by Jessica Jung
Maybe it’s what I’ve always needed.
Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, and all three of us groan.
“Nooooo,” I say, sinking deeper into the couch. “But I’m so comfy.”
“Me too,” Juhyun says. She pokes Hyeri with her toe. “You go get it; you’re the youngest.”
“You’re only older by ten minutes!” Hyeri quips back.
“Fair is fair, maknae,” Juhyun says as whoever’s at the door knocks again.
“Fine, but I’m taking these,” Hyeri says, grabbing the bag of cuttlefish chips. Hoisting it in her arms like a baby, she teeters across the room in her stiletto heels and swings the door open.
Daeho is standing on the other side, dressed to the nines in a blue velvet tux. He actually looks pretty good with his hair waxed neatly back and a bouquet of red roses in his arms. I think he even put on some BB cream. Go, Daeho.
“H-hi,” he says, clearly nervous.
“Daeho.” Hyeri’s eyes widen. “What are you doing here?” A look of realization crosses her face and she hastily steps aside, gesturing over to where Juhyun and I are sitting on the couch. “You must be here for Juhyun.”
“Juhyun?” Daeho says, a confused look flashing across his face. “Um, actually?” He takes a deep breath and thrusts the bouquet of roses into Hyeri’s arms. “I’m here for you.”
Hyeri’s so surprised she drops the bag in her arms. Cuttlefish chips go flying everywhere, skittering across the hardwood floor. “For me?”
“There’s a card inside,” Daeho says, rubbing the back of his neck.
Hyeri plucks out the card and reads out loud. “ ‘It’s taken me a million years to say, but I think about you every day. My heart already belongs to you, so will you be my girlfriend?’ ” She looks up at Daeho, her eyes wide. “Is this for real?”
He pales. “Why? Is it too cheesy? Or creepy? Too cheesy and creepy?”
From her spot on the couch, Juhyun shouts, “Too cheesy!”
“No one asked you!” Hyeri shouts back, shaking her head vigorously. “Ignore her please.”
She presses the card against her heart. “It’s perfect. It’s just, I always thought you had a crush on Juhyun.”
“Huh?” Now it’s Daeho’s turn to shake his head. “No way. You’re the one I like. It’s always been you. I just never knew how to say it. And I thought it would be important to be nice to your sister since I know how close you are.” His brow furrows. “Did I miscalculate?”
Juhyun and I are hugging on the couch, each of us watching the scene play out. I hear a sniffle, and next to me I see Juhyun’s eyes filling with tears.
“No. You didn’t miscalculate,” Hyeri says quietly. “I really, really like you too, Daeho.”
“Really?” A huge grin spreads across his face. “Because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel since we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin—”
Hyeri throws her arms around him and presses her lips against his. Juhyun and I cheer as Daeho wraps his arms around her and kisses her passionately back, cuttlefish chips crunching under their feet.
“You know, I never thought about it, but they’re actually so cute together,” Juhyun whispers to me. “I can totally see it.”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I can see it too.”
* * *
Morning light streams through the window. I open my eyes, feeling groggy and a bit hungover. I’m in my own bed, in my own room.
How’d I get here?
I think back to last night, rummaging through my memories. Right. After Juhyun and I insisted on giving Daeho a complete facial, he walked me home, even taking off his own shoes for me to walk in when I told him my heels were killing me.
The thought of Daeho and Hyeri brings a smile to my face, but it quickly slides off as I remember everything else that happened yesterday: Jason. The leaked photos. The comments.
The end of everything I’ve worked for.
I sigh and roll over in bed, my head hammering. A stack of papers sticks out of the middle drawer on my bedside table, and I pull them out. They’re the college applications that Umma gave me months ago, exactly where I last put them. I haven’t touched them since.
Flipping through the pages, I pause at a list of personal essay questions.
How would you describe yourself?
Where do you see yourself in ten years?
What are your greatest passions?
My mind is a blank. How can I answer any of these when my life with DB is over? Without K-pop, do I know who I am or what I want? Do I even have any other passions? It feels like my future has been swallowed whole by a giant question mark, when for so long, I knew exactly what I wanted it to look like.
Maybe it’s time I tried to imagine something new.
I get out of bed and take a seat at my desk, tying my hair back into a loose bun. I am slowly working through the applications when there’s a knock on my door and Umma pokes her head in.
“Hey,” she says softly. “What are you doing?”
I gesture to the applications on the table without looking up. “Preparing for college.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and the reality of what is happening finally sets in. It’s like Umma’s question punctured straight through the numbness I’ve been wearing like armor, finally allowing the pain to flood in.
And it hurts.
“It’s over,” I say as Umma makes her way into my room, sitting on my bed next to me. “The whole K-pop thing is done. Nothing has turned out the way I thought it would. I thought I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I first started, but I didn’t know anything. I was wrong. About everything.”
“You were eleven,” Umma says gently.
“I had no idea what sacrifices would go into this life,” I say, wiping my eyes. “It’s too much. I don’t have what it takes. Maybe I never did.”
I feel tears building behind my eyes, threatening to spill out. Umma sits on my bed, looking at me long and hard. As sad as she looks to see me in pain, I think that a part of her must be relieved about this. With K-pop behind me, I can focus on school and college, just like she’s always wanted me to.
I expect her to start helping me with my application questions, but instead she gets up and leaves my room. I hear her in her bedroom, rummaging through her dresser, and when she returns, she’s holding an old photo album. “Umma,” I ask, “what is this?”
“Just take a look.”
I take it from her and gingerly start to rifle through the pages—it’s picture after picture of my mom spanning over what must be fifteen years—from playing volleyball as a young girl to pictures of her standing on podiums receiving medals and trophies. Something heavy clunks in the back of the album, so I flip to it and a gold medal is taped to the back cover. It reads 1st place in Women’s Volleyball, South Korea National College Championship, 1989.
I’m speechless. “Umma, I…”
“I should have told you about my past a long time ago, Rachel. About how volleyball was more than just a high school hobby for me. Halmoni didn’t approve, of course. She wanted me to get an education, get a real job—but I didn’t listen. I wanted to go to the Olympics.” She lets out a deep sigh. “But it didn’t happen for me. I was good, but I wasn’t good enough. Unfortunately, it took me too long to realize it and I suffered—”
“Umma, you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m… not good enough either. I’m done with K-pop.”
Umma cups my face in her hands. “My daughter, you misunderstand me.” She smiles. “Why do you think we came to Korea?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I dunno. Halmoni died. I guess I never really wanted to question what changed your mind.”
“You’re right. Halmoni died and I came to Korea for the funeral. I hadn’t seen my mother in years, and although I wanted to cry for her, to be sad for her, instead I was angry. I was so angry that she hadn’t supported my dream and hadn’t pushed me to follow my passion. I didn’
t want that for you and me, so I made a choice to move our family here so you could follow yours.” There are tears in her eyes now as she looks at me. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree because I haven’t done a very good job of supporting you. It’s just such a competitive world,” she says. “And what mother wants their child to suffer? I knew you would struggle on this path, and I wanted to protect you. Like my mom tried to protect me.”
She pulls out her phone and plays a video, holding it out for me to see. It’s my performance with Jason and Mina at Seoul Olympic Stadium. A shaky fancam version that’s mostly zoomed in on me, capturing my every step and note and facial expression. I look up at Umma, who has a wistful smile on her face.
“Leah sent this to me,” she says. “I was never good enough to make it. But you are. You have what it takes, Rachel. You always did.”
She holds her hand out to me, and I grab it, inexplicably thinking of Jason’s dad as I do.
Umma and I may argue, but I could never imagine her walking away from me for any reason. No matter what, I’ve always been able to feel secure in her love and in the knowledge that all she wants is for me to be safe and happy, even if it gets lost in translation sometimes. It’s so easy to forget how lucky I am to have a mom like her.
“I’m proud of you,” she says. “And Umma is sorry. Sorry that it took me so long.”
Tears finally start to roll down my cheeks. I feel like all I’ve been doing is crying lately, but these are the good kind of tears, the kind that make you feel like you’re a little more whole than you were before.
“Thank you, Umma.” I squeeze her hand tight. “Does this mean you’re not worried for me anymore?”
“I’m terrified.” She laughs. “I don’t know if that will ever go away. It’s part of being your umma. But you deserve to take your chance, Rachel. You’ve earned it. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”
I nod and pull her in for a hug.
Before I can pull away, the door slams open. “Are you two done crying yet? I’ve been waiting and waiting to come in!” Leah shouts as she scrambles onto my bed and squishes herself in between me and Umma.
I laugh and wipe away more tears. “Yes, we’re done, I promise.” I grab Leah into a bear hug and smile at Umma over the top of her head. I feel a lightness in my heart that I haven’t felt in a long time, but it’s not quite complete yet. There’s one more person who I need to check in with. I put my hands on Leah’s shoulders and turn toward her. “Do you hate me? Do you hate this? You never asked to come here, and now here you are and…”
Leah scoffs easily and swats my hand away. “Unni. I’m fine.”
“Seriously, Leah. I know life here hasn’t been… the easiest,” I say, thinking back to Leah’s middle-school mean girls.
I can feel my eyes filling with tears again, but Leah gives me a small shove. “No more crying! You promised!”
I choke back a sob and laugh. “I’m not crying!”
“You know, Rachel, for a big sister, you sure are clueless sometimes,” Leah says with a smirk. “You think I care about what those girls at school do? You’re my sister. Your dreams are my dreams. And that’s more important that anything.” She tilts her head toward Umma and flashes her a quick, devilish grin. “Plus, DB auditions are coming up soon… and now that I’m thirteen, I think it’s about time that I start K-pop training. That way Rachel won’t have to be the only K-pop star in the family!”
My mouth drops open, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Umma’s face go a little pale. Umma’s phone rings, and she reaches for it, not taking her eyes off Leah, who seems to have gone into her usual, oblivious, K-pop gossip spiral as she scrolls through her Instagram feed. Umma pokes me in the side. “It’s Yujin. She says she’s been trying to reach you.”
I realize I haven’t checked my phone since I turned it off yesterday. As soon as I turn it on, several missed calls from Yujin and a string of urgent Kakao messages pops up on the screen.
Come to DB headquarters ASAP! I need to see you!
Twenty-Six
Yujin is waiting for me in the lobby when I arrive at DB headquarters. As soon as she sees me, she rushes over and pulls me into a tight hug.
“Rachel! I heard about everything that happened.”
“Everything?” My heart nearly jumps into my throat. Does everything include my relationship with Jason? Oh god, I hope not.
She steps back, anger flaring in her eyes. “I heard that Jason is going solo and how DB used you and Mina to promote him.” Sharp as ever, she raises her eyebrows and gives me a searching look. “Why? Is there something else I should know?”
I shake my head, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. “Nope, not at all.”
She gives me a suspicious look, but her face softens anyway. “Listen, Rachel, I honestly had no idea DB was plotting any of this. If I knew, I would have done everything I could to stop them.” Her lips press into a hard line like she’s trying to keep herself together. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more to protect you.”
My heart twists at the thought that Yujin might feel responsible for any of this. I never once thought that she might be involved, and if there’s anyone who should be apologizing, it definitely isn’t her. “Please don’t be sorry,” I say. “You’ve done nothing but support me since day one. And all things considered, I’m doing okay.”
It’s only half a lie.
“Really?” Yujin gives me another searching look. “Are you sure there isn’t something else you want to tell me?”
She knows me too well. For a second I think how nice it would be to tell her everything about me and Jason. It would feel so good to get everything off my chest.
No more secrets. No more lies. But then I imagine the disappointed look on her face and put on my best smile.
“Really. Don’t worry.”
She sighs. “No use telling me that. There’s always something to worry about.”
Across the hall, two second-year trainees come out of the cafeteria, chattering a mile a minute.
“Did you hear about Akari?”
“Yes, I can’t believe it! Of all the girls at DB, I never thought…”
I strain to hear the rest of what they’re saying, but their voices fade as they continue down the hall.
I look over at Yujin. “Did you hear that? What’s going on with Akari?”
“You mean you haven’t heard?” Yujin says, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. When I stare at her blankly, she bites her lip, an apologetic look on her face, as if she’s sorry for the news she’s about to give me. “Akari’s been traded to another K-pop label. She’s no longer with DB.”
My stomach sinks. “What?”
No. That can’t be true. If it were true, I would have known about it. Wouldn’t I?
Even as I think it, I know I’m wrong. I’ve been so absent in Akari’s life lately that how could I know about it? My mouth goes dry as I remember that she messaged me yesterday, right as everything was blowing up. I just totally blew her off.
Again.
I grab my phone and text her now, but the message comes straight back as undelivered. I call her and even try to FaceTime her, but everything bounces back, telling me that her phone’s been disconnected.
She’s gone.
“Come on,” Yujin says gently, taking my elbow and guiding me down the hallway. “It’s newbie day today. I know you may not be up for it, but it’ll be a good distraction. Let’s go.”
I follow her woodenly to the auditorium, my mind a blank. Yujin nudges me toward the stage, where all the other trainees are standing to receive bows from the newbies. Everyone, that is, except Akari. My stomach drops even lower.
She should be here. I can’t believe she’s really gone.
Onstage, Eunji gives me a scathing once-over. “Look who decided to show up.” She blows a watermelon-scented bubble with her gum, letting it pop over her lips.
“We thought you’d probably died of embarrassment by now,”
Lizzie says, narrowing her eyes at me as I move toward the head of the line.
“Come on, Princess.” Mina smiles at me with all her teeth, blocking my way. If she’s reeling from the recent article scandal, she doesn’t show it. She looks as poised as ever. “You’d think you’d know your place by now.”
Mina’s final comment makes me snap back into focus. She’s right.
I do know my place.
I step into the front of the line, right next to Mina, exactly where I belong on the trainee hierarchy.
“I believe this is my rightful spot,” I say.
The entire stage falls silent as Mina and I glare at each other, the friction between us practically ricocheting off the walls. It feels like everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see what will happen next. But as soon as the newbies come out and begin their bows, Mr. Noh following right behind them, Mina looks away.
Everybody exhales.
I straighten my back, determination coursing through my veins. I’m not going to let anybody step on me today.
Not when I’ve worked so hard to be here.
Not when I’ve earned this.
Not even the DB execs can take this away from me, I think, as a group of them stop right in front of me, broad but unforgiving smiles on their faces.
“Rachel,” Ms. Shim says.
I bow. “Ms. Shim,” I respond before turning to Mr. Noh.
“How are you?” Mr. Noh says, a slight note of hesitation in his voice. I can see my pale, tired face in the reflection of his glasses.
“Yes,” Mr. Lim chimes in, barely able to hide his disdain, “we weren’t, uh, sure we would see you here today.”
I look up at them, my jaw set. There’s an angry glint in Mr. Lim’s eyes, and Mr. Noh keeps fidgeting with his satin pocket square—and suddenly I realize they know I know everything and they’re trying to see how I’ll play my cards. Well. When it comes to playing games, I’ve learned from the best.
