered Grace, but Heather's nonchalant reaction exposed the humor in the situation. She calmed herself with a deep breath. "Haven't you practiced enough? It's midnight."

  Heather grabbed a towel off a nearby chair and wiped the sweat off her head before sitting down. "Dancing is not my forte. To stay relevant, I must practice twice as hard."

  "You're already a better dancer than most," Grace said. Heather shrugged off the comment as she chugged water from a bottle. "And you're the best singer by far. Everyone on the ride home talked about you."

  "That's not new."

  "They say you're a lock to make debut."

  "Remember our complacency discussion?"

  "At some point, you have to recognize where you stand, though."

  "If you rest in this business, you become roadkill."

  "You don't seem excited."

  Heather replaced the cap on her water bottle, gathered her belongings, and turned off the audio equipment. "I don't like to dwell on what might happen."

  * * *

  Grace tried to recall the last time she encountered such a jovial atmosphere at the dorm. The trainees looked ecstatic. The kimchi jjigae was precisely what they needed, and Grace was already enjoying seconds. Heather, who had concocted the dish for her roommates, positively glowed at the warm reception her improvised recipe had generated.

  In recent weeks, the dorm's cast of characters had changed regularly. Permanent dismissals came in rapid succession. The process was taking an emotional toll on the surviving hopefuls. To save money on housing, agency policy was to steadily close dorm rooms as the trainee pool shrunk. Survivors were consolidated into fewer and fewer accommodations. The stress of regularly adjusting to new roommates and their living habits made matters worse. Heather had correctly sensed a morale boost was warranted.

  "Did you guys finish your Statistics homework?" asked Rose.

  "We're doing it tonight," said Grace. "Are you joining us, Heather?"

  "I have to finish my song."

  "What's the rush? They never use our songs," said Rose.

  "I want it ready, in any case." Heather had often shared her feelings on the matter. The agency's practice of assigning songs instead of encouraging latent songwriting skills irked her. The new group would need music, and she aimed to fill it.

  * * *

  Gathered along one wall of the assembly hall, ten survivors worried for their friends. Three of their peers stood in the center of the room, facing producers, heads hung in shame. Everyone knew what was coming. Soon, two would be dismissed forever.

  Grace's evaluation had not gone well, but she remained stoic, ready to meet her fate. Rose, a singer, to her left, failed to stifle tears as she waited. Eui, the dancer, was silent but grasped her right wrist so tightly as to restrict blood flow.

  "The others are ahead of you," Creative Director Park Jee stated. "Are you content with falling behind?"

  "No," the three answered in unison.

  "There's little time left. Your lack of effort is disappointing. Perhaps you're not cut out for this business."

  "We are," they responded in unison.

  Park Jee huddled with the other managers, whispering in conference. Occasionally one or another assessed the trio before making an indiscernible point to the others. The wait was excruciating. Finally, their meeting disbanded.

  Director Park stood and faced them again. "Grace, step forward." She winced, but this alone meant little. The producers rarely handled dismissals the same way twice. However, if he called a second person forward, it was a sure sign her K-pop career was over. Another interminable pause passed in silence. "Rose and Eui, thank you for your service. We wish you the best in your future endeavors."

  Before he could finish his farewell, Rose collapsed to her knees. "No! How could you?" she cried. She lowered her face to the floor and buried her head in her arms. Eui bent over and sobbed heavily. Eleven remained. The ten survivors along the wall rushed forward to comfort those dismissed. Heather's tight embrace prevented Grace's wobbly knees from giving out.

  4

  Heather

  As tough as it had been to say goodbye to scores of classmates over the past month, that morning's announcement floored the remaining candidates. After drastically whittling away the pool in preparation for debut, the agency was now introducing a twelfth aspirant. Nae Mi-ok was a singer, recently displaced from a bankrupt agency. The company's decision to add her at this late stage struck Heather as cruel.

  Mi-ok's visage was unique. Statuesque, with a long face and broad mouth, she possessed a vaguely masculine form of expression that reminded Heather of David Bowie. They didn't look alike at all but shared certain mannerisms. She stared at the newcomer in disbelief. When it was her turn to be introduced, she offered a graceful smile but was, in fact, shaken
to the core. Mi-ok looked right through her, exuding a level of confidence that was intimidating. She seemed to innately sense Heather's status and appeared willing to challenge it from the get-go.

  Mi-ok's initial performance failed to ease Heather's qualms. While her voice was not so powerful, she had impressive sustain and a bewitching presence. The trainees applauded with genuine admiration. It became clear to all. Heather no longer held unquestioned pre-eminence within the group. This unexpected development, on the cusp of debut, was deeply unsettling.

  * * *

  The rooftop terrace at 37-G afforded a commanding view of the Sinsa-dong neighborhood. Below, the multilegged Hannam Bridge languorously stretched across the Han River like a centipede. When the stresses of life accumulated, this was Heather's favorite refuge. Her peers rarely ventured onto the roof. She didn't understand why. The landscaping was prim, if not extravagant. Apart from the dull roar of traffic from nearby Olympic-daero, the deck was also quiet.

  On this day, before she could set her belongings on a chaise lounge, a sustained honking from the street piqued her interest. This was followed by enraged shouting and threats of intimidation. Curious, she approached the railing and leaned over to watch a parking confrontation develop seven stories below. A delivery driver had blocked the entrance to a garage and was taking heat from an irate resident. Eventually, cooler heads prevailed, and the rivals parted ways without further fuss.

  "Usually, trainees wait until after they're cut to jump." The unexpected voice caused Heather's head to jerk back. Muscles tensed when she saw Mi-ok assessing her from the chaise she had intended to occupy moments earlier. The girl seemingly had materialized from thin air.

  "I heard noise is all," Heather explained, using her hands to indicate the street.

  "I wouldn't blame you. The pressure gets to people."

  Resisting the temptation to flee, she said, "It's not what you think. Really."

  "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. Okay?"

  Heather's body flushed with heat. "Who mentioned anything about secrets?"

  Mi-ok nonchalantly smiled and held up a soda can. "I have an extra if you want. Sit down." Nothing shook the girl. Hoping to gain insight on an adversary, Heather accepted the offering.

  "Started performing in third grade," Mi-ok recited. "By middle school sang lead in Alice in Wonderland earning plaudits from classmates and teachers. Moved to Korea at age 13. Trained for three years at 37-G. First and only winner of the Three Bowl Challenge. Did I leave anything out?"

  "Are you angling to be a historian?"

  "No, but you can use me as a reference if you'd like."

  Heather blinked. "I won't need references where I'm going."

  "True. That'd be overkill."

  The skin on Heather's face tightened, causing her mouth to curl into a smirk. She took a glug of cola, wishing it was spiked. "Is this how you win friends and influence people?"

  "They say I'm difficult. So why bother? Is it my fault others can't keep up?"

  "That's one dysfunctional attitude."

  "Da-som told me you'd say that. Always putting the team ahead of self. How noble. How…cute." Mi-ok wrinkled her nose as she said this. "Truthfully, being hated used to bother me. I'd cry myself to sleep at night, dreading what each new day would bring. But you know what? I learned to turn contempt to my advantage. Now it motivates me."

  "Sounds lonely."

  "I'm too busy watching others cry these days to care much."

  Heather placed the half-empty can on the pavement next to the lounger. "It used to bother me when I received more attention than the others."

  "But not anymore?"

  "I help them. I don't want to be their enemy."

  "They're competition. Why concern yourself with inferiors?"

  "Nobody succeeds in a void."

  Mi-ok waved her hand in the air as though shooing a gnat. "Word of advice. Always keep climbing, or soon you'll find a knife in your back."

  "That's a grim view."

  "Is it? You're almost there yourself, I'd bet."

  "I doubt that."

  Mi-ok took another swallow of soda. Her steady gaze stung like lasers. "We're more alike than you think."

  "Why would you say that?"

  "We'd both be lost if it weren't for this."

  Heather nodded with a blank expression.

  "The difference is," Mi-ok continued, "I'm a survivor. Are you?"

  * * *

  "You sure this is a good idea?" asked Grace upon hearing the plan.

  "I need a competitive edge," Heather responded. "I want them to be proud of me."

  "Mi-ok's throwing you off your game. This is risky."

  "I know what I'm doing. I've earned too much goodwill over the years to be ignored. She has none of that."

  "Then go for it. You have the chops."

  Ordinarily honed into a steely calm by years of repetition, the trainees were tense that morning. This would likely be their last evaluation before the official group announcement. Twelve trainees remained. No firm word had been given on the size of the planned group. Even its name was kept a closely guarded secret. The payoff for countless hours of dedication had come nigh. The boom or bust nature of their gamble would soon become apparent. Those cut at this stage would suffer the harshest sting. They all wished to avoid that fate.

  Heather was ready. She could not have prepared more. Every waking moment over the past two weeks had been spent perfecting each note and nuance. When it was her turn, she rose from the bench along the wall and stood before the assembled group of producers. The evaluation team was larger than ever. It had to be. Their decisions would determine the future of the company. None of this bothered Heather.

  The first notes of "Cloudburst," her new song, rang out in loud, clear tones through the halls of 37-G. It sounded good to her ears. The first verse had gone off without a hitch, and her confidence soared. She was partway through the soulful chorus when her reverie was abruptly interrupted.

  "Enough. Enough!" Heather opened her eyes. Park Jee stood with his arms held in the air, looking furious. She was confused. He hadn't stopped any of the others. "What is this?" he asked.

  Heather smiled. "I wrote it. I felt it was more representative of my character."

  Her response intensified his rage. "You were assigned a specific song. That's what we want to hear."

  Heather heard her fellow trainees whispering to each other. "You've seen me perform that song many times. I wanted to show another side."

  "Your tone is inappropriate. Mind your place."

  Heather derailed. "I apologize for my insolence," she said. "I meant no disrespect."

  Manager Chi-won rose to calm the situation. "Heather, we appreciate your hard work, but we really need to hear your assigned song. You've prepared it, I assume?"

  Heather nodded, but in truth, she had largely ignored it in favor of her own composition. Shaken from the experience, her performance of the assigned song was subpar. At its conclusion, she returned to the bench. Nobody looked at her.

  Mi-ok stood to go next. Heather wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

  * * *

  "This is the day we've been waiting for!" shouted Da-som as she barged into the lunchroom four days later. "Rehearsals are canceled. Get dressed. We're going to Amethyst tonight."

  Jaws dropped, followed by an explosion of delight as the message hit home. "Is this it?" asked dancer Minjung.

  "We're meeting company investors," answered Da-som. "Final selections are coming. Show your best self. Your future depends on it."

  Grace hugged Heather, who was smiling broadly. "Has this day finally come?"

  All 12 remaining trainees were invited. The A-listers. The ones who had survived culling after culling to make it this far. Many tears had been shed in previous weeks, but 37-G had plans for only one girl group. Those who failed to make debut would be forced to start again elsewhere or abandon their idol dreams altogether.

  That afternoon, th
e dorms were in bedlam. There simply weren't enough showers and mirrors to allow for privacy, given the time available. Preparations became a group effort, as trainees coordinated bathing schedules, provided advice on dress selections, and did each other's hair and makeup.

  Heather selected a long-sleeved, straight-necked, form-fitting, red dress that extended to mid-thigh, along with sheer black hose and red pumps. She chose the material because it shimmered in the type of moody lighting anticipated at the restaurant. Grace wore a backless, gray tartan plaid dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck. Her outfit was the same length as Heather's but flared at the hem. The look was completed by black, knee-length boots.