by Jessica Jung
Jason: And obviously it wouldn’t be a self-care day without Leah.
I pause. Leah’s invited? She would never forgive me if she finds out I turned down an opportunity for her to spend a whole day with Jason. I think back to the day of the fansign and how desperate Leah was for someone to go with. All the times she’s asked me to hang out and I’ve shut the door in her face because I needed sleep or I needed to practice. And now there’s finally something I can give to her. Something that would make all my training worth it for her. Besides, if she’s there, I don’t have to worry about anything between me and Jason. I’ll just be there for her. Not for him. I repeat this over and over to myself until I start to believe it, quickly typing back “yes” and hitting send before I can change my mind.
“Hey, Miss Viral Video!” Juhyun plops down next to me, handing me a coconut with a swirly straw stuck into it. “This field trip isn’t going to last forever. Come have some fun with us, will you?”
I laugh as she pulls the phone out of my hand and tugs me up. I take a big sip of coconut water and follow her onto the beach. She’s right. This part of my life won’t be forever, and I’m going to enjoy these Jeju waves and this time with my friends while I can.
Thirteen
“Unni, hold me! It’s getting bumpy!”
“Leah, we haven’t even left the tarmac yet.…”
“Oh, right. That’s just me.” Leah stops bouncing around in the cushy beige seat next to me, her eyes continuously swiveling in her head to take in every inch of the private plane we’re in, on our way to our self-care day with Jason. He wouldn’t tell us what we’re doing today. He just had a driver pick us up at 8:00 a.m., and next thing we knew, we were on this plane, with flight attendants waiting on us hand and foot, bringing bottles of sparkling water, cozy blankets, and charcuterie boards piled high with fresh fruit and Brie.
“This is officially the coolest day of my life,” Leah says, popping a grape in her mouth after the plane takes off.
I laugh while my stomach does flips. Lucky is definitely part of what I’m feeling (not to mention unbelievably glam), but the longer we’re up in the air, the more my nerves are getting out of control. A whole day with Jason. I’ve spent the last few days trying to convince myself that it’s no big deal, that I’m really here for Leah, but who am I kidding? The butterflies in my stomach are clearly saying otherwise.
A few hours later the pilot’s voice comes on over the intercom. “Hello, folks. We’re about twenty minutes from landing.” Leah looks over at me and squeals in excitement as the pilot drones on.
“The weather is one hundred percent sunshine. Thanks for flying with us and welcome to Tokyo.”
Did he just say… Tokyo?!
* * *
As soon as we get off the flight, we see Jason waiting for us, looking effortlessly cool in sunglasses and a black tee. Leah breaks out into a run, throwing her arms around him in a hug. “Jason, this is unreal!” she cries. He laughs, hugging her back.
I approach more slowly, a cautious smile spreading across my lips. “Is this really Tokyo?”
He grins, opening the door of the car. “Find out for yourself. Get in.”
We pile into the car, and the driver pulls us smoothly out of the airport and onto the highway. Leah rolls down the window and sticks her head out. We zoom past tall buildings with bright neon signage and blocky, minimalist-style houses on quieter residential streets. I can’t believe it. We’re really in Tokyo.
I pull out my phone to text Akari and tell her where we are, but Jason swipes it from my fingers. “Hey, hey, no phones on self-care day. Today is all about relaxing.”
I feel guilty, but I let him pocket my phone. Between training and the school trip to Jeju, I still haven’t had time to catch up with her since the dress rehearsal at DB, but I vow to take a mental snapshot of everything I see and add it to the massive list of things I can tell Akari about when we finally get to have our epic catch-up session.
Jason smiles at me like an excited puppy, and I find myself smiling back. “All right, self-care master. What’s on the itinerary?”
“What else? Lunch!”
The car pulls to a stop. Jason climbs out, holding the door open for me and Leah. “Have you two ever been to Japan before?”
We both shake our heads, and he grins. “Well, then, you’re in for a treat. Welcome to Harajuku.”
I’m speechless. Everything is popping with color, from the Technicolor shop signs to the rainbow spun cotton candy people are eating as they walk down the street. And the outfits! I suddenly feel basic in my yellow sundress. Everyone here is striking in pink tulle skirts, retro knee socks, and dresses covered top to bottom in enamel pins. I admire a girl with ombre violet hair sporting a metallic varsity jacket and a purse in the shape of a Coca-Cola bottle.
It’s official. I love it here.
Jason takes Leah’s hand and pulls her into a restaurant as I follow behind them. It feels like we’ve stepped into a box of Crayola markers. A waitress with long sparkly eyelashes, wearing a bright-green wig, ushers us inside with a big smile and a grand sweep of her arm. “Welcome to the Kawaii Monster Café!” She leads us into a room with candy-colored chandeliers and pink-and-yellow striped walls. All around us there are giant plastic macarons and furry blue and purple lamps.
Leah squeezes my hand. “Unni, I think we’re in paradise.”
We scroll through the touch-screen menu and order way too much food: pasta with rainbow-colored noodles, chocolate chicken, sandwiches with multicolored dipping sauces, drinks bursting with edible glitter, and an incredible parfait topped with a slice of colorful roll cake and an upside-down ice-cream cone. I glance at Jason, laughing as the two of us order more and more food, convinced that he’s going to transform into the Mad Hatter at any moment.
“I feel like I’m eating a unicorn,” Leah says, digging her spoon into everything. “Should I feel bad?”
“Don’t worry. It was most likely made by unicorns, not from them,” Jason reassures her. I smile at him as Leah digs into her food, charmed by how good he is with her. There aren’t many guys who would be up for spending an entire day with a thirteen-year-old girl.
Next to me Leah is polishing off one sandwich and starting on a second. “Slow down,” I say, nudging her. “You’re going to get a stomachache.”
She dutifully puts down the sandwich and starts munching on some pink fries.
Through all the excitement of seeing Harajuku for the first time, I had completely forgotten about my nerves. But as I sit there with Jason’s elbow mere inches from mine, my whole body starts to tingle—like that feeling you get when the blood rushes to your foot after it’s fallen asleep. Or when you’re doing something that you know you absolutely should not be doing but you can’t bring yourself to not do it.
“So what do you think of this place?” Jason asks. When I don’t answer right away, he pretends to look upset. “Don’t tell me they have the exact same café in New York. After I tried so hard to find somewhere unique.”
I tease him to cover up my quivering voice. “Oh yeah, I used to go every weekend. I basically grew up on rainbow carbs.”
“You know what that makes you?” He leans in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Part unicorn?” I whisper back.
“Actually, I was going to say a leprechaun.”
I burst out laughing, my nerves slowly ebbing away. Maybe I’m overthinking things. DB might control almost my entire life, but even they couldn’t say that me and Jason watching my little sister gorge herself on food that looks like unicorn poop constitutes a date. Today can just be a fun, relaxing day with Jason. Jason, whose company I enjoy. Jason, who looks really cute digging into that glittery mac and cheese…
Get a grip, Rachel.
* * *
“Where are we going next?” Leah asks as Jason leads us down the busy street after lunch.
“Ever played Mario Kart before?” Jason asks.
; Leah and I exchange glances. “A couple of times,” I say. “Why? Are we going to an arcade?”
His eyes gleam with mischief. “Not exactly.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re gearing up to get into actual go-karts to drive around the city for a real-life Mario Kart tour. Jason’s even come prepared with hats: one in the shape of Yoshi’s head, a giant Toad mushroom hat, and a blond Princess Peach wig with a crown fixed to the top.
“Princess,” he says, placing the wig on Leah and bowing his head. She giggles, running off to inspect the go-karts. I grab the Yoshi head out of his hands.
“Hey!” Jason shouts, reaching for it.
“Sorry, I just can’t pull off the mushroom look,” I say.
He sighs and smiles, plopping the Toad hat on his head. “Oh, and I can?” He catches a glimpse of himself in a nearby window. “Actually… I look awesome,” he says, shifting his head from side to side while adjusting his hat.
“Not even a giant rubber Toad can damage your ego,” I tease, swatting at his head. Jason runs for his go-kart. “Let’s see if the Kim sisters can catch me now!” he shouts as he slams his foot on the pedal.
Leah and I scramble into our kart, me strapping Leah into the seat in front of me. Just as I’m about to race after Jason, Leah rubs her stomach, turning her head to look at me with a grimace on her face. “Unni, I don’t feel so good.”
“Really?” I unbuckle my seat belt and lean forward to check on her, my forehead creasing in concern. “Should we stop and—”
Before I can finish my suggestion, Leah’s cheeks puff up and—oh my god, I know that look—she unloads a wave of rainbow-colored vomit all over my dress.
Her face has turned to a pale green, and I quickly pull her out of the kart and onto the sidewalk, ignoring the barely digested remnants of mac and cheese and french fries stuck to my skin. A passing stranger shoots us a sympathetic glance, and I imagine we must look like quite the pair: a girl in a Yoshi hat with a big blond wig in her arms, squatting on the streets of Tokyo with vomit on our clothes. What a sight.
“Are you okay?” Jason pulls up, parking his go-kart next to mine. “I looked behind me and you guys were gone!” He glances from me to my dress to Leah, assessing the situation. For a second, I wonder if he’s going to bring up my own puke disaster, but he simply pulls off his hat and puts an arm around Leah, rubbing her back.
“I’m okay,” Leah wheezes. She presses her hands against her flushed face and leans in so only I can hear.
“Did I really just throw up in front of Jason?” she whispers to me through her fingers, mortified.
“Don’t worry,” I say, winking at her. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“Come on, Leah,” Jason says as his hands move to Leah’s back, cradling her as he helps her gently to her feet. For the thousandth time that day, my heart catches in my throat. Jason turns to me and smiles before looking down at Leah, his eyes filled with such caring and protectiveness I would have previously thought only capable of existing in some K-drama universe. “I had them put the newest movie from The Rock on the plane for the return flight.”
I’m going to need a self-care day to recover from my self-care day, apparently.
* * *
An hour later, we’re back on the plane, the two of us wearing cheap cotton Mickey Mouse pajamas we grabbed from a street vendor. Leah’s wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, sipping ginger tea and watching The Rock tear his way through downtown Manhattan on one of the plane’s portable Blu-ray players.
Leah takes off her headphones for a moment and turns to us. She pauses, twirling the cord in her hands, looking embarrassed. “Sorry about go-karting, Jason. And extra sorry you had to see me throw up.”
He gives her a warm smile and ruffles her hair. “Don’t even worry about it. What else are oppas for?” Leah’s face bursts into a wide smile and she snuggles down into her blanket. I pick up my Blu-ray player and start scrolling through the movie choices.
“Oh, Kiki’s Delivery Service!” I say. “I used to love all the Ghibli movies. In New York, my best friend and I had a tradition of watching them with a bowl of chocolate pretzels.” I smile, a wave of nostalgia hitting me.
Jason grins. “My friends and I loved the Ghibli movies too. We used to fight over which was the best one—Spirited Away or Howl’s Moving Castle.”
“Definitely Howl!” I say, laughing.
“For sure,” he agrees. “Calcifer is the best.”
I try to imagine a Jason before K-pop, one who filmed YouTube covers in his bedroom and watched movies with his friends on Friday nights.
“Do you wish you could go back?” I ask.
He cocks his head to the side and arches his eyebrows. “In some ways, yeah. I mean, I was born in Toronto. No matter how long I live in Korea, there’s always this part of me that feels like I don’t fully belong, you know? I’m not Korean-Korean. I’m Korean Canadian.” He pauses and looks at me, like he’s wondering if he should keep talking. I give him a small smile. “And also, you know, half-white, which is this whole other thing.” I nod in understanding and he continues, speaking faster, like these thoughts have been building in him for a long time and he needs to get them out. “I feel like I’m constantly straddling two worlds. Too white to be Asian, too Asian to be white. It’s like I’m tricking everyone on both sides, trying to convince them that I belong, when truthfully, I’m not even sure exactly where I fit.” He laughs, running his hand down the back of his head. “Sorry. Am I making any sense?”
“Total sense,” I say. “I’m not half-white, but I feel the same way being Korean American. Sometimes it’s like Korea doesn’t fully accept me as Korean because I’m from America, but on the flip side, America doesn’t fully accept me as American because of my Korean heritage. It’s weird. It’s like I exist in the in-between.”
I don’t think I’ve ever voiced these feelings out loud. At first I feel self-conscious, but Jason is looking at me and slowly nodding his head, like he understands exactly what I’m saying. Like he feels it too.
“I don’t regret it, though,” he says. “Coming to Korea and starting this whole K-pop thing.” He pauses and flashes me a small grin. “Though I do wish I could have gone to summer camp at least once.”
“For me, it’s road trips,” I say.
“Drive-in movie theaters on summer nights.”
“Pep rallies.”
“Part-time jobs at the mall with all your friends.”
“Prom.”
He laughs. “Yes! Prom! Why is that not a thing in Korea?”
“I know, right? People go all out in the States. Here, give me your phone.”
He obliges, and I scroll through the promposal hashtag on Instagram. Leah’s obsessed with these and we’ve spent more than a couple late nights watching videos of people asking each other to prom through flash mobs, balloon-filled lockers, and elaborate scavenger hunts.
“This one’s my favorite.” I show him a photo of a box of letter-shaped doughnuts that spell out “PROM?” Just looking at it makes me feel happy. “Total classic. Who expects anything other than regular doughnuts to be inside a doughnut box? It gets me every time.”
“Seriously?” Jason cracks up, his nose crinkling with laughter. “Of all the romantic, over-the-top promposals, you like the one with the doughnut box?”
“What? It’s genius in its simplicity! Plus, if they say no, you have an entire box of doughnuts to console yourself with.”
He grins, shaking his head. “My mom would have been all over this kind of stuff. She’d probably hire a wedding planner to help me plan my promposal and then show up to videotape it herself. She was super extra like that.”
My heart squeezes at his words. Everyone knows that Jason lost his mother when he was twelve. I look over at Leah, who’s sleeping in her seat next to me. She’s snoring softly, and I brush her hair off her face. Twelve. That’s practically the same age she is now. I can’t imagine Leah losing our mom at this age—much less
having that fact broadcast to the entire world. I have the sudden urge to wrap my hand around Jason’s, but I resist.
“She would be so proud to see you today. I know it,” I say.
He pauses, turning toward me with a sad smile on his face. “You know, I think my mom would have really liked you,” he says. His words surprise me, and I blink, trying to find the right way to respond.
“Why do you say that?” The moment feels fragile, tender, different from the ones we’ve had before. I search my head for something—anything—to tell me to change the subject, to not get too serious with Jason, too vulnerable. But I can’t find it. Instead, I hold my breath, not wanting to break this moment between us.
He considers this. “Remember in the practice room, when I said I’m excited to sing with you? And I asked if you wanted to know why?”
I nod, at a loss for words. My heart is moving faster than my reason can keep up, and I don’t want to say anything that I might regret tomorrow.
“I feel like I can be myself when I’m with you.” He looks at me, and before I know it, he’s wrapped my hand in his. “Whether we’re singing or just talking like this.” I can feel the warmth from his palm radiating throughout my entire body. He takes his thumb and rubs it softly over my knuckles. “I don’t have to put on a show for you.… It just feels good to be around you.”
By now my heart is speeding so far ahead of my brain I can’t even see it anymore. Something about Jason’s words have burrowed into my mind: I don’t have to put on a show for you. With a slight start, I realize how true this feels for me, too. How much I’ve been putting on a show for everyone around me—the twins, Leah, Yujin, my parents, all the DB execs. Constantly being perfect Rachel, well-behaved Rachel, talented Rachel, sister Rachel, daughter Rachel. But with Jason, today, for the first time in months I feel like I’ve just been me. Rachel Kim. And it feels good.
