by Nara Noelle
Furthermore, while I could’ve thrown the rat into the first bush I came across, I couldn’t stand messing up the immaculately maintained garden behind the east wing; that would’ve been akin to terrorizing the place. So I climbed over the fence and headed to the nearest mountain.
Though my limbs felt like jelly, I rather enjoyed the walk back to Idol House. Mind you, I still wanted to punch whoever had put me through this situation. However, I must admit, I much preferred being in nature and basking in the silence than being surrounded by obnoxious teenage boys.
As somebody who’d grown up in an overcrowded city full of soulless skyscrapers, this was the first time I saw a starry sky. It was basically an intricate illustration straight out of a picture book. When I rolled up my sleeves, I felt the cool, light breeze against my forearms. I told myself one of the artists at Pluto ought to write their next love song about a pristine night sky like this instead of serenading to a pretty girl yet again.
I must’ve gotten distracted and deviated from my path. When I got closer to Idol House, I realized I’d arrived at the west wing, not the east wing. I groaned as I thought of how massive the building was; it was going to take me a while to return to my room. Then I saw an open window and stopped in my tracks.
“This must be my lucky night,” I muttered under my breath.
Who would’ve known this was how I’d finally infiltrate the west wing? I went through the window and landed on a mop bucket in what appeared to be the men’s bathroom—I could see the urinals through the gap beneath the door. When I stood up and looked around at the cleaning supplies, I spotted a large clear container filled with keys, a compact first aid kit, and a stack of room cards. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Were any of these room cards a master key card that worked on all the locks? Thankfully, the answer was a resounding yes. The words “master key” was written on one of the cards with a permanent marker.
After I took the master key card, I pulled my hood over my head and hurried out of the bathroom as fast as I could. When I stopped to catch my breath, leaning against the wall in the hallway, it was deathly silent. Though I hadn’t checked the time in ages, my guess was that it was probably past midnight by now. In other words, this was the perfect opportunity for me to find out where Rye’s room was.
Since I knew the lower floors were for the Idol House employees and the television crew, I went into the elevator to get to the top floor and start from there. Seconds after I got off the elevator, I heard a beep—it was the unmistakable sound of a door unlocking. I rushed over to the staircase on my tiptoes and let out a sigh of relief as the door of Room W803 creaked open. Phew. What a close call.
I slowly poked my head out to see what was going on. When I spotted Rye heading over to the elevator, my face burned with anger. He seemed to be in the midst of a phone call, holding his phone with one hand and a pack of cigarettes with the other.
“Yeah, yeah. I can’t wait to have you here either,” Rye grumbled as the elevator door slid open. “What? Do you seriously think that somebody on the island might’ve caught my eye? Don’t be ridiculous. There are no women here except for middle-aged cleaners.”
After I checked that the elevator had arrived at the first floor, I took brisk steps toward his front door. He’d presumably gone out to smoke. It would take five minutes, at most, for him to return. If I was going to take a risk and sneak into his room, I had to make it quick. A voice in my head told me to come back another day. Now that I’d gotten my hands on a master key card, it was only a matter of time before I tuned into all of his conversations.
However, I couldn’t deny how overhearing his phone call had piqued my curiosity. I fumbled with the master key card and voice recorder in my pocket, lost in thought. Evidently, he’d been talking to another one of his young aspiring actress girlfriends. I wondered whether the judges were allowed to invite their personal guests onto the island whenever they wanted.
“What on Earth are you doing here?”
I jumped in horror. As I lost balance, I pulled my hand out of my pocket and flailed my arms in the air. Then I felt somebody catch me with his arm around my shoulders. I looked up to discover that this somebody was Terry. Dammit. Why did it have to be him?
Alright. In saying that, out of the four members of STAR, he was the best person I could’ve bumped into. Not because I was so delusional that I believed I was his special favorite; when I took his dance classes, he never looked at me with an ounce of approval. What I mean is, he hadn’t pushed me around or taken me aside to threaten me, so I assumed he wasn’t out to get me like the rest of his band members.
“Well?” he asked, tousling his mint hair with his free hand.
“I-I got lost,” I stuttered.
When he cocked his eyebrows, my heart skipped a beat. Though I hated myself for getting distracted in a situation like this, his warm brown eyes were just too precious.
“After taking a stroll outside,” I added, knowing my excuse made no sense whatsoever.
“Ah. I see.” He winked, steadying me on my feet. “In that case, why don’t I help you out, Yo-yo? I can walk you back to your room.”
I nodded hesitantly. There was no way I could turn down his offer. Not when he’d just made it obvious that he was going to let my suspicious behavior slide.
Although I was worried that he’d take me to one of his band members or lash out at me, he kept his word and guided me out of the west wing. At first, I took fast, large strides in an attempt to avoid interrogation. However, he acted as if there was nothing unusual about our situation. He didn’t even mention how I’d been standing outside of Rye’s front door in the middle of the night.
“You’ve been practicing in an empty dance studio after class, haven’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah. How’d you know that?” I replied.
He laughed. “I’m your teacher. It’s my job to take notice of how my students are doing and what they’re working on.”
“Fair enough.”
A few minutes of silence ensued. As we entered the east wing, he held the door open for me with a gentle smile. My eyes lingered on his pearly white teeth and the silver hoop adorning his perfect, plush bottom lip. God, I had no idea I’d be charmed by someone’s facial piercing, of all things. It embarrassed me to admit this, especially since I’d never been kissed, but I found myself imagining what it would be like to make out with him. Did any of the girls he dated ever run their tongues along his bottom lip?
“You’re getting better,” he murmured.
“Better?” I croaked, shaking my head to clear away my thoughts.
“As in your dance ability. Honestly, you were a lot better today than you were during our first lesson,” he commented.
“Oh,” I whispered.
“I mean it, Yo-yo,” he said.
I lowered my gaze. “Um, thanks.”
“Unfortunately, the same could not be said about all of your fellow classmates. Most of the epsilon students—as well as the gamma and delta students, I suppose—seem a little burned out. I guess they were disappointed in the results they got for their first assessment. To be honest, I don’t blame them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I get it. They’ve been running toward one destination for years, their family and friends cheering them on from the sidelines, assuring them of how talented they are. So naturally, it feels like a punch in the gut—no, punch in the freaking balls—for them to be hit with the realization that they’re not as close to the finishing line as they assumed they were.” Terry chuckled. “I still remember how defeated I felt when I lost my first dance battle.”
“Was this before your debut or afterward?” I asked.
“It took place years before my debut, back when I was in the b-boying scene,” he shared.
“You were a b-boy?” I said.
As we went up the stairs, he explained, “Yup. I got into it in my last year of elementary school. It was my obsession and passion all throughout middle sc
hool. When I told my friends from my b-boy crew about how I’d auditioned at Pluto Entertainment, they treated me like I was trying to sell my soul to the devil.”
“Were they upset about not having you on their team anymore?”
“I think so. They called me a sellout for chasing fame and money. On top of that, they kindly pointed out how there were hundreds of aspiring idols who were better-looking than me. Since I happened to have met Arang for the first time at the auditions, I took their words to heart. I mean, you know how unreal Arang looks, right? He’s the definition of handsome. I told myself he was the kind of guy that was superstar material, not me. For a while, the thought ate away at my confidence. I kept second-guessing whether I really had a shot.”
“In hindsight, you must be glad you didn’t let them get to you. Did they admit how wrong they were after your debut? Did they ever apologize?”
“Nah. I haven’t talked to them in years.” He shrugged. “All it takes is one moment for a friend to turn into a foe.”
“What about the reverse? Can a foe turn into a friend just as quickly?” I questioned.
“I suppose it depends on what turned them into a foe in the first place,” he replied.
“You’ve got a good point,” I said.
When we reached the second floor, he turned to me and asked, “Is this your floor?”
“Yeah. My bedroom’s over there,” I answered, pointing at the open door. Funnily enough, it was then that I remembered why he was here with me. “Thanks for… you know, your help.”
“It was interesting talking to you. Goodnight,” he said, waving.
“Bye,” I murmured.
Although the stench hadn’t completely gone away, I was so sleepy that I was willing to ignore it. I flung the door and window shut, sprayed air freshener, and collapsed onto my bed. Since it was late, I knew I would most likely struggle to get up again in a few hours. Nevertheless, I was content. There were no more rats. I had the room to myself. Plus, I’d gotten my sneaky hands on the master key card. I reached into my left pocket and held it in my fingers, laughing to myself. However, when my hand dipped in deeper, my heart stopped.
My voice recorder was gone—it must’ve fallen out. I closed my eyes in an attempt to recall when I’d last felt it sitting around in my pocket. Terry’s face suddenly flashed through my mind. I thought of how he’d caught me when I almost tripped over. During those moments, I’d been distracted by my feelings, but now that I was on my own, I was much more clear-headed. Seconds later, a chill ran down my spine.
“Terry,” I growled, pounding my fist against my thigh.
I didn’t lose my voice recorder; the asshole had taken it from me. Christ. He’d employed a classic pickpocket move.
Chapter 17
Terry
Everybody thinks they’re the main character of their own life, and there’s nothing wrong with that. However, there’s a mistake that we often make as a consequence. We’re too quick to make assumptions about the people we meet—who’s the good guy and who’s the one to watch out for—as if nobody else could possibly be as multifaceted as us.
In Hamin’s case, there were countless antagonists on Starsaw Island for him to keep track of, so the lesser of the evils was, well, me. Poor guy. From the moment I approached him, I could tell that he was anxious about the prospect of me grilling him on why he’d been standing outside of Rye’s room at odd hours of the night. He seemed awfully grateful when he realized I wasn’t going to be stirring our conversation in that direction.
Still, I couldn’t let him get away with snooping around. My loyalty lay with Sammy, Arang, and RJ, first and foremost. Besides, I wasn’t half as nice or clueless as people often presumed I was. Truth be told, I was the son of a Machiavellian conman who’d raised me as a thief. From a young age, I’d pickpocketed his business partners when they came over to our house.
When my band members and I came together to spend our afternoon off on one of Starsaw Island’s private beaches, I had the intention of spilling every last detail on what had happened between Hamin and me. I’d even brought his hidden voice recorder with me, storing it in the small inside pocket of my beach bag. Although I’d been disappointed upon discovering there were no recordings stored on the device, the sheer fact that I had evidence of him pursuing an ulterior motive spoke volumes. Sammy, Arang, and RJ were going to go berserk over this.
“So two days ago, I dozed off in the dance studio and got back to the west wing after midnight. Does anyone want to guess who I ran into in the hallway?” I said.
“Care to give us a hint?” Arang asked while he lathered his arms with sunscreen.
“It took place just outside Rye’s room,” I replied.
“And it wasn’t Rye himself?” Arang said.
“Nope,” I muttered.
RJ smirked. “Did you bump into one of Rye’s fuck buddies? Is he still dating that wannabe model who only drinks vintage Dom Pérignon—”
“At forty-three degrees?” Arang chimed in.
“I bet she takes pride in how ridiculously high maintenance she is,” RJ remarked.
“You guys are going way off topic,” I said.
“Who’d you see then?” Arang asked.
“Hamin,” I revealed.
“What the fuck was he doing in the west wing?” RJ hissed.
Sammy tittered. “The kid was probably running away from the rats under his bed. They must’ve been stinking up the entire east wing. Sucks for his roommate and the students living next door to him, really.”
“That shit’s hilarious. Bro, you’ve got to tell Terry and Arang about it,” RJ said, cracking up.
“About what?” I asked.
“I paid one of the alpha students to trap a nest of rats and keep them hidden somewhere in Hamin’s room. Remember what the kid mentioned when he found the decapitated rat in his shoes? I figured he doesn’t hate rats because he’s scared of them—he’s got issues with how squeaky they are when they’re alive,” Sammy explained.
“Who wouldn’t be bothered by the sound of rats in their room though?” Arang pointed out as he rummaged through his bag.
“That’s true,” Sammy replied.
“How long did you tell your pawn to keep the rats there for? Overnight?” Arang asked nonchalantly, pulling out his e-reader.
“I didn’t give him any guidelines on that. So I suppose it turned out to be until Hamin found the cage himself,” Sammy said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned.
Sammy shook his head before stretching his arms out as he yawned.
“Come on, Sammy. Was that really necessary? Keeping Yo-yo up for one night would’ve made enough of a statement. Imagine what would’ve happened if he never managed to figure out where those rats were. Those rats would’ve decayed in his room,” I protested.
“Dude!” RJ shoved me in the chest. “Stop trying to be the white knight. We’re not fucking with a poor, innocent student for the hell of it. Hamin could be Grit’s right-hand man for all we know. If we go easy on him, we’re going easy on Zirco Entertainment.”
“I never claimed he was innocent. To clarify, I don’t think he’s some kind of saint, especially not after my last encounter with him. What I wanted to bring up was how leaving a nest of dead rats in his room would’ve caused major hygiene problems. Do you think Executive Song would want all of the contestants to develop health problems from the disgusting state of their dorm and get sent to a hospital in Duvil? Sounds like a surefire way to get the tabloids pissing themselves with excitement,” I said.
“God, just shut the fuck up. You can list all the bullshit reasons that come to mind, but at the end of the day, you sound like a pussy who thinks we have to go light on the bastard who’s determined to fuck us over,” RJ barked, his face merely a few inches away from mine.
My jaw tightened. I was sick of his tough-guy act. Clearly, he thought I could be pressured into going along with whatever he deemed necessary.
“
RJ! Don’t talk to Terry like that. The four of us are a goddamn team,” Sammy snapped as he pulled RJ away. Although I expected Sammy to scold me too, he simply glanced at me and added, “I see your point.”
“Christ, what’s wrong with all of you?” RJ muttered, kicking a palm tree.
Sammy sighed. “Let’s not get too worked up. This is meant to be our afternoon off, after all. RJ, why don’t we go surfing, aye?”
“Alright,” RJ replied. When he turned around, he mouthed, “Pussy.”
Though I kept a poker face, it was a struggle to contain myself; he’d never looked more punchable.
I guess Arang was the real winner here. He hadn’t uttered a word since I got into a fight with RJ. Instead, Arang kept his nose buried in his book—I mean his e-reader, to be precise.
When I picked up my beach bag to take out my sketchbook, I remembered how I’d brought Hamin’s hidden voice recorder here with me to show the boys. As of now, they had no idea what had ensued other than the fact that I’d seen him in the west wing. Frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to divulge the details. Not after RJ’s stupid attempt at silencing me. Besides, he’d probably get high and mighty on how I should’ve dealt with Hamin differently.
Chapter 18
Terry
During the days leading up to the students’ second assessment, my band members and I refrained from arguing. RJ didn’t curse me out, and I played my part in putting together the next surprise we had in store for Hamin, no questions asked.
When I’d previously walked past Hamin practicing in an empty dance studio, late into the night, I wondered if my fellow band members and Rye’s suspicions could’ve been the result of a misunderstanding. Perhaps Hamin’s determination stemmed from how truly desperate he was to become a performer. Once or twice, I even considered going in and giving him pointers.
However, these days, I couldn’t stand how he came to my classes and acted like nothing had gone down between us. While I didn’t intend to confront him about his hidden voice recorder, I had the feeling if I were to do so, he’d seamlessly feign innocence. Anytime I spotted him practicing, I reminded myself of how no contestant with honest intentions would’ve gone out of his way to bring the device to the island. I hated not knowing what Hamin was hiding, and that took away most of the guilt and sympathy I might’ve otherwise felt toward him.
