Idol Star School: A Dark Bully Romance (Idol High School Book 1)

by Nara Noelle

  Since I knew I was going to meet Executive Song no matter what, I stayed behind in the dance studio after my last lesson until midnight, practicing with all my might. Then I arrived in class before anyone else the next morning. The soles of my feet were raw with blisters, and no matter how much I ate, every week, I was always several pounds lighter than I’d been at the previous weigh-in.

  Sure, sometimes, I asked myself whether I absolutely needed to push myself this far. Admittedly, I couldn’t help but wonder if there might be some kind of way for me to run off into the woods after I got eliminated and hide out there until Executive Song arrived.

  However, my efforts were not in vain. People—and I don’t just mean the Minis—were giving me credit for it. When I was in the bathroom one afternoon before heading to my next class, I overheard two of the other contestants get worked up over how a video of me practicing had been posted online. Who was behind it? They had no idea. I mean, they hadn’t even had the chance to watch it themselves, due to the draconian rule against digital devices. Anyway, it appeared that people were making unofficial posters and memes for the show using a screenshot of me wiping sweat off my forehead.

  On the day of the assessment, the other students and I were asked to come to the waiting room at the Song Center an hour before the performance was scheduled to begin. Although I’d arrived in a black hoodie and a pair of gray sweatpants, as usual, the other students were decked out from head to toe. Some of them looked like cyberpunk ninjas, while others came dressed as sailors or magicians. To no one’s surprise, Mas had decided to take the opportunity to show off his abs. He wore nothing but a yellow firefighter helmet and black pants with suspenders. In other words, he was a stripper heading to a bachelorette party.

  Sammy was waiting for us in a sleek blue suit with a wicked grin on his clean-shaven face. He hummed to himself as he ran his fingers along a stack of white tablecloths on the table next to him. Ugh. What the heck was he so smug about?

  “Today, we’re gathered here for the students’ final assessment of the semester. That’s right. We’re nearing the end. Where did the time go, huh?” He laughed, looking into the camera. “For over a month, they’ve been hard at work in order to truly perfect their performance. While I have no doubt that all fifteen of the boys will steal your heart and keep you hungry for more, unfortunately, only ten of them will be returning to Starsaw Island for the second season of Idol High School.”

  When I looked around the room, I saw earnest expressions and determined nods. This was it. After the performance, our lives weren’t going to be the same again, in one way or another.

  “What’s a nerve-racking day without a wild twist though, right? Here at Idol High, we’re determined not only to surprise our viewers but also to keep the contestants on their toes.” Sammy glanced in my direction. “And with that, I have a surprise to share with you guys.”

  Everybody froze. It was as if someone had stopped time.

  “It’s nothing to panic about, I assure you. Drumroll please,” Sammy added playfully.

  Of course, those words weren’t enough to ease the tension filling up the room. While Mas didn’t seem completely anxious, his usual self-assured smirk had been wiped off his face. At least that was the silver lining in the situation.

  “To shift the focus of the assessment on your performance and stage presence, instead of the glitz and glam, the judges have decided to put a restriction on what you can wear. As awesome as your outfits are, I’m sorry to share that you will not be allowed to stay in them for this round,” Sammy announced.

  The room broke out into gasps. After all, to obtain clothes specifically for this situation, my classmates must’ve gone through the trouble of contacting their family members and requesting specific purchases during one of the limited opportunities to call people outside the island.

  Meanwhile, I wasn’t too fussed. It appeared to be that the lack of care I’d put into preparing a stage outfit was about to pay off.

  “You students will be wearing these T-shirts and pants,” Sammy said, holding up what I had thought were plain white tablecloths.

  While the clothing items were being handed out by a gofer, I couldn’t help but wonder why everyone had been given the same size. Was this some kind of experiment to see who could pull off a bland outfit that would likely be too big or too small?

  “Here,” the gofer muttered once he passed me my T-shirt and pants.

  “Thanks,” I replied before promptly unfolding the two articles of clothing.

  The T-shirt was huge, and the pants had an elastic waistband to accommodate as many sizes as possible. I suspected that the pants were going to be too long for me, but that wasn’t some kind of extreme, unsolvable problem by any means—I could simply roll them up.

  The other students wasted no time before taking off their shirts. While there were cameras around, they didn’t seem to care one bit. Any chance to get more airtime, I suppose.

  “Woah. Slow down. Why don’t you guys go over to the men’s bathroom down the hallway and change into your new clothes there?” Sammy said, pointing at the door.

  My classmates and I promptly headed to the bathroom. They put their belongings down by the sink and undressed in front of the mirror. Although I was worried someone would call me out for changing in a locked cubicle, nobody seemed to care. Was it because they couldn’t get their upcoming performances out of their mind? Probably.

  By the time I put on my white pants and T-shirt, layered my baggy black hoodie on top, then came out of my cubicle, the other contestants had already left. When I hurried back to the waiting room, I found myself alone with Sammy.

  “Just so you know, you’re not allowed to wear anything other than the white T-shirt and pants. Otherwise, it would defeat the whole purpose of giving you a set uniform. You can’t customize your outfit or layer anything on top, okay?” he said.

  “I see.” I sighed as I took off my hoodie. Although I wasn’t used to walking around in just a T-shirt, it would be a terrible idea to tick Sammy off at this point. “By the way, where is everyone?”

  “They’re having lunch. It’s being served by the gazebo,” he explained.

  “Outside?” I asked, then put my clothes down in the corner.

  “What do you think?” He rolled his eyes. “They left the building through the back entrance.”

  “I see,” I said, opening the door. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Nah. I’m good. I’ve already eaten,” he called out after me.

  After I made my way down the stairs, I went over to the back entrance, rubbing my belly. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a pulled pork sandwich. Since my time with the makeup artist and hairstylist overlapped with breakfast hours, I hadn’t eaten anything today.

  My train of thought was interrupted the instant I opened the door. A bucket of ice-cold water had hit me. I was absolutely soaked to the bone.

  “Fuck!” I screeched, peering up at the door frame.

  I realized a second too late that a trap had been planted on the door. What’s more, Terry was standing inside, watching me.

  “You! You did this, didn’t you?” I roared, storming up to him. Though I knew he had so much power over me, in those moments, I simply didn’t give a damn. “First, you nick stuff from my pocket while pretending to help me out. And now this? Right before my assessment. Are you kidding me?”

  He didn’t respond. His eyes were round with confusion.

  I continued, huffing with anger. “So where’s the rest of your group then? I bet you guys got a real kick out of setting up a trap for me. Whose idea was it? Yours? Or are you blindly following orders from Sammy and RJ?”

  “It’s just me here,” he replied flatly.

  Suddenly, I realized what Terry was so distracted by. He was staring down at my chest—or more specifically the glimpse of my sports bra showing through my dripping-wet white T-shirt.

  “I… I have gynecomastia,” I blurted out before racing away.

&nbs
p; At first, I had no idea where I was headed. I was just running aimlessly, desperate to avoid whatever was in store for me. However, once my thoughts cleared up, I realized I needed to get back to Idol House, first and foremost. I mean, the least I could do was change out of the all-white ensemble before anyone else saw me. Was I going to return to the Song Center afterward? I hadn’t decided yet. Somebody was bound to give me shit for not wearing the right stage outfit.

  By the time I returned to the east wing, I was running out of breath. Still, I didn’t stop. Not until I made it up the stairs to the second floor and crashed into a clothing rack.

  “Woah! What’s going on?” Mandy appeared from the other side of the clothing rack. “You’re, um, Hamin, right?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, turning away from her with my arms folded over my chest.

  “You’ve got a pool of water trailing behind you. Did you know that?” she said.

  “I’m sorry!” I called out as I scurried to my front door.

  “Where are you going, anyway? Aren’t you meant to be performing at the concert hall?” she asked.

  “Um, I…” I stammered.

  “Hey! Do you need something to wear? Let me help you,” she said.

  When I looked back at her, she gave me a knowing smile.

  Thanks to Mandy, I was able to make it back to the Song Center in time for the assessment. She took me to the laundry room, where she proceeded to hand me a T-shirt and a pair of pants that looked almost identical to the white ones I’d been given by Sammy. I’m not sure why she was so nice to me, no questions asked, but I sure as hell appreciated it. She even got her makeup pouch and used her cushion pact to retouch my melted foundation.

  Unfortunately, the rest of the day did not unfold the way I’d hoped. I should’ve known from the moment the other students turned up at the waiting room looking like they were performing in a massive football stadium. Somehow, I’d missed the memo that special effects could be arranged prior to the assessment. For Mas and his friends, smoke machines went off to create a dramatic entrance, bright lights flickered to the beat of the music, and confetti explosions marked the finale. Not only were they better than me in terms of technical ability, but their performance just had to be a hundred times flashier than mine.

  Mind you, nothing went wrong during my performance. There were no unexpected malfunctions or interruptions. Since I made no mistakes, I should’ve finished my dance with pride, right? Alas, that was the one thing I lacked. After weeks of practicing to the best of my ability, I couldn’t shut up the stupid voice in my head that told me I was embarrassing myself. When I looked ahead of me, all I could see were bored, displeased expressions. It made me want to crawl into a hole.

  “Good effort, Hamin. Should we hear what your teacher and judges have to say about your performance then?” Sammy announced, flashing me a sugary sweet (read: fake as hell) smile before gesturing to the judges’ table.

  “Okay,” I replied limply.

  “Bravo,” RJ said with a single booming clap. To no one’s surprise, the look on his face suggested he thought otherwise. “I was going to tell you that you did a good job, until I remembered this is Idol High, not Idol Preschool.”

  “Exactly.” Vik snorted. “I must admit, Hamin, you’ve come a long way since the intriguing yet atrocious train wreck that we call your audition performance. Like all of the other contestants, you must’ve put in a lot of effort to get to this point. However, there are some problems that no amount of effort can solve.”

  “Amen to that,” RJ chimed in.

  Vik added, “Ultimately, it’s up to our viewers to determine whether they still get a kick out of seeing you struggle among the pros. I wouldn’t be surprised if the novelty’s worn off though. It’s too bad there weren’t any silly distractions to inject some color into your otherwise dull performance.”

  “Silly distractions?” I said, squinting at him.

  “You didn’t ask for your own special background music this time,” Vik sneered.

  God, I wanted to leap off the stage and slap the condescending smirk off Vik’s face. The entire concert hall erupted into laughter. I swear, even the gofers were clutching their bellies like they’d been watching a standup comedy show.

  Correction. There was one other person who seemed as uncomfortable as me. Arang.

  Chapter 31

  Honey

  “Behold, the power of pity votes,” Vik said in response to the final results.

  Yup. I was the laughingstock of Starsaw Island. The desperate, attention-seeking weirdo who deserved to be sent back to Duvil. Whatever. People could point their fingers at me for all I cared. At the end of the day, I’d managed to come in at second place with 8,949,102 votes. First place went to Kisu, who’d received 8,949,513 votes. This was the first time the number of votes each contestant had gotten was openly shared with everyone, and I suspected PD Oakland had only done it because some viewers were accusing him of meddling with the votes.

  Frankly, I couldn’t wrap my head around the situation. In trying to meet Executive Song, I’d earned myself almost nine million fans. I suppose the silver lining to this was that people were invested in me. They would speak up if I angered Executive Song and ended up like Domin.

  I wasn’t afraid though. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t wait for the confrontation. On the last day of filming for season one of Idol High School, I sprung out of bed and got ready at record-breaking speed. Sometime between now and the banquet at six o’clock, Executive Song would be arriving on the island. So I waited around by the lobby of Idol House. I sat down on a sofa and flipped through a stack of entertainment magazines laid out on the table.

  Meanwhile, the other students who’d made it to the top ten paid a visit to the confessional room, presumably to leave a strong impression on the viewers before the second season, which was scheduled to begin in September. Of course, I had no interest in joining in, seeing as I had no intention of returning here for the second season.

  Nope. Tonight was going to be my last night on the island. It was going to be the night everything changed for Domin, Executive Song, and me. My head was filled with thoughts on how I intended to approach Executive Song.

  Then, at lunch, I discovered that the road to getting what I wanted was a far longer path than I had anticipated. One that might not even have an end in sight.

  “Alright. Quieten down, boys. I have an important announcement to make,” PD Oakland declared as he walked into the dining hall.

  “You know what? We should ask one of the cameramen to come join us in the spa after the banquet later,” Rich said to Mas and the rest of their group.

  “Shh.” Al nudged Rich, his eyes on PD Oakland. “Dude.”

  “Thank you, Al.” PD Oakland sighed. “Where do I start? This entire situation is a bloody nightmare. Boys, there’s been a change to our schedule.”

  “Is this about the banquet?” Rich called out.

  “Yes,” PD Oakland replied, “but not just the banquet. First, let me explain what’s currently going on. As you all know, five contestants were recently eliminated from Idol High School and left the island yesterday. Well, it appears that four of them are now gravely ill with some sort of nasty virus. The symptoms seem to match that of swine flu, so while the doctors are still in the middle of trying to figure out what’s going on, we have reason to believe it might be coming from the pigs on this island.”

  “You mean the ones that go into our pulled pork sandwiches?” Mas asked.

  “Yes,” PD Oakland answered.

  “Far out,” Mas groaned.

  The other students immediately broke out into chatter.

  “Calm down, everyone! Let me explain how this is going to affect you guys.” PD Oakland waved an arm in the air. “Firstly, all of us here on the island will be quarantined for the time being. This means you will not be allowed to leave the island tomorrow. Please go to the infirmary or notify your teachers if you’re not feeling well. Also, this goes without sa
ying, but make sure to wash your hands with soap and warm water. Anyway, there’s no need to panic. Food and other essential supplies will continue to be dropped off here. For safety reasons though, Executive Song’s flight has been canceled.”

  “No,” I muttered, seething through my teeth.

  “The dinner banquet is still on. After all, there’s no reason for us to hold off on filming the program. Rest assured, pork will not be served. See you all at six,” PD Oakland said before he went back out the door.

  A few seconds after he left, the door swung open once more, and he came in again. Ugh. What next? Had he changed his mind about not canceling the banquet? Frankly, I had no interest in attending the event.

  “Oh, and as a simple preventative measure, everyone will be required to take a vaccine pill every morning. Today, you can take one after lunch,” PD Oakland explained.

  After what I’d just heard, I had no interest in food. As soon as I received my pill, I went back to my room. I was fuming. Not only had my plan to meet Executive Song been postponed indefinitely, but I was going to be surrounded by Mas and his gang for the time being.

  Once I lazed around in bed for a couple of hours, I remembered how I hadn’t returned the T-shirt and pants I’d borrowed from Mandy. I grabbed the two clothing items, then headed to the laundry room.

  I swung the door open so hard that the gold bell hanging on it nearly fell off.

  “Hello. How can I—” Mandy paused when she saw me appear from the small stairs.

  “I’m here to return these,” I said, holding up the T-shirt and pants.

  “Right. How was the performance, by the way?” she asked.

  “It sucked,” I replied, scanning the area. We were alone.

  “You managed to come second though, didn’t you?” she pointed out.